Victory was announced. That's what the message stated. Not just any win - this one crushed the opposition. Their front shattered under pressure. Movement stopped cold. Lands in the east now held firm.
Next day at dawn, notices went up across the camp, fresh ink smudging slightly, words sharpened like blades before sunrise. He scanned it once, boots sinking in mire near the east hut, then again - something felt off. A third pass came slow, eyes narrowing, as if meaning hid just behind the letters.
Nothing stayed lost on him.
We won.
There he stood, glancing across the camp. Not moving, just watching - men near their tents, quiet in a way that meant they weren't really there, more like pieces left behind while thoughts wandered far off into the valley. Some missing from view entirely: inside medical tents, beyond them, or buried now under dirt and silence. Then Bren came into sight, fixed on his own hands, face tight with confusion, as if those fingers held something unfamiliar, something he hadn't expected to find. Orren sat awake, face tired, eyes heavy. Where Sorin should have been, there stood only air.
Alive they did not feel, none ready for celebration.
Out east, silence held firm. Maybe things stirred elsewhere - near the west side, where supplies ran thicker, a few sounds rose after dark, perhaps laughter or clinking metal. Distance blurred what came from over there, yet nobody made effort to close the gap. Curiosity didn't catch fire.
Out came rations - even skimpier than the ones handed out before fighting started, something Ysse saw coming. Spoken to by a lieutenant nobody recognized, words wrapped tight like paperwork, each phrase stripped clean of feeling. Names went up beside the win announcement, names meant for the backup move eastward.
There sat Kael's name, clear as anything. It showed up right there, just like that.
Bren came along too, then Ysse showed up, while Orren arrived later.
For some time, he remained facing the list. Beside it, the announcement of triumph danced lightly in the breeze - fresh, crisp - marking a win paid for in full by others' sacrifice, though penned by hands untouched by loss.
We won.
Back facing the thing now, he moved off toward where the rest were. He found them after a short walk through the trees.