TheMadDash

    Mud painted on her cheeks, Telsha surveyed the battlefield. Though they had won, it felt like defeat: death had stolen some of her warriors today.      Her eyes settled on her remaining troop. She counted eleven. There were six missing. "Go," she said, her voice hoarse. "Find any survivors. If they're ours, bring them back. If they're not, make it a clean kill. Hurry." With weapons in hand, her warriors left. They knew that time was of the essence, especially in these parts.    There were creatures who would soon be arriving.    Telsha took her falchion out of the bandit's stomach. She winced. Her ribs hurt. Once they were a safe dist