With the blissful days in the North, blissful only because the chaos had finally quieted—Soren found himself with something he hadn't had in weeks: a moment to breathe.
Even though there were still plenty of beasts roaming the snowy woods, the number of injured knights being brought into the healer's tent had noticeably decreased. Most days now brought only a few with minor wounds or fatigue, nothing compared to the constant stream of bloodied soldiers he had been tending before.
Because of that, Soren finally had time for himself.
When his shift ended, he slipped back into his own tent, exhaling deeply as the flap closed behind him these past few days. The cold air inside nipped at his cheeks, but it felt almost comforting after hours spent around the heat of lamps and bodies. He tugged off his gloves and sat on his small cot, letting his shoulders relax.
