A sprawling camp was standing on a field near a road. Soldiers of the royal army trampled over cut wheat as they walked toward it. Some were alone, some in small groups. Many were wounded and had eyes haunted by recently seen horrors.
A lone soldier approached the camp's entrance. He looked just like many others—dirty all over, with bloodied clothing, pale and smelling of death.
"Another one. Hm, you look familiar… Weren't we on latrine duty together around—"
"Two weeks ago. Lank. And you are Trevor," the lone soldier said, smiling.
"Yes! Good to see familiar people making it," Trevor replied, smiling too. "Anyway, report to your captain that you are alive. Or to his replacement. Or… Go to healers first, if you need to."
"Thanks, I'm fine. Good to see you whole, too."
Lank continued on.
