It didn't take long for me to lower my guard around Captain Bethiv and his soldiers. They were the Last Light Company, famous throughout the northern continent as a ruthless band of mercenaries who rarely failed a mission. At some point, they were permanently contracted by the crown as a special unit in their standing army.
The soldiers sat around their cookfires, sharpening weapons, swapping stories, or talking of home. I sat around their main fire, my knees tucked against my chest, eyes closed to partial slits. The night breeze was cool against my skin, playing with my hair and wafting with the raucous sounds of their camaraderie. Fall was growing late, with winter just around the corner, something far more apparent on the northern continent than the southern. I sighed wistfully, absently stroking my horn. It had nearly been a year since I awoke in a cage, although that time felt infinitely longer than the eighteen years I spent on Earth.
