After a very long, chaotic, and exhausting day, the bright sun finally began to set over the Benson military camp. The sky turned into deep shades of dark orange and bruised purple.
The camp was not filled with the usual sounds of men chatting and eating their evening meals. Instead, it was quiet, save for the soft groans of the sick soldiers resting inside the large medical tents. The air smelled strongly of bitter medicinal herbs, boiling vinegar, and burning wood charcoal.
Damon stood near the entrance of the largest medical tent. He was holding a large bucket filled with fresh, clean water.
He was covered in brown dust. His military uniform was stained with dirt and sweat. He had spent the entire afternoon and evening carrying water, moving heavy supply boxes, and helping the head apothecary tend to his sick men. He refused to sit in his command tent while his soldiers suffered.
