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looking like someone kicked his puppy.”
    “I know, I know, but how do I cheer him up? He looks at me and nods whenever I speak to him, and then goes on being the old mope. And I can’t exercise him, because there isn’t enough food for that.”
    “Maybe get us sent on one of the foraging parties? We should be one of the squads next in line anyhow, and it might provide enough of a change to break that ugly clay he’s baked over himself.”
    “That’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had Loc. Not that that’s saying much. Right, I’ll go talk to an officer or two, see what they can do for us.”
    Two days later, their turn came, and Rhyfelwyr put Llofruddiwr on point. The man was a ghost, and could find danger before it found them. The other five followed at a distance, with Locsyn having the unenviable job of being the rearguard. The squad’s patrol area was to the western side of the army, between this branch and the next, and so with the rising of the sun, Llofruddiwr turned his back on the glowing orb and headed off.
    The march took them across a ruined landscape. The first few plantations had been picked clean, and so the patrol had a ten mile march to reach their assigned area. The hike saw them pass the shells of farmhouses, the remains of barns, the carcasses of work animals left to rot and die, and fields that had been turned into ruined husks.
    “This devastation is unprecedented. I have never, in all my years, heard of a war conducted in such a self-destructive manner. Why, even if they win, the Lianese will be set back a generation, if not longer.” Taflen gaped at the terrain.
    “They won’t be the only ones set back a generation if they win. What of Bhreac Veryan? What of us? Our empire crumbles if we lose Niam Liad. It’s the city we use to hold all the land on this side of Yn Brydio Ad. Without it, the linchpin is pulled from the empire, and the other cities will fall just as easily. We need to win this war more than they do.” Locsyn was feeling particularly sour this morning.
    “We’ll win it. Did you see that lot break and run at Miath Mhor? They’ve got nothing for us in combat.” Gwyth grinned.
    Taflen broke into his schoolteacher voice. “The Lianese are well aware of that, which is why they are trying to defeat us by lack of food, rather than skill of arms. They are poor soldiers compared to us, but they may have hit upon a strategy which can overcome our superior forces if those forces are weakened and taken from the field of battle before the battle commences.”
    “Taflen, Locsyn, Gwyth, shut it. We’re here to look for food, not plan the whole campaign. We can’t control the strategy, so worry about finding the supplies we’re out here to look for and then haul it back to camp.”
    Rhocas was the only member of the five who had not spoken, and he continued to march with his head down and his shoulders slumped, looking as if he would rather be any other place than where he was. The battle had taken something from him, and he struggled with that loss. Perhaps he would come out of it; certainly, the hope of this foraging was that Rhyfelwyr and the others could pull him from his shell, but there was such a gap in age and experience between the veterans and this novice soldier that the sergeant worried Rhocas would wander through the war depressed and uncertain of his position.
    A low whistle from ahead caused Rhyfelwyr to raise his hand, gesturing for the squad to to hunker down behind a low rise. Slipping over that rise came Llofruddiwr, making a gesture for ten. When he settled in next to Rhyfelwyr, the sergeant whispered. “Ten soldier patrol?” Llof nodded, not saying anything. “Can we go around, or is this a case of going through?”
    “Through.”
    “Damn it. Do you have any suggestions?”
    “Kill them?”
    “Thanks.” Rhyfelwyr gestured for the others to group about him. “We’ve got a ten soldier patrol ahead, and Llof says we have to clean up. Gwyth, you take