Lost Battle

Damian woke up in yet another unfamiliar place. After blinking several times, his vision cleared, and he realized he was in a tent. His hands were free, and there were no guards stationed nearby. They must've stopped caring about him, huh? Looking around, he noticed tens of people lying around him, either sleeping or quietly being tended to by healers. Some groaned in pain, but there was little conversation.

An infirmary.

He looked down at his body, which was wrapped in white linen bandages, covering the injuries he had sustained in the fight last night. At least, he assumed it was last night—he felt rested enough, and it seemed like a new day. His shoulder was covered the most, but his hands and legs were bandaged as well.