Dron woke up the next morning in a pile of arms and legs.
The soldiers had all fallen asleep together; all of them had been drinking the night before. Once they saw that Dron wasn't going to fuss about the gambling, a bottle of drink was brought out. Dron didn't even ask where they had gotten it from or where they were hiding it. He simply took a swig, and then another, and another.
They all shared from the bottle. Not one of them complaining about having to drink behind Dron. It was as if they didn't even think about it.
The burning liquid felt good as it went down Dron's throat. Unfortunately, now that he was waking up, it felt less good.
His head was pounding, and his mouth felt as if a million pounds of sand had been sitting inside of it all night. He turned over and rushed to the small pond where he knew there would be fresh water. He drank freely.
