Dirt, sweat and blood covered Snowid's body as he slowly trudged back to camp. His laboured breathing added to his appearance was a telling sign of the battle he had just been through. The men behind him all had tried eyes. The war had been raging for too long. They were tired, hungry and unmotivated. They couldn't care anymore. They were fighting their own countrymen, not a foreign invader. They could only push on, seeing the back of their king after every battle. he fought with them, bled with them, and risked his life with them.
Stripping his armour as he walked, the heavy crashing of the steel armour echoed, and Snowid entered his tent. Collapsing on his makeshift bed, he let out a deep, exhausted sigh, followed by his teeth grinding in pure anger.
