Phaedra stared down at the reddish purple fruit pondering how you were supposed to eat it. Eudoxia has found it in the saddlebag of one of he dead Khareeds and passed it along. Phaedra suspected this was less out of generosity and more because the other woman was as uncertain as how to eat it as Phaedra was and didn't want to look the fool. Looking around to make sure she wasn't observed Phadera took an experimental bite of the fruit only to find the rind tough and bitter. She spat it out and put two fingers into the bite, pulling the thing appart with a gentle crack. The interior seemed to be white pulp around dark red nodules. She pulled a few free and put them in her mouth finding them to be sweet and tart.

The afternoon was wearing on and there was a worrying cloud of dust on the western horizon. The Khareeds they had fought were a detachment of that larger force, probably a rearguard that had realized that the Imperials had doubled back during the previous night. Phaedra was constitutionally unable to take infantry very seriously, but even the mightiest mare could be taken down by a sufficient number of ants, and that host had plenty and more Khareeds beside. Worse still if they waited to morning they would be fresh, not like the force they had just bested that had been eating dust all day.

The cataphracts were busily looting the enemy dead and gathering up their own dead. Here and there brief squabbles were erupting over the privileges of plunder. The cataphracts were taking the natural position that all the enemy dead that had fallen before the infantry line were their by right, wheras Brasidas' men were of the opinion that this was a team effort and thus everyone had equal right to the loot. For the most part her Tetrarchs were breaking up the squabbles. The thrill of victory was keeping the arguments good natured and in several places trades were taking place, jewelry for coins, food for wine skins. 

"First," Phoebe called as she trotted up, followed by the former princess royal - now Miravette apprentice - Tachmeena. The girl had been dressed in the armor of the dead member of Phoebe's Tetrad she had replaced, and had a sprig of local brush tied around her neck in place of Miravette wood. Her lustrous hair had been gathered back into a severe pony tail and her face was sweat and dust stained in the aftermath of the battle. Phaedra hoped Phoebe had kept her back during the battle, but judging by her half empty quiver she had at least contributed something.

"Good spoils, but we are short on wood for pyres," her Lieutenant reported. Phaedra nodded, the spirits of the dead would be delayed if their bodies were not burned, a constant problem in this tree poor wilderness. 

"We can tear down buildings in the town," Phoebe suggested, inclining her head to the half destroyed village. Phaedra shook her head though not exactly in contradiction. Her eyes were still on the dust cloud. They could be here by nightfall if they rode hard, though she doubted they would risk a night fight after an exhausting march.

"We aren't going to have time..." she trailed off as Brasidas and Tychon climbed the small rise towards them.

"I'll talk to our esteemed commander first but lay the dead out in the houses, then get everyone busy collecting arrows, ours, theirs, whatever you can get." Phoebe nodded and turned to begin shouting orders. Phaedra clashed her fist to her chest in semi ironic salute at the approaching men. She scooped out another few mouthfuls of the fruit and chewed as they approached.

"A fine day's work," she commented, sweeping out a gauntleted hand to encompass the bloody field, already infested with buzzards and circling crows.