Chapter 22 : Making Camp

*Fynn*

The green and gold tent always seemed gaudy to me. I would have been just fine in one of the tan canvas tents that my soldiers stayed in, or at the very most, in one of the moss-colored tents that my commanders stayed in. Many of my men insisted that I stay in the lavish green monstrosity though, and I quit fighting it years ago.

I liked the fact that they built pens for the horses so close by though. Alastor was more loyal than a dog, and I liked being able to keep him near me. It was comforting to do most of his care myself, as I trusted my ability to know what he needed way more than I did the stable hands when we were traveling through town.

We all dismounted, taking the tack off our horses and placing it in trunks by their pen. The horses were turned loose once we had them secured behind a fence. They seemed to divide themselves into two groups—the horses that went straight to the water trough, and the ones who took the opportunity to roll in the sparse grass.

I fel