On the following morning, what was supposed to be the warm end of March turned from sunny to overcast, with temperatures dropping sharply overnight.
The wet, cold morning wind made the tents rustle noisily. Jeska, chewing on fried egg sausage, heard the footsteps of Little Hart, whose head was wrapped in bandages.
"Master Jeska, the Leia scouts have entered the sentry alert range."
With a calm demeanor, Jeska speared a piece of sausage and stuffed it into his mouth, asking while eating, "Estimate how many?"
Little Hart recalled, "Lord Bernardo is still compiling intelligence, but the preliminary estimate is a scale of ten thousand."
"Call back all the Wild Wolf Soldiers," Jeska took a swig of cold beer, "cavalry should not engage rashly, just skirmish around the battlefield periphery."
"Yes."
"They'll probably be here in two hours. I'm taking a nap. Wake me in three quarters of an hour."
"Understood."
