Whispers Of Peace And War

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Between them, Mythrd and Gythryn managed to drag the injured Gaeradine soldier into the forest. All the time, the man mumbled and groaned, passing in and out of consciousness. The night had fallen faster than Mythrd had expected and, with it, came a chill that made the sweat beginning to trickle down Mythrd's back feel like ice against his spine.

They did not have to go far, the stone circle sat in a flat clearing no more than a couple of dozen yards from the forest edge, but the dead weight of the soldier seemed to grow the further they moved. Gythryn didn't tire as much as Mythrd, but even she began to huff and puff the further they went.

Mythrd began to hear the night sounds of the forest, the many animals and creatures awakening to the darkness. He couldn't let themselves get caught away from the safety of Cythrûn Henge, but he wasn't certain he had the strength to drag the soldier much further. The forest felt as though it amplified the sounds of the green wood, but also made those sounds appear to circle them.

"For someone so thin, how can he be this heavy?" Laying the man's legs to the ground, Gythryn wiped her brow with the sleeve of her dress, blowing stray hairs from her face. "Is he wearing mail under his clothes?"

Making certain he didn't injure the man any more, Mythrd lowered the man's shoulders to the ground, then lifted the soil encrusted jacket, peeking inside. He couldn't see any chains, or boiled leather. Perhaps the man only looked thin and malnourished. For certain, as Mythrd had picked the Gaeradine up, he had felt strong, wiry muscles in his shoulders. He was not a weakling. Unlike Mythrd.

"I don't know, but if we don't get him to the henge soon, we'll all be food for wolves. Or worse." Bending backwards, pushing knuckles into the small of his back, Mythrd stretched before reaching down again. "Come on. Not much further."

With a sigh, Gythryn reached for the man's legs again and, together, they lifted him once more. Mythrd didn't know what injuries the man had suffered. Whether picking him up and carrying him like this made them worse or not. He only knew that he couldn't leave the man to die. Not alone.

Gythryn's parents and sister had died and Gythryn had found herself alone. Mythrd felt as though that had coloured his perception of everything ever since. After a few months, Gythryn began coming to terms with her loss and it felt strange to Mythrd that he never had. The deaths of his friend's family had caused him to consider everything in a different light.

Life, to Mythrd, was the single most precious thing in the world. He had never experienced the loss off life from so close, before the deaths of Gythryn's family. It brought home to him how fleeting everything was. How fragile people were. Both in body and mind. How lonely death could feel.

Even though he did not know this man, a man that any other Iibarish would consider a mortal enemy, Mythrd felt an overwhelming need to help him. Once again, he thought about how he and Gythryn differed. He would soon leave to join the army, there to learn how to kill. The very thought of which froze his heart. She to become a monk, dedicated to the Patrons and caring for those less fortunate.

It almost felt like a joke that they would each have to perform duties so far removed from who they were. He looked at Gythryn, as they shuffled further into the forest, and could see that she wore that sword at her belt as though born to it. Even her long, heavy, woollen dress couldn't dispel that thought. Mythrd would feel happy if he never touched a weapon in his life.

A keening howl arose from the forest and caused Mythrd's back to stiffen. Not a wolf, that he could tell. Something more foul. Ancient and twisted. He picked up the pace and hoped that the henge gave them the sanctuary they needed. If not, they could all become a fell creature's meal before morning.