The cold morning air stung Aric's skin as he stepped out of his tent, now fully clad in the gifted steel armor of a Byzeth general.
The soldiers were already at work, dismantling the camp with practiced efficiency. The Northrender warriors moved in a way akin to shadows in the frost-laden dawn, silent but precise, preparing for the march ahead.
Aric made his way toward his horse, a stallion as black as night, though its temperament seemed to have soured.
The cold had started to affect not only the soldiers but the animals as well. His horse snorted angrily, stamping its hooves in irritation as Aric tried to steady it. It bucked slightly, resisting his grip on the reins. He gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath as he tried to bring it under control.
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