The men had to huddle around the fire to keep the chill of the winter night at bay. They heated their numb fingers by holding their palms above the fire. They could delay their patrol duties until the warmth reached their bones. Even if they tried, their feet wouldn't move.
"I have heard the Draconians are demons, and anybody who gets in their way is tortured and slaughtered in the most horrible manner," one of them whispered, his lips quivering and the words trembling with them.
Hirod's serenity remained steadfast. He was the patrol commander and was on his way to becoming a knight for Lord Davenlow. It was his responsibility to put these rumors to rest. "They are just men, and I trust our liege when he says so. Don't give in to superstitions."
