Enchantment of the Bow

Chapter Sixty-One

Jed's POV

As if he would need proof of Sebastian's murder, Claudius went back to the body to tuck the newly detached head of the Snake into a burlap bag to bring back to the King. I can't help but think that his behavior is similar to a cat bringing its master dead things it kills. It was good thinking on his part, though; If Aizen sees the physical evidence, he will be even more contented in knowing that the issue had been deposed of properly.

I know that Syl hadn't taken Sebastian's head from his shoulders when killing him originally, so I try not to think too intently on the bloody knife that Claudius wipes on his trousers, eyes darting to mine briefly, having felt my gaze on him. He sheaths the dagger and ties the bag shut, approaching Samson and his Guardsmen in silence.

Titus, who shadows him like a dog, looks up at me with a grateful smile, despite his bruised face and split lip. He is content with being alive, and seems to be more interested in the pain of his Prince, rather than his own. Once I give him a nod in return to his smile, he continues to trot over to Samson with the Ginger Giant.

I swallow and look away from the blood dripping a trail on the ground, soaking through the burlap bag in Claudius' grasp and mingling with the leaves and mud. I instead turn my attention on Hamais' quivering, seeing the way he keeps an eye trained on Dazarias. To say the least, it was stressful for him to pony a predator who yearned for a taste of him, and his nervousness is very plain. I press the fingers of one hand against his shivering skin, tracing calming patterns on his sweat-dampened coat and whispering words of praise into his ears. He flicks one back to listen to me and keeps the other pointed in the direction of Samson and his beast, but his quivering slowly subsides. I work my way up his neck and across his poll, then back down the other side, beneath his dark mane.

Samson's face is turned towards me, but when I glance at him, it is clear that he is not watching what I am doing. His green eyes are unfocused and glazed over, staring unseeingly at my foot. His body addresses itself to holding Dazarias still, while his mind has wandered elsewhere- maybe to Lyra, or to the pain he is trying to keep from showing on his face. While he is not paying attention to me, I survey his wounds, continuing to sooth Hamais with my hands.

The Prince bleeds through a cloth that is tied to his shoulder and there is more crimson at the corner of his mouth, which is pressed into a thin line. The paleness of his face, the slight frown upon his lips and the way his brow furrows slightly, all indicate that he is in a good deal of pain. Yet, he does not complain or draw attention to his injuries. Perhaps he has yet to feel them- it may take a while before his body settles and allows him to feel anything, depending on how severely he was shaken by whatever happened to him.

I can deduce that he had fallen from his beast and bitten his tongue, due to his dirty clothing and over all disheveled appearance, as well as the fact that when we arrived at the scene, Dazarias was a streak of white darting past us, riderless and savage. It was simultaneously at this moment when I realized that the scuffle going on nearby was of two men, one of which was very clearly Titus. With no time to think, I yelled at Syl and Adolin to help him before taking off after the Vann-Hest, who was even more of a danger to everyone without the guiding restriction of a rider.

There is a crashing nearby that steals my attention from Samson as Syl and Adolin lead their horses through the trees towards us, having retrieved them from where they were left tethered among some trees and brush. Syl's chestnut chews on its bit and follows lazily, while Adolin's mount fights him all the way, preferring solitude over his rider's heavy seat and clumsy hands.

The noise has shaken the Prince from his thoughts and he looks up as well, just in time to keep Dazarias from taking a leisurely snap at Titus' arm. His eyes become alert again and he un-clenches his jaw long enough to spit a wad of blood and saliva on the ground, turning his head away from the beast he holds.