The smoky smell of wood and foodstuffs still clung to the air as Damien's party pushed deeper into the woods. It was silent now-it had been all the while actually-save for the crunching of leaves and the faint cries of the mercenaries they'd just sabotaged.
Damien glanced back over his shoulder at Amara, who was checking on a faint cut on her forearm.
"You should clean that," he said.
"It's nothing," Amara said, tucking a piece of cloth over the wound. "I've had worse."
"That doesn't mean you should ignore it," Damien said, his tone sharp but not unkind.
Amara arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Careful, Damien. People might start thinking you care."
"Maybe I do," he said, his eyes lifting to meet hers.
For a moment, she seemed caught off guard, her expression softening. But the moment passed quickly, and she shrugged, her usual confidence returning.
"Well, don't get used to it. I'm hard to kill."
Damien allowed himself a faint smile before turning back to their path. The group pressed on, their breaths misting in the cold air.
---
There, in a rocky alcove hidden behind the foliage of trees, lay a temporary camp. Under this canopy, he and his soldiers worked in silence: erecting their tents, examining their arms.
Even at the back of his mind, Damien could feel the fatigue seeping into faces.
"Rest while you can," he told them. "We move again at first light."
The soldiers nodded; there was loyalty in those weary eyes.
Amara flopped down onto a log beside the fire, moving almost with jerky slowness. Damien sat across from her and pulled out a piece of parchment from his satchel.
"Now what?" she asked him, her eyes tired.
"We make our next move," Damien said.
He unrolled the parchment, revealing a rough map of the region. Several marks indicated other mercenary camps and supply routes.
"Reynard's got more than one camp feeding his forces," Damien said, gesturing toward the nearest location. "If we want to cripple his rebellion, then we hit them all."
Amara sighed and rubbed her temples. "You never stop, do you?"
"Not when the stakes are this high," Damien said.
She shook her head, said nothing else. Leaning forward over the map, she traced a course with her finger through the trees. "If we come in from the east, we might be able to get them off guard. But it's a much farther route-riskier too."
"Sometimes the longer route is the safer one," Damien said.
"Maybe," Amara replied, her tone thoughtful. "Or maybe it just gives them more time to prepare."
Damien studied her, noting the faint shadows under her eyes. She had been pushing herself as hard as he had, and though she hid it well, the strain was starting to show.
"Get some rest," he said finally. "I'll keep watch."
Amara raised an eyebrow. "You're giving orders now?"
"Yes," Damien said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
For the very first time, she didn't hiss back at him. She got up, stretched herself, a snide curve twisting her mouth.
"Don't get stabbed when I'm asleep," she said, ducking into her tent.
Hours passed in the company of Damien by the fire as his sword rests across his leg. So many burdens weighed on his shoulders but he laid the thoughts aside and concentrated instead on the dancing flames.
Nobody said a word in camp; everyone slept as well as they could. Winterhold visited Damien's mind - the men and women who had fought and bled for the kingdom, and those who haven't.
He balled his fists, heating up his will to the work of memory of their sacrifice.
This uprising must be brought to its end, and Reynard has to fall down.
It was cold and grey outside as daybreak came; the sky was heavy with clouds looking as though they might rain down at any time. The group went into camp, moving fast for all that must have been exhausting for them.
Leading this time, Amara moved her sharp eyes over the landscape ahead, watching for even the smallest hint of danger. Behind, Damien's senses were set on high alert.
It was a treacherous path-they'd chosen the narrow, winding one, with steep drops on either side. But it gave them some excellent cover, too-and made it harder for Reynard's patrols to track them.
"How much farther to the next camp?" one of the soldiers asked, low-voiced.
"Another hour, maybe two," Amara answered, not turning to look back at them.
Damien nodded, his gaze scanning the forest ahead. Each step brought them closer to their mark-and deeper into enemy territory.
---
Moving closer to the second camp of mercenaries, they could make out just-silently audible whispers between the mercenaries. Damien halted the group, hand raised, while keeping his face silent for a silent command.
Amara lowered onto her heels beside him, features tense.
"It is a much larger camp this time, than the other one," she whispers.
Damien nodded, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the clearing ahead. The camp was set up near a small stream. Several tents and supply wagons were scattered about, and dozens of mercenaries moved about, their weapons shining in the pale light.
"They're well-organized," Damien said. "This won't be easy."
"Nothing ever is," Amara said, a faint smirk on her lips.
Same plan as before," he said, his voice low and steady. "We break up into pairs, hit their supplies and get out of there before they can reorganize. No unnecessary risks."
The soldiers nodded at him grimly.
"Amara," Damien said, looking at her, "stay close."
She made an eyebrow. "You worried about me?"
"Always," he said, his tone very serious.
For once, she had no snappy comeback.
---
The attack was carried out with precision.
Damien and Amara moved swiftly through the night, their movements now in synch as they made their way toward the supply wagons. The soldiers spread out and zeroed in on localized areas of the camp to create maximum commotion.
Amara tossed oil down upon the boxes as Damien kept watch, his sword at the ready.
"Hurry," he whispered softly to her.
"Almost finished," she replied back.
The first blast was tremendous, sending flames and debris flying through the air. He watched as the mercenaries looked at each other, shouting as they stampeded to catch up.
"Roll!" he bellowed, tossing a torch onto the crates that were drenched in oil.
The fire roared to life immediately and engulfed the stock in seconds.
Amara rushed past him, the flash of her daggers taking out a merc who'd strayed too close.
"Well timed," she said, smiling.
"Let's go," Damien said, his voice urgent.
The team regrouped on the edge of the clearing, mission accomplished. The camp was in chaos, flames spreading quickly.
"Two camps down," Amara gasped. "How many more to go?"
"Enough to make Reynard wish he'd never started this rebellion," Damien said.
As they fell back into the forest, the small spark inside Damien flared.
For the first time in weeks, it seemed to them that they were actually gaining over things.