Soldiers filled the clearing, either eating dinner or sleeping in neatly assembled rows of small tents, cots, and blanket rolls. They passed Rory's company, slipped between a row of large water bladders hanging from tripods, and stopped at a cheery little fire. It burned in a ring of stones, with a couple of logs nearby for benches. No one else was around. Shona sat on a log and drew Connor down beside her. The afternoon was fast fading, and shadows lay over the forest. Even with hundreds of soldiers within earshot, for the moment they were very much alone. Connor felt intensely aware of Shona's presence close beside him. He blessed the spirits for granting him so much time with her. Shona handed him a cup. "Drink this." Connor gulped the contents. Water, but filled with grit, as if she'd scooped it from the bottom of the river. He grimaced. "What was that?" "Soapstone." Well, at least it wasn't sand, but no one had mentioned any special properties of soapstone yet.
