The group rode out of the forest with the prisoners closely guarded. Flindra noticed one of the prisoners staring hatefully at her. She couldn't recall ever seeing the man before. He was slightly built with a sallow complexion. Long, greasy, brown hair hung loosely about his face and shoulders. He looked like a scoundrel and she wondered if he was the type of man who had been recruited to fight under Duke Bhrag's banner. If he was, it didn't speak well for the Duke's judgment.
He continued to scowl in her direction and she could sense almost palpable waves of malice accompanying his stares. She strengthened the purple aura about herself but kept it safely at skin level to avoid detection.
The Rangers finally halted for the night, several hours shy of the next village. With practiced efficiency, the troopers began preparing the encampment for the night.
Flindra dismounted and looked uncertain what to do.
"We're camping here for the night," the lieutenant explained gruffly. "Stay by the fire and keep out from under foot."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
He turned and walked off without another word. A trooper took Deru's reins from her and motioned towards the fire with his head. "We'll take care of your gear so go sit." His tone was firm, but not unkind.
One of the men placed a stump close to the fire for her. She sat on it and watched another man unsaddle Deru and place her belongings in one of the tents that had been quickly erected.
Flindra was eventually served a bowl of salt pork and beans for supper. Some of the troopers started to talk as they ate their food, forgetting her presence. They talked of the war, how things didn't look very hopeful for a quick campaign. All of the men spoke of the Duke's soldiers with a tone of contempt. Apparently, the renegades they had captured today were typical of his men.
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