One of the wounds in his shoulder had healed, and another was coming along slowly. He sat on the banks of the river and watched the army train and grow. One night when the army returned, it was without a general, and the village wailed for days. He tilted his head back and enjoyed the whisper of the wind through his colorless hair, and when he smiled, his eyes glinted brown again. The new general would be fantastic indeed. His time had come.
White robes billowed in the wind as he rose, and he set off for the next healing.
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