The owls body fell silently from the air and made a light splash in the boggy ground. Mae waited with the rest of the troop, watching a couple of nervous cadets begin to twitch and shoot wide eyed glances at each other. One began to stand and another, older soldier clamped a hand on their shoulder. He shook his head and brought the cadet back down to the ground. From her position, Mae shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Her feet were damp and she couldn't help but shiver in the crisp night air. Her body ached from holding herself low and still but she remained hidden in the reeds with her hand clamped against the hilt of her sword, waiting for a signal. Around them, thorny branches like spindles rustled in the wind. Slowly, the signal came from the front and the soldiers began to tentatively stand. Mae brushed the loose hair from her face and steadied herself, casting a glance around the empty sky. From somewhere in the distance there was a a soft lamenting howl. “What was that?” one of the nearby cadets whispered frantically. “The wind. I think it was the wind,” answered her friend. Mae kept her eyes skyward. It didn't sound like the wind to her.
