Lord Moon was said to grow stronger during the winter.  Many said that Lady Sun turned her face from the world during this time as she wept for her starving children, while others whispered that the madness of starvation is what gave Lord Moon his strength.  There was no doubt that the silver glow of the moonlight now haunted the night sky with greater regularity and prominence.  Cold winds blew upward with greater force with the promise of the coming snow.  Leaves already turned to their golden hew, shining bright before their last flight to the earth.  Soon those remnants of summer would freeze to their graves while lonely scavengers tried to survive.  Deep inside the fur lined structure that served as Rokuro’s tent he could feel a touch of that chill.<br/><br/>Winter also meant a time to show strength.  A time when the mighty Isawa called upon his warlords to ensure that peace lasted through the coldest months and that obedience would quickly be regained in the spring.  Bandits also traveled the land to gather the last vestiges of food from unwary farmers storing up for the cold months.  Such men had fallen before Rokuro patrol many times before and this season had been no different.  Yet this time there had been organization and structure, there had also been swords where before there were only spears.  Something on a larger scale was occurring in place of just simple raiders.  Chanarong would need to hear such news no matter how distressing.<br/><br/>Around his tent milled soldiers.  Their voices raised in celebration over their latest victory.  Behind such joy echoed the pangs of sorrow as women cried for men died and innocence lost.  The youngest and most beautiful would be taken as trophies of warfare from farms that resisted.  Isawa was strict with his orders that no food was to be taken from the farms just before winter as he knew hungry men became desperate men.  Yet there was nothing to be said for the women and treasures, both of which Chanarong overlooked as reward for fine service.  Such trophies now cried out while Rokuro lay beneath the furs in his tent.<br/><br/>Yet even with the furs a chill persisted.  A chill that dared to turn the flap of his tent and creep beneath his furs tonight.  Perhaps the men were playing another trick on their hero or perhaps the tent had simply lived past the age of service.  Eyes opening a slight bit he would see the dark hair of his furs blowing beneath the breeze.  A movement might prod him further awake, soon to be followed by familiar warmth against his chest.  Fingers curled against his flesh while soft lips brushed against the nape of his neck.  Against his nose was the scent of a woman while against his body was pressed her most intimate warmth.  A purr sounded against his ear before her voice confirmed her presence.<br/><br/>“Our most feared Warlord sends a gift to you master Rokuro.  A gift I can only pray you come to appreciate as the night grows colder.”<br/><br/>Another hand stroke his hair while lips probed against his earlobe.  The hand against his chest circled over his muscles and the one against his hair brushed him longingly.  A strange sensation touched him again while the furs seemed to allow another chill to run up his leg.  Such coldness was followed by warmth as two more hands run against his thighs, snaking their way upward to brush his member.  Glancing down he would see his furs rise to embrace the rounded bottom of another young woman.<br/><br/>“My sister and I both pray you appreciate our lord’s gift tonight.”<br/><br/>There was a giggle of mischief from beneath his furs.<br/>