A few more hours passed, and Vined remained outside the tent without moving much from his place.
The cold slowly grew sharper as light snow began to fall from the dark sky, settling over the ground in a thin white layer.
The air felt heavy and still, yet the distant noise of celebration never truly faded.
Even as time went on, he stayed there, as if leaving now would only make his thoughts worse.
The soldiers showed no signs of stopping their celebration.
They brought barrel after barrel, laughing loudly as they drank without care for anything else.
Some shouted stories of the war, while others sang songs that echoed through the camp.
To them, this was a night of victory, something they would remember with pride for the rest of their lives.
Vined, however, could not share in that joy at all.
He kept looking up at the sky, his breath turning into mist in the cold air as he let out quiet sighs again and again.
