littlejuliet

We sat huddled by the fire, mostly grizzled hard men - I was the only woman in our company, but it didn't bother me. The wind howled through the make-shift camp between the ruins of Ostagar, some Mabari hounds barked nervously in their pens, the brightly colored canvas of the royal tent strained against its anchors and dark clouds warned of another wet night. Carver was resting propped up on his elbow, his third bowl of gruel empty next to him. I poked a greyish blob with my spoon and it bobbed beneath the surface of the likewise colorless liquid. "Argh, I hate lamb stew…" I muttered, but spooned the mixture into my mouth regardless. Wh