Troy
The fog had finally lifted from the deep blue sea, and now I could clearly see salty tide crashing against the sandy banks of Troy. The air was hollow and had a musky scent. The smell of morning air, there’s nothing quite like it. I couldn’t tell if I was cold, or the feeling of my sweat-coated undergarments just gave me the sensation. It had been a good month since I had washed them, maybe two. It didn’t really matter; the stench of camp had such a robust and extremely putrid smell that my garments were hardly noticeable. Not to mention the reeking smell of the thousands of other soldiers with the same level of cleanliness that I had.