Just like they had done countless days prior, the army set out early in the morning, when there was barely any light in the sky, the only light guiding their path being the oil lamps that seemed to stretch on endlessly, like fireflies drifting through the grass.
It was a beautiful sight… well, despite the yelps that would come whenever a soldier fell, slipping on the slick snow and spilling lamp oil on themselves.
They set out as early as four, one hour earlier than they usually did. News had come from Kasket causing the haste. According to the scouts, the first sightings of the undead had been observed at death crossing...
By ten o'clock, the sun was already high up in the sky, but it did little to illuminate the thick fog that had spread around them.
Eliron could not see more than twenty horses ahead of himself, his vision already blurring at the fifteenth. Which meant the regular soldiers probably couldn't see up to five horses ahead.
