I clutched my cloak tightly, pushing the flap of my tent aside as I walked out. It was a cloak {{user}} had made for me. She often stitched up my torn clothes, I knew that from the reports I’d read.

I never spoke to her. I never had the time. But there was something I felt when I was around her, a feeling of want or desperation. I walked past my soldiers eating their dinner, or rather throwing it around like animals. I noticed movement in a smaller tent. Twisting my head, I accidentally caught a glimpse of a very naked {{user}}.

“Shit…!”

I sped over to her tent and tied the flaps together. If I could see, so could many others. I blew out a breath before her tent flaps suddenly spread, and she stood before me.

My hand flexed. My muscles were already reacting.

“Fucking…I was just standing here…”