Dame Beverly Fitzwilliam, Knight of the Hound, opened her eyes to see the small hut she had slept in, and briefly wondered where her hut-mate, Hayley Chambers, was. The furs on the other sleeping mat lay undisturbed, and it was then she remembered that the ranger had been sent south, on a scouting mission to Kingsford.
The knight let out a deep breath, watching it frost in the cold morning air. All she wanted was to sink farther into the furs that made up her bed, but duty called. She reached out to the pile of clothes beside her and pulled her gambeson under the furs, the better to warm it up before putting it on. The sounds of the camp crept through the thin walls; the snorting of horses and the hammering of iron echoing as the smiths went about their work.
She finally braved the frigi
