Daybreak pressed against Erith’s eyelids, warm and persistent. The faint clatter of wood and distant voices stirred the still air.

“C’mon, Erith, if we’re late again Sandin will keep us on tool maintenance for the rest of the week,” a voice rang into the tent.

He wondered, drowsily, how late he’d slept. One more minute couldn’t hurt. Letting the warmth linger on his eyelids, he refused the morning a little longer.

A soft cloth abruptly smacked Erith in the face. He slowly opened his eyes to find his vest lying across his chest. Peeking through the tent flap was Elian, his red hair glowing like embers against the morning light. His youthful face carried the morning routine’s mix of irritation and amusement as he dangled Erith's belt in hand. 

“You’ll be fixing the mesh by yourself the rest of the week. My fingers are flayed from the past few days,” Elian retorted, impatience creeping in.

Erith sat upright with a yawn and stretched, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. Just as he reached for the rest of his clothing, Elian tossed the belt at him.

“Throw another thing at me, and you’ll be lucky to even have fingers.” Erith grinned as he began fastening his belt.

Elian returned the grin with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, so you do know how to use those hands? I’ll let the kitchen know. They’ll be thrilled to have you chopping vegetables. Hurry up, it’s your turn to break down the tent.” With a final smirk, Elian slipped out through the tent flap.

The cool morning breeze greeted Erith as he stepped outside and began dismantling his camp. He glanced around at the tents dotting the dew-soaked field, most already dismantled. The scent of damp canvas filled the air and the rustling of boots crunching the tall grass carried toward the front of the encampment.

“The Warden is leading exercises today,” Elian said as he helped Erith toss the remains of the tent into the pack.

Changing course? It didn’t seem like something the Warden would bother to announce. Erith mulled this over while sitting down, fastening the straps of the heavy pack around his shoulders.

Elian shot Erith a look and extended a hand to help him to his feet. “Let’s get going before you give the Warden a reason to know who we are. I should have swapped kitchen duties with Minisk when I had the chance.”

“Minisk did us all a favor by keeping you off kitchen duties. One stew from you and the entire Pining Frost Expedition would be wiped out. Murasi couldn’t even manage that,” Erith said with a smirk as Elian helped him get to his feet.  

“I undercook one meal and suddenly I’m a menace—”

“One meal none of us will forget,” Erith interrupted, a teasing glint in his eye.

Elian sighed theatrically. “I’m still recovering from eating that disaster. You’ve got a real gift, Elian, truly,” Erith replied lightly, falling into step with the assembly beside him.

Elian let out a small laugh, but his grin faded as his voice dropped to a quieter tone. “Fine, but even that doesn’t compare to Murasi lately.” He scanned around warily, his earlier amusement slipping away. “You heard about the Morvathi Guard, didn’t you? Do you think Minisk was right about what he said the other day?”

Erith could sense the worry creeping into Elian’s thoughts, and he followed his gaze to the sifters filing into neat rows ahead of them. As they approached, Erith gestured for Elian to join him near the back, hoping to ease his friend’s unease.

“It explains the extra Kaida for the cart. We were too young to know what it was like before the drought. The old guys like Bereth say sifting was simple back then. Plenty to sift, nothing to be scared of. Maybe with less Kaida around it stirs up Murasi.”

Erith paused as they settled into their spot within the forming rows. Elian helped lower the pack to the ground, his fingers lingering absently on the straps. The flicker of worry in his eyes was faint, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Hey—you’ve seen it yourself, Elian. Trouble with Murasi is rare, and when it happens, it's someone wandering off alone. Nothing hurting us with the barrier cart nearby.” Elian shifted uneasily as Erith spoke.

Before Elian could reply, a sharp whistle bellowed across the field, silencing the chatter. 

The crowd’s gaze followed the Warden as he strode through the morning haze onto a small wooden platform, his movements unhurried but deliberate. His boots clunked on the platform as he stepped purposefully to the center. 

Sunlight grazed his face as he stood tall, framed by parting clouds. Neatly trimmed hair and a well-kept beard contrasted with a weathered vest, streaked gray with yellow markings. His expression left no room for disobedience.

As he stood on the platform, the Warden peered out into the crowd, assessing the precision of the sifters’ formation. 

“Drills and meals will be swift. Mealtime is halved today. Officers will monitor form. Do not give them cause for delay.”

“Yes Warden,” the crowd echoed in unison.

The Warden allowed no breaks between exercises. The assembly moved with disciplined precision, pushing through their routine as the officers paced the rows, eyes sharp for any mistakes. 

Exhaustion weighed down on the sifters, but the thought of receiving a double assignment on wagon upkeep for even the slightest error kept them motivated to match the Warden’s unyielding pace.

As the drills progressed, officers emerged from the front with carts filled with dull swords and sturdy wooden sticks, passing them down the ranks. The familiar clatter of metal and wood filled the air as each sifter took a sword and a thick, worn stick.

“This year, every sifting pair will carry a sword as we make our way through Deneroth and beyond,” the Warden's voice echoed across the field. “Defensive exercises will now be a permanent part of the morning routine.”

Erith grabbed the sword and stick, passing the sword to Elian with a small nod.

Gripping his sword tightly, Elian stepped into the drill with a determined expression. Erith prepared for the first strike, his stick held loosely in anticipation.

The moment Elian swung, Erith felt the blow—harder than it needed to be. His arms jolted from the force, and he barely had time to steady himself before another heavy strike followed.

As Elian swung, the blow came down with unexpected force, jolting Erith’s entire arm. He barely steadied himself before another heavy strike followed.

“Hold up,” the officer barked, stepping toward them, eyes on Elian. “You’re forcing it.”

Elian hesitated, the tension still visible in his stance. “What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“You’re swinging like it’s all about strength,” the officer said, stepping closer. He tapped Elian’s sword with his own, giving him a knowing look. “That blade won’t cut through a Murasi, but the Kaida in it just might. Save your energy—let the sword do the work.”

Elian peered down at the blade, then over at Erith, who raised a brow. “Guess I was swinging a bit hard.”

“You think?” Erith gave a wry smile, settling into position again. “Figured you were fed up with me sleeping in and thought it'd be easier to put me down right here.”

As they resumed, Elian’s movements became more controlled. Erith felt the determination in his strikes, but the reckless force had given way to a more focused, deliberate rhythm. 

The steady clang of swords echoed across the field until finally, the Warden signaled the end of exercises and paused before addressing the crowd again.

Erith’s muscles burned, the weight of the sword in his grip the only thing keeping him steady. He leaned heavily on it, forcing his breath to steady so he could catch what the Warden would say.

“The Scouts confirmed that the storms moved more west than anticipated. The storms were most active around Caldis Reach. The shortest route takes us through the Narrows. We’ll move out in an hour. Dismissed.”

“Yes Warden,” the crowd once more replied before dispersing. 

Erith and Elian shared a look and silently made their way toward the cooking tent with the Warden’s words still hanging in the crisp morning air.

✦☽✧❖⨁☼✺☼⨁❖✧☽✦