The Long Weary March

It was dark. The rain had just stopped about half an hour past and the only sound was the tread of thousands of boots splashing through puddles and struggling through mud. The Marovian army had been on the move the whole night before, all of the day and now this was their second night on the move. They had only stopped three times. Once for breakfast, once for lunch and again for dinner. Nat wondered if they were ever going to get a real rest. They had covered, according to one veteran most of the distance between Chiriath Mul and Surdilea. By the next day they may run into the enemy. He stumbled exhausted over a stone, and tumbled head-long into the mud. "Great!" Dyle grumbled sourly, "That is your only uniform! How is anybody going to recognize you now? Sergeant's gonna have a fit when he sees you!"
"Aw, just calm down," Nat grumbled back, irritated. Did you see Doley? He had mud caked all over him! He looked like he had just taken a bath in it!"
"Who said you just didn't take your bath in the mud?" Dyl stated pointedly.
Nat mumbled irritatedly to himself about picky people who thought a little mud was unacceptable.

Suddenly he almost ran headlong into the back of Jacen, just ahead of him. Blinking tiredly and swaying to and fro they listened as the lieutenant of the 101st marched by, "You boys can rest up now fer de battle. You had better conserve your energy. If you would like you can go rustle up some grub. We should be here for awhile. Until the scouts that have been dispatched return." The lieutenant, Jeb Stuntson, was tall, thin, and wore a broadsword at his side. Like the rest of us in the 101st, he also was from Laodin. He wore a silver sword pin on his chest which meant he had was an accomplished swordsman. The shape of the pin meant he had accomplished himself with a broadsword. He also had the pin signifying his rank of lieutenant. A bronze pair of crossed swords, above the Marovian Boar. He had the marking on his coat, helmet, shoulder plates, chest, and back. Lieutenant Stuntson was also the only man in the 101st who had a horse and chain mail. The rest of the 101st hadn't been provided with armor yet.

Nat collapsed on the ground right where he stood only to find it all muddy. Biting back an exclamation, he jumped up and stumped, well actually staggered after Dyl. Dyl seemed to be amused with him and Nat didn't want to even hear what he was thinking. They made a rude camp, spreading their blankets and made a pitiful attempt at lighting a fire. Eventually they gave up. Soon men were sleeping and snores resounded from every direction.
"Finally some time to rest!" Nat grouched.
Dyl glanced at him, "You always did hate getting dirty, don't you?"
"Who me? I do not! I am always right there with you whenever anything dirty has to be done."
Dyl chuckled wryly as his eyes drifted shut, "I remember the time you fell in the pig sty with your good white shirt on. You were really upset then."
"Hey that," Nat paused to finish a huge yawn, "was a good shirt. My mom took a paddle to my bottom for that! I had reason to be upset." Then Nat drifted into the world of dreams. He was dreaming about his mom. She was working with her spinning wheel, only she was spinning armor and weapons with it. That was strange...then he dreamed about Sabella, the prettiest girl in Hubleton.

Suddenly a trumpet blast shattered Nat's dreams of his mother and village. His eyes flew open. Sergeant Bullion came screaming at the top of his lungs, "Form up you wooden-headed, lazy ladies! We are under attack!"