Sentinel

It was another long night of keeping watch without a fire. The roads were dangerous. He could smell olives on the trees, mingling with the scent of damp earth. The air was hushed and expectant, as though before a squall. Distant noises reached his ears: the rustling of the branches and leaves, or the steady footsteps of someone’s approach? The moon above was gone, with only the stars to accompany him till morning.

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