The moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, leaving the military camp in total darkness. The fires that usually burned bright had been allowed to die down to low embers.
The soldiers, exhausted from days of marching and drilling and the ones exhausted from helping the plague, were asleep in their tents. The only sound was the wind rushing through the tall grass and the distant hoot of an owl.
Prince Liam's spy moved through the shadows. He wore the grey uniform of a common foot soldier in the Thompson Army. He had stolen it from a laundry line hours ago. It fit him well enough to pass inspection in the dark, but his eyes were too sharp, too alert for a tired soldier.
He crept toward the large supply tent in the center of the camp. This was not the weapons armory. It was the medicine storage.
He stopped outside the heavy canvas flap. He looked left. He looked right. He held his breath, listening for the footsteps of the patrol.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
