Before sunrise, the camp awoke to chaos.
Runners sprinted between tents, shouting hoarse through the foggy air, dawn almost an hour away.
"Command orders! Assemble at once! Division Seven! Form up immediately!"
Wade jerked upright, heart pounding, and nearly hit his head on the tent pole.
Around him, the others were already moving. Rowan was pulling on his boots, muttering curses under his breath. Brody strapped on his sword belt while Mercy tightened the straps of her healer's pack.
Outside, horns blared. The deep calls rolled across the sprawling encampment, waking anyone who hadn't yet moved.
Tents were thrown open. Men and women stumbled into the cold, fastening armor, adjusting pauldrons, and buckling straps.
By the time Wade stepped outside, the sky was still ink-dark, the stars beginning to fade into the first hints of gray.
The entire camp was stirring like a disturbed anthill. Torches flickered across the field, throwing shadows on the churned mud.
