Fall arranged the items back in her belt pouch.

"Fall, Fall Talon."

She sat down near the fire with her sheathed blade across her knees. She hadn't a chance to set up a tent yet and so leaned back against her travel bag. Her eyes followed the sergeant as he followed the messenger away from their circle. The last time she'd been in this situation, as a newcomer to a company of soldiers, she'd been a nervous girl who barely knew her way around a sword and was way in over her head. This time Fall was comfortable. She knew no more now about what was to come over the next few days or weeks but now she was used to that and was content.

One look at the returning sergeants face told her that maybe her younger self had been right to fear an uncertain future. The following message, while coming much sooner than expected was unsurprising. Their direction of march only meant that the Empire would be quick in looking to avenge the treachery of the Cherwinians and that its newest force would very soon learn just what it was to be thrown into combat.

The news went from bad to worse. The vanguard was no place for green recruits and she had no idea right now if she could actually trust any of them. There wasn't exactly anything she could do about it at this point. Fall unbuckled her cuirass and laid it off to the side. She sighed and laid back against her bag. Sleeping under the sky never bothered her and it was a clear sky besides.

[hr]
In the morning she woke with the first light, never having been one for drinking. Fall laid back and gazed at the sky until the shouting started. She stood up and stretched, going through the motions in an unhurried manner. With no tent to pack she was able to take her time before the march. She chewed on a hard biscuit and drank from her waterskin while she buckled on her armour and picked up the rest of her possessions.

The march was easy at the front of the line with the road still undisturbed by the hundreds of feet behind them. She listed to the chatter around her until the sergeant approached her with his question, [i]Where did you learn to stitch wounds?
[/i]. She had the answer ready, long since decided upon after she'd rejoined the army.

"I was a caravan guard and you learn a bit of everything on the road. Who you're with and what skills they have vary so much from job to job that you really have to depend on yourself. I can cook, hunt and fix a busted wagon axle if I have to although lifting the actual wagon is a bit beyond me."

She chuckled to punctuate the last part.

[hr]
If she'd had her way maybe they would have moved during the night and hit the enemy in the dark. Perhaps she was a bit bloodthirsty and it was certain that those in command would have a better grasp of the situation but it would have been nice to have given the enemy a taste of their own medicine.

Here they were in the middle of the morning with the sun beating down on them. She crouched with the rest of the vanguard in the treeline, spying on the enemy camp. It was nice to have the sergeant, whom she still not not have a name for, fighting on foot with them. Fall stood just after he did, drawing her blade. As the charge was sounded she shouted her own wordless challenge across the field, adding to the thunder of other shouts, pounding feet and clattering armour. It was going to be a long and bloody day.

coming into the camp now she spotted the knights that were the core of the enemy defense. Some of their soldiers seemed to be as fresh as the ones that she fought alongside. A militiaman beside her went down to a sword from one of the unarmoured Cherwinians. She stuck her sword through his lower back and levered it out through his side to spill blood across the dirt.

Fall turned in time to catch a glancing blow from a spear that scraped across the armour over her stomach and plunged past beneath her raised right arm. She stepped close to shorten the distance and whipped an elbow across his face before finishing the job with an overhand swing.

Another swing of her sword lopped off the head of his spear and just over a foot of its haft which she tucked in her belt. Fall stood for a second to take a look for a knight to kill.