The White Rose

8. Out for Blood

Nura's fingers stretch across the cold bedsheets, her eyes still closed, feeling as though grain has been rubbed into them. Her hand doesn't find who she was hoping to and she squints an eye open to see the bed beside her empty. She buries her face back into the pillow, her muscles crying for her to cocoon herself in warmth and comfort and never move again. But the world demands otherwise and always has when Nura's involved.

An odd feeling churns in her stomach as she sits up. Like butterflies, but these butterflies have jagged wings and they're frenzied. Nura presses her hand to her stomach and breathes in, trying to settle her nerves. She has too much to do today to be wracked with such a thing.

She rubs at her grainy eyes with her palms, shoves the blanket off her legs, and stands, gradually preparing herself for the day ahead.

She gets dressed and skips breakfast, having no stomach for it. Instead she chews on Evergreen root to ease the pounding behind her eyes, the thick taste of mint and dirt filling her mouth. She looks outside where the light needles into her head as she chews. She has to face it all eventually.

Nura steps onto the porch and tosses the chewed root to the grass. She watches the soldiers pack their camp and prepare to leave again. Tiran spots her and makes his way towards her, clad once again in his heavy plated steel that clanks with each step he takes

"Ma'am," he greets, his helmet tucked under his arm as he nods his head at her.

"Knight-Captain," she replies, surveying the scene before her as the soldiers mount their horses. "You're leaving."

"We are, and I suggest you do the same."

"I have to wait for Rephas to come back from..." her voice trails off as she realises she doesn't know where he is. Usually it doesn't concern her because she knows he's working tirelessly. But today Nura would have thought he wouldn't leave her side.

The soldier narrows his gaze.

"He'll be back from making preparations soon," Nura finishes, even as her gaze flicks to the forest and gruesome thoughts of Shadow Elves and poisonous traps enter her mind.

"Very well," he says with a stiff bow. "I thank you for your hospitality."

"And I thank you for your protection," she says, intertwining her fingers behind her back, her nerves clenching in her stomach once again.

Tiran turns to join his men but pauses. "If you see any Elves," he says and the words wrap around Nura's throat, "don't hesitate to reach out to me. We're stationed at Fort Dunmyr."

"I thought we no longer hunted Elves in the Human lands."

"We don't, I just have a few questions for this particular Ice Elf." He marches away and Nura's hands tighten behind her back, her nails digging into her skin as she watches them go. Their horses thunder up the hill, the sun glinting on their armour as they reach the road and disappear.

Nura leaps down the steps and runs to Rephas' alcove beside the cabin, his smelter and workbenches within, cluttered with tools and game.

"Rephas?" she calls, but she doesn't see him amongst the shadowed area.

The nerves in her stomach jump and writhe, threatening to make her sick.

Her hands curl into fists and she looks towards the road, towards the village. Someone will have seen something. He would have told someone where he was going. Nura doesn't intend to leave without her husband.

She rushes to the stables, her breaths coming short as she saddles her mare, Rephas' stallion munching on hay within.

He walked. He walked to the village. That's what she keeps telling herself as she rides through the grass and towards the village of people who want her blood.