Jamethera dragged herself back to the camp–since neither Illyana nor her sister were Templars, and the mood was still rather paranoid, she was out of the walls more often than not. 

"Jam. What happened?" The warrior looked up from the fire.

The hunter stopped, her brain too fuzzed to think much. She wanted sleep more than anything. "It was a good throw," she muttered.


"That's what I said. Wait, no. I said, fucking shitfuck."

"Are you okay?"

"Ask me again in the morning." She fell face first on her bedroll. "…It was a good throw."

Author Ambrosine
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