I know that I should probably get some sleep when I begin worrying about whether or not the assassins will burn down the several hundred-acre cornfield I've disappeared into. Every rustle, buzz, and flap of a wing has made me jumpy, winding up my nerves without any release. My jaw is tensed, causing the muscle to ache as the first tinges of a headache begin to make itself aware to me.
It would not be logical for them to burn down the field so close to the army base camp, I eventually realize, as the possible evidence of arson could lead to serious blowback on the empress. She wants to kill me discreetly, but hiding in here and constantly moving as the sun goes down, I'm a near impossible figure to discover. This maze of a field has become my blessing.
