The world reassembled itself in a field of long, tall grass. Dakshana was clad in more leather, a kilt to protect her legs, a sturdy breastplate studded with metal. And she carried a metal sword, short, but vicious. Her helmet was stuffy and hot, but the men around her didn’t seem to mind. And they had large feather plumes bursting from their helmets.
What was going on?
The commanders rallied their cries. “They come! Ready for battle!”
And there was a thunderstorm of footsteps as the men around Dakshana formed neat ranks, shields high.
A war-cry broke the sky.
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