Chapter 29: Herding Cats
The forest around Quintus and his patrol remained dark and eerily quiet. The night had long since lost its youth, the sun having set several hours ago. Back at camp, he knew, most men would still up around the fires or working by candlelight in tents before settling in for sleep. Despite that, It wasn't yet time to rest. Not for him.
The Primus Piluswas tired—not that he let it show. He'd been up early enough to greet the sun as it rose, and now had seen Sol's chariot retreat below the horizon. But such was the life of a centurion. Always vigilant, always on duty. The best of the best. It was one of the reasons that he was afforded certain privileges and better pay. As such, they could never show weakness to the men. It would be unacceptable.
And so, Quintus found himself on night patrol more often than the average Legionnaire. Far more often, considering that he was the first centurion. Leading by example was even more important in his case. He was the centurion to which all other centurions would look to—an example to them as they were to their men. That wasn't official doctrine, but it explained why he was out in the woods so late, even when he was beginning to suspect he might be getting a little too old for this.
His grip shifted on his torch, illuminating another section of treeline. The forest was too quiet, and it was keeping him on edge. Every other time he'd been out here over the past week or two, the place had felt alive, even at night. Even as the shadow panthers began to give the camp a wide berth. Only the shade slingers had ever really quieted its usual activity, and in quite a different manner than this. The silence felt ominous now. Just the wind and the rustle of the leaves—no birds or chittering of strange insects in the trees.
The silence and the slight chill in the air put both Quintus and his men on edge—to the point that the sound of a horn cutting through the darkness was almost a relief. It wasn't the first time a patrol had sounded the alarm to request backup. Normally such events were borne of an abundance of caution more than anything else. Oftentimes it meant that someone had encountered a panther or two, and the team wanted to play it safe rather than attempting to handle it alone. It was all in line with established doctrine.
Quintus quickly mobilized his patrol to assist, signaling to the neighboring patrols to take over their portion of the forest in the meantime. His group moved toward the source of the horn at a fast trot. They were careful not to make too much noise—though the additional padding they'd added to muffle their armor only did so much—but prioritized getting there quickly and in fighting shape. Still, Quintus remained relatively unconcerned. Alert and ready for trouble, but not expecting much.
But when they arrived, the sight before them gave him pause.
Another patrol occupied a large clearing that spanned a couple hundred paces wide. They'd been pushed back to one of its edges and divided in half, seeming to struggle as they were kept on the back foot. But it was their opponent that truly surprised Quintus. It was a single woman, clad in dark clothing and wielding small daggers in each hand.
Quintus blinked at the sight. A single person had managed to scatter an entire patrol—a woman, at that. Yet in the fraction of a second it took to absorb the scene, he realized that something else felt off. This wasn't the full picture.