Oliver threw the last of the hot tea down his throat, wincing at the lightness of the burn that it inflicted. Already, he could feel himself waking up the smallest amount, as the tea worked away at some of his sleepiness.
There wasn't much that the men could do in terms of organizing themselves, not when the trees were so compact. It was more a procession of a crowd, than the marching of organized soldiers. They simply gathered behind the wagons and tightened up the harnesses of their horses, urging the wagons back out of the woodland in whichever way that they could.
When they left, they were greeted by a light of day even brighter than it had been under the canopy of trees. Now they could actually see the place that they'd made camp – those different sections of moderately sized woodland that General Karstly had so expertly managed to locate.
