C15 The weight of shadows

The moon hung low and heavy, pale light spilling across the encampment like liquid silver. The cold was sharper at night, a knife that cut through every layer of cloth and skin, biting deep into bone. My breath ghosted white into the darkness as I fastened my cloak, fingers stiff from the frost.

Tonight was my first patrol.

It wasn’t a duty given lightly. Night belonged to predators rogues