Iyana was in her tent, slipping into the comfort of her bedroll, when the raucous sounds of drunken laughter and shouting reached her ears. The men outside were clearly enjoying their post-dinner festivities.
She sighed, pulling the blankets up to her chin, hoping the noise would soon die down so she could get some rest.
Just as she began to close her eyes, a familiar voice cut through the commotion outside her tent. "Iyana!" The slurred call was unmistakable, and she groaned inwardly, recognizing it immediately.
Rising from her bed, she pushed aside the tent flap and stepped into the cool night.
There, in the moonlight was Vyan—staggering, swaying, and looking every bit like a man who had lost his battle with the bottle.
"Vyan, what are you doing here?"
