I
Ishar Morrad
Ishar stopped on the edge of the field, his lips thinning as she saw the river below. A sigh escaped him, though as his gaze wandered up the small mountain beyond he spotted the glowing fires from a dozen windows.
His head tilted back inn relief. "Won't be another night in the cold at least."
He thought he would have grown used to it by now, he thought a lifetime spent in the Blightlands might have worn the need of a bed away. He was wrong. There was still a part of him that craved the comfort of a mattress, the softness of a real blanket instead of a piece of canvas.
Did that make him weak?
Maybe.
At this point he didn't really care. It had been three months on the outside now, three months away from civilization as he made this way through the edge of the wilds. A part of him didn't want to do it, not this close...but a few nights wouldn't hurt. He glanced up at the sky.
Just a night or two.