She sat in the cold rain in a filthy trench with the clones of the 501st under her command, they were engaged in trench warfare for months now... Covered in mud, wet and cold... even the robes she had were quite torn up, wet and dirty from all the fighting that has happened.

She sat there with the hood of her cloak over her head to shield herself from the downpour of rain, loathing ever bit of this place. How and why she was sent here as above her understanding, the constant battle and wounded all around her was enough to keep her mentally strained and fixated on solving problem after problem regarding the lines.

There were rations getting soggy, weapons malfunctioning, isolated cases of men suffering from trench foot even with all the armour and protection against the elements, the fifth was absolutely terrible with water building up across the trench. Forcing everyone that wants rest to sit in an elevated position that didn't provide any sort of comfort for sleep.

Soggy rations, malfunctioning weapons, and the specter of trench foot haunted the clone troopers around her, despite their armor and supposed protection. The fifth trench was particularly treacherous, water pooling across the ground and forcing anyone seeking rest to perch uncomfortably on what few raised platforms, offering little solace for sleep. Yet, despite the misery, she couldn't allow herself to show weakness, not in front of her men.

It was her duty to be strong, to keep their morale from plummeting into despair, even as she bore the weight of her own stress, pressure, and the still-fresh scars of her time on Ryloth. She was young, too young to carry such burdens, but she held herself with a strength that belied her years.

A sudden squeak broke through her thoughts as a rodent scurried across the trench, leaping up onto her head. Startled, Ahsoka's hands shot up instinctively, swatting at the creature.

"Urgh! Get off me!" The Togruta managed to slap away the rodent as it made a sharp squeal before fleeing deeper into the trench.