[Magit Island]
In the sentry post at the southern end of the Coastal Defense Position, the sentry is slacking off.
For this young man who has never left the Mountain Front Territory before, the black nights of the Kingdom of Galloping Horses are terrifying, and only the cramped trenches give him a sense of security.
The narrow space, the slightly warm felt blanket, and the bone-deep fatigue soon have him yawning endlessly.
Just as the sentry is half asleep, a low collision sound suddenly comes from the direction of the Water Barricade.
The sentry instantly becomes alert, quickly pulling the whistle from inside his clothes, puffing out his cheeks, about to blow.
But just before warning, he becomes more cautious, holding his breath, and quietly peeks out from the trench for a look.
The river is pitch black, silent and still.
The sentry finally exhales deeply, realizing he is drenched in a cold sweat.
"Waterfowl?" the sentry speculates.
