The soldiers had not cried. They’d bled their tears out long ago. He counted down seven rooms, walked to his bunk inside. Strange, how he could remember each place he’d ever slept for any length of time. Was that normal? Close his eyes, and he could easily imagine the floor of his home, beside his family. The barracks at Talmut’s monastery. Then here. A bunk that was a little too small, even for him. He knelt beside it and ran his fingers over the wood of the frame. He removed the loose block by the wall, reached in, and came out with a handful of scratchy wool. Sewn together into the shape of
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