When the helicopter door opened, northern air rushed into the cabin. The cold caught in my lungs after the damp South. I stepped onto the landing pad and pulled my jacket closed.
Watchtower lights covered the tarmac. My warriors stood in formation beside it, silent and straight-backed.
These were the people who had held the line with me at Frostfang Citadel. Some still carried scars from the siege. They knew what my command cost because they had paid beside me.
As I came down the ramp, their fists struck the silver star insignia on their chests. I returned the salute.
Kaelen waited beyond the formation with two thick-walled glasses. Each held an inch of amber liquor.
He offered me one.
Our fingers brushed when I took it. His calluses caught against mine.
"How did the cleanup feel?"
