The march had taken the better part of the week. Beorn had stopped counting after the first few days, once every dry stretch of scrub started looking like the last. The routine had settled into something predictable, which made it easier to notice the few things that still mattered.
Some of the newer recruits had already worn through two pairs of boots. The column had learned which streams still were clear and which had dried into cracked beds since the previous patrol. During the first week, a pack of Hollow Hounds had tested the rear guard twice before deciding the army wasn't worth the effort. Beorn didn't need to witness the attacks himself to understand how they had unfolded.
Then the ground changed.
