52
Firian
Firian cracked his knuckles. When he squeezed his fingers together, small raised scars snaked across them. Only the slightest noises sounded behind him in the dusky pines. Anything louder and he would go back and remind his warriors what was at stake. If Brithnem knew they were coming, the Kingdom could plan for their arrival. If they planned for their arrival, more of the Tanyuin army would die. He let out a slow breath as he gazed out over the shredded clouds.
Under normal circumstances, Tanyu only made camp after dark, but the Torithians were having trouble continuing after the sun had gone down. After eight agonizing days of walking, he had finally conceded that tonight only, they could make camp early. A child could have gone faster than this new army. Firian’s pulse race
