They hardly slept.
Three hours, maybe four, of rotating shifts on the hard ground, with the sounds of battle in the distance reminding everyone who tried to close their eyes why they were there in the first place.
When Marshal's voice broke through the darkness before dawn with such clarity that it sounded like she hadn't slept at all, Lucian was already sitting up with his boots half-laced and his sword belt fastened.
"We're behind schedule," she said as she walked through the camp with a low lantern. "Double-time march."
"We're leaving in ten minutes."
No one said anything. That was different, and Lucian noticed it because Octavia would have said something about being woken up before the birds three days ago.
