The war camp, the morning of departure
The small entourage was meant to leave within the hour, Harigupta's men were already loading the last of the supplies onto the horses, Kripa settled carefully into a covered litter two soldiers had rigged the night before to spare him the worst of the ride home.
Eshaan was helping secure the last of Kripa's bedding when the first horn sounded.
It wasn't the ordinary morning signal. It came sharp and repeating, three short blasts and a pause, then three more, the particular pattern Eshaan had learned during his week at the camp meant one thing only.
Attack.
"Get him inside," Harigupta barked, already moving, his sword half drawn before the horn had even finished its second cycle. "Now, Eshaan. Move."
