Nomad {Editing}

::Chapter 23:: Innocents of War

Yet her voice through the blur and fog was enough, at least for the time being to bring the young wolf back to himself. Or whatever was left of his true self after years of being a monster. Charlie lowered his head.

Guilt ricocheted through him, wondering if Briar realised as to how close he had been to killing her. But he shook himself, forcing as much of the negativity away as he could. Charlie looked to her, desperate. "Can we find a tent, I cant stand being out here, with all these eyes."

He was very aware of how ludicrous he was being, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Even if the eyes of the petrified army were currently unseeing. It left him feeling unsettled.

"Of course," Briar said with a heavy sigh. Offering him her hand, which he took without hesitation.

The pair made their way through the camp, trying to find a tent left empty that didn't already stink of another person. At last they found one, and the pair settled on the hard floor, sitting in silence for a moment.

Resting his head back against the wall of the makeshift tent, Charlie didn't speak for a moment. He couldn't bring himself to. He was exhausted already, and now he was left even more uncertain of what tomorrow would bring.

After everything that had happened in the last few days, Charlie had even fewer people to trust.

And the lady in front of him, the one he had hoped to be able to trust, was now in most doubt of all. He watched her through one peeking eye, thinking for a while. Unsure of how to even begin with the thousands of questions bouncing around his skull.

So he went for the more direct route.

"Why did you think Anthony was dead?"

Briar had apparently expected this to be his question, and she held his gaze solidly for a moment. Before at last looking away with a low sighing sound before she responded in a quiet tone.

"Most people don't survive cyanide," her words were plain and simple. As though she was describing the weather, not her attempt at murder. "He, apparently managed." Her brow furrowed, as though she too was trying to understand how the hell he had done it.

The next question was the more difficult one, and it guilt burned at the very thought of asking it.

"Why?"

For a moment Charlie thought she was either going to punch him, or simply refuse to answer.

She watched him through twinkling eyes, the healer was forcing the tears away that much was apparent.

Charlie almost instantly regretted asking it, but unfortunately he didn't have the power to turn back time. All he could do was wait for her answer, be it in a positive or negative way. Charlie waited in an expectant silence.

"Anthony... He's a sadist," she answered after a moment. "He thought that war took away the rules. So he, he did terrible things." Her eyes twinkled again, but this time a barrage of tears sprinkled her cheeks. Unable to hold them back.

He said nothing. Despite the urge to beg her for forgiveness for bringing it up.

"Your King, your father was terrible to us. So he decided to lower himself to his standard." Briar explained, her voice staying surprisingly level in spite of the pain which underlay her tone. "Most of us just put up with it, thinking that the enemy was so much worse. He would never hurt any of his own people."

Now he could almost guess what she was going to say next, yet he remained on the edge of his seat. Needing the answers to come from her. To find it to be the truth, even if it was painful to hear it.