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Ike, who was close to me, supported me with his hand and gave the gossip a heavy look.
Hmmm, it seems my presence is not very well influencing the situation in the detachment, no matter how much I try to be as less visible as possible.
While Ike was in charge of setting up the camp, I sat down on my blanket, not far from the black campfire, where his people were already dexterously bringing bundles of brushwood.
It would be necessary to help them of course.
Now I just stretch, wipe my eyes and go.
Oh, how it hurts.
I woke up closer to the night, from the pain in my bowed neck (not in that age when I was in bed) and from the feeling that someone’s cold fingers were touching my thigh.
I managed to completely wake up, shudder and almost shout at the durn, until I realized that these fingers belong to my own hand, which became numb because in a dream I somehow bent on my side and lay down on it.
Dani was going to help people and build relationships at the same time – well done, what to say.
The end of the evening was just as depressing as the whole day – after dinner (onion soup, well, not bread and cheese, and thanks for that) Ike and I laid out blankets on an armful of fir tree branches and fell asleep, exchanging literally a couple of meaningless phrases.
The same agonizing days were dragged out – the state of a hungover zombie in the morning, when literally the whole body aches, dull monotonous swaying in the saddle with the only thought “Just not to fall down” all day and a complete departure from reality into blissful darkness all night.
I lost count of days, and although Ike assured that it was only two weeks from the capital to Zirrax, it seemed to me that this damn trip had pulled out of my life for at least two months.

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When the dense forests were replaced by stunted bushes, with sparse weed and sandy bald patches, like on the head of a venerable tradesman, all people began to behave more cautiously and on daytime halts Ike commanded full combat readiness.
If before the warriors were without helmets and latinas, and the shields were carried behind their backs, now everyone flaunted full armor (albeit with an open visor) and moved the shields forward to the left shoulder.
Some even faked chain mail for plate armor.
And who did not wear the whole chain mail, they simply closed the unprotected places with pieces of chain mail.
I followed this rattling company with interest, and thought about the topic of how they, poor fellows, walk in such armor in a big way (sorry), if they can neither bend over their belts, nor make hands under the armor to lower their pants.
From idle, but interesting thoughts, I was pulled out by Ike.
Put on – he handed me something suspiciously heavy and metallic.
Mail? To me? What for? So that I just did not live up to the arrival? Maybe not needed? – I tried timidly to bring the voice of reason and humanity to my sovereign.
Dani, we are entering the border steppe.
Here raids of robbers and orc squads happen more often than you blow your nose.
Put on, just in case.
But if that, do not go into battle, – he explained patiently, pulling on me jingling crap

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Ha, “do not go into battle.”
But without this warning, I would have imagined myself to be Avelin the Victorious and would have mounted my pinto horse in the first row of cavalry, one might think.
Mail from afar is a shirt woven from metal threads.
Nearby mail is the armor of thousands of strong, flattened rings, each of which is riveted to give strength.
The mail on your carcass is a heavy, black-smelling thing that crumbles from every movement, with its weight does not let you easily raise your hand, breathe into your full chest, run from the fire to the horse and jump into the saddle.
Plus, the helmet is a heavy bucket, pulling the head back, preventing hearing, stinking of oxidizing metal.
“Well, God knows that, and the helmet is clearly too big,” Ike drawled.
A couple of days will have to suffer, Dani.
We will be home soon.
I’ll give you a shield when you sit on a horse.
I stumbled awkwardly towards the pinto.
I tried to pull myself up to sit in the saddle – I felt that I could not.
With the help of Hayk, the soldiers were cheering with a circus number. “Raise me up in the saddle up the bottom, hold my leg in the stirrup”, I finally climbed on my bed. Sex porno online shemale oral sperm.

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