In a full camp setting you didn't need anyone assigned to wake you. As the moon began to set, the regular daily duties woke up the campaigners. Anxious to make a good impression on the new Forward General, Squire Tomas rose extra early to deliver fresh bath water and hot breakfast to her tent. With several helpers in tow, they hurried on soft feet through the crowds of troops just beginning the day with yawns. With a perfect plan in place, he came to a full stop when the way to the tent was barred by the grizzled dwarf hunter.

"Aye, what do ye want child?"

"Er, s'cuse us sir, we've brought food and water for the general." He nodded to the boys behind him with buckets.

Harrumphing at the child, neither he nor the cat moved, "Ye can leave it out here, we'll let her sleep a bit longer."

"Um, but sir?" He'd heard there were issues last night, but the old-as-dirt dwarf couldn't expect to excuse a squire TWO days in a row. Could he? Surely not.

"Ski-daddle ye'self bairn." The cat opened one eye with a most unhappy scowl.

"No need Damien, I'm awake." Sarenda stuck her head out the flap.

"Oach, are ye now lass, why din't ye say so?" The dwarf stretched his body as long as it would stretch and stood, his cat following, scowl still twitching along her furry face. "Okay then boys, I guess you can drop in. Did you bring enough breakfast for three?"

Tomas eyed his platter. Not even close. "I can have some more brought in a moment sir." Sare waved the entire troop in. He plowed forward buoyed by this almost normalcy, until he caught sight of the blue back and dark blue hair of the night elf. Feinin turned as he pulled his tunic over his head into place.

"Ah breakfast," he took the platter from the speechless squire, "Not quite enough for all of us though."

Not quite breaking into a sweat, Tomas tried to pretend as if finding his new general in bed with a night elf an everyday occurrence. Besides he must present the most upstanding example for the other younger boys. "Sir, I am on my way for more, I was unaware that you and Hunter Spitehawk would be joining General Highweather." Ushering the others around, and stashing the bed of coals under the bath, Tomas took off at a run as soon as his face found fresh air.

Chien and Damien came in to fill the gap left by the gaggle of boys, "Oh dear, I'm afraid poor Tomas is going to have a hard one explaining this." He chuckled heartily, his stomach responding to the smell of the stew. "He'll be thinking the two of you are sharing a shack."

Valuing his life, Feinin chose to keep all comments to himself; even under the narrowed-eyed glare of Sarenda. A soft cherry blossom blush crept up her neck in spite of her best efforts to resist it. Smacking her on the back, "Don't think nothing of it Sare, he won't know how to explain that me and Chien was sleeping out front, that'll kill any story. Keep him quiet simply out of confusion."

"Right. I know these squires Damien; you and I both know the rumors that are flying right…about… now." Sarenda smiled knowing that by the time they reached Tungsten she will have slept with both men and the cat. Let him wonder. Dipping a cup in to share the stew Tomas did leave, she passed it to the hunter who grunted appreciatively.

"So Sare, do ye remember last night at all?"

Stopping mid-drink, the mutton just touching her lips, "Up until Feinin showed up? Yes. After that, nothing." Except waking up next to Feinin. Twice.

"Have ye told her anything elf?"

Feinin shook his head, "No, I wanted to wait until at least one other was present to help explain."

"Ah, so you din't want her to think you were off yer rocker?"

"And potentially so she didn't think I was crazy, yes."

"Well missy, we've got a lot more to do today than bury our dead." Damien's stomach continued to growl as he told the story, Feinin piping in to clarify in small bits.

"Then my dream—"

"Aye, it was real."

"Do you remember it little one?" Feinin leaned back casually his leathers stretching a bit too tight for Sera's liking.

"Flashes. I thought them residual from the fight. Certainly we all live with different nightmares." That sobering thought quieted them until Tomas came scurrying in with more food; enough, in fact, for the entire council. But as the rumble in the hunter's stomach had grown, and Sare's had joined it, it seemed exactly enough. She dug into the second bowl of stew, tearing off a large chunk of bread. "And you believe that my dagger dug out whatever poison I'd been infected with?"

Tomas tied open the flaps of the tent, letting in the bright early morning sun. Their view spanned the hilltop over the entire brigade, the tips of the pyre just visible against the brightening sky. They finished their meal in silence, each pondering the events. Sare for the first time, the other two for the hundreth.

She pulled her dagger out. Nothing about it seemed remarkable really, although she valued it, she couldn't remember receiving it. The inscriptions appeared normal, the weight, the materials: all normal. And no deathly glow. "What did I do yesterday in council then?"

Feinin shifted not quite meeting her eyes, "I am not entirely certain. I believe you melded your warrior talents with an unknown magic."

"By the Light," she muttered, then to Damien. "And you say it wouldn't leave me when Moonraven tried to take it out?" The dwarf nodded.

The sounds of the camp rising became louder, breaking their silence. Sare thought it all through: the knife, the putrid infection, the stripe of skin. She thought of Nystar in her dream. She remembered Moonraven's comment about the wounded, a few are struggling to live, while many are struggling to die

And then she knew.

Bolting to her feet. "TOMAS! My gear, now!" Pointing at hunter and warrior, "Both of you, to your camps, full gear – prepare for battle! Spread the word, alert the healers, their wounded men might be alive but it's false, they may rise against us." Both men jumped to their feet, startled by the sudden direction, but moving nonetheless. "We fight undead today, and if I'm not mistaken the battle has begun! Now go!"

Like a wisp they were gone, Tomas, young but still battle trained, came to her helping her strap on her armor before they were even alone. Holy Light! She was sore today. As he strapped on her gauntlets the burns on her shield arm screamed, the wrist becoming bloody. "No Tomas, an extra leather first. I'll go without shield, bring me Deathmark." His eyes widened, but his curt nod and turn told her he heard. She finished her own leather wrap, pulling taut the straps on her gauntlets. Sparing a small grin as the poor child struggled with the two handed axe, she reached over his shoulder, hefting it in a single hand. The weight fueled her warrior's anticipation, the grin turned to a fleeting, maddened smile.

"Tomas, listen to me, this is your most important task of your life," he nodded again. She watched resolve steal itself regardless of the fear in his eyes. "You must alert the others. Be specific in orders to each: Tungsten mount up full heavy cavalry, head to the pits, they will raise warriors there. Smithhammer, full resources to the side pit. Shaelyn – to the hill beside the pyre, she must deploy immediately. Oralin, send him to middle ground; tell him to adjust as he sees necessary." A scream from the basin below underscored the urgency. "Now run child, I shall find the Kirin Tor and attend the healers. Do not stop for anyone, any man or any request, do you hear me?" He nodded and turned running for his life, and hers.

She let out a shrill whistle as she slid her gloves and helmet into place. Her charger appeared at the entrance, breath snorting in the cool air. Adjusting her gun, and hefting Deathmark to her shoulder, she glanced down at the dagger shining on the table and without a moment's hesitation she slid it home in its sheath.

Time to fight.