Sarda, Year of Severus, 15, I.R., the 26th day of Fall, Hillsprung Encampment
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The day was gloomy as the sun shied away into the clouds while the fog wrapped the camp with its thick white cloak of cold air. The beastman woke up in the cold breeze of the morning's gloom. He rose up from bed and stretched his sleeping muscle.
It was already a week since they arrived at the tree-densed encampment. There were still no signs of the faerfolk waking up and the beastman had prayed to his Moon Goddess for their recovery more than he could count his fingers. Still, they laid on their beds recovering yet peacefully asleep.