Galen rolled his neck as he walked toward his tent. The tension in his shoulders seemed to spread, and he assumed it was the cause of his headache.
By the time he had finished talking to Caleb, teams had already been assigned. By nightfall, they had each gone their separate ways with their own missions.
He had taken forty men, dividing them into smaller teams, and he was left with only seven in his charge.
Some were fresh recruits who barely returned from their time with the humans and had yet to choose their specialty weapon. But there was no choice. He needed them all and was unwilling to leave Fiona with only the greenest soldiers.
He had left her with at least three of the most seasoned troops. It was an argument, but he was unwilling to let her win.
Galen entered his tent, sealing it behind him. He let out a tired sigh as he didn’t bother to remove his boots or jacket before laying down on his cot.
