The sun kissed the horizon, casting an orange glow across the sky. Darkness bit against the light, stars beginning to speckle the sky. Soon there was no sun left, the only remaining light being from the full moon and the crackling fire in the center of the mercenaries’ camp.

Their horses were pitched at the tree line, chewing on apples their owners had given them. The camp was nestled in the trees, two tents pitched on either side of the fire pit.

All of the mercenaries were still awake, sitting around the warmth while they talked and ate their rations.