Talmot awoke to dawn breaking over the horizon, rays of sunlight sparkled on a vast sea. He reached out with his hands and felt cool sand beneath him as light sprays of saltwater fell upon his bearded face. The general stared skyward for a long moment, a cloudless gray sky loomed over him. Tenuously he reached back and gingerly felt the lump that had formed behind his ear. A smooth, but rather large rock lay under his head. Sand had accumulated in his boots and snuck down the back of his shirt, leaving the general's mood as sour as the bitter taste of salt in his mouth.
"Goddammit," the general uttered uselessly, sitting up and viewing the landscape before him. His feet were pointed toward the body of water, turning back he could see a small fishing village lined the shore. Talmot surmised he must have been knocked unconscious when the traitor, Gareth, had kicked him through the magical hole in the air Lorna had referred to as a stitch.
