49. A bad joke

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"Ell! Ell! Over here!" I turn my head to where my name is being called from and there is Sage hobbling towards me supporting a bleeding shoulder.

"Sage! Are you okay?" I call out.

"I'll live," he chuckles, "just. Blimey though, that was intense, thank god for Killian, without him and the moves that he taught us, I would be a corpse by now." 

"From what I saw you looked as though you had been doing those moves for a lot longer than a few days!"

"You were watching? I'm surprised you could see me from that distance!"

"What?" and then I realise he does not know that I was the one using the bow, "Oh, I came down and joined the battle."

"Is that why your head is bleeding — and your arm!"

"It is?" I cautiously raise my hand up to my head and draw it back, shocked at seeing some dark blood staining my finger tips. "I must have hit it when I fell, it is beginning to dry up though."

"Come on, let me take you to the healer to get you patched up, it really does not look good."

I shake that idea off, neither of the cuts are bothering me, "It is fine, we must help other people first who need attention far more urgently." I take another look at his wound and at his face trying not to grimace in pain, "I would almost say you need to be taken care of, your bleeding is a lot worst, press down on you shoulder, it should stop the flow a bit."

Sage nods, "Maybe you are right, I shall see you later after I've been tended to, I do still think you need to get your head bandaged,"

"I won't die on you, I promise," I say.

We part ways and I head between groups sprawled out on the green, checking to see who needs my help. It pains me to see the bloody scene before my eyes, only hours ago was this a site of celebration and happiness, now it is instead filled with pain.

Hours go by, people return from the safe plateau and assist with caring for the injured and providing food and warmth by a fire to combat the cold wind that has begun blowing down through the valley.

It is as I am on my way back from gathering a women spare furs from the village hall, that I come across the prisoners who decided to surrender rather than losing their lives. They are bound tightly to posts with ropes and standing in front of them is Killian and another man.

Oh how the tables have changed.

All the prisoners look horrible, covered in blood and bruises, almost making me pity them.

Almost, but not quite.

"That is enough questioning, you will not get anything more out of them today." Killian speaks to the man beside him.

"I agree, we shall leave them here, maybe the snow will inspire them to talk later on." They start walking off in the direction of the village well.

"The snow?" I echo, running to catch up to the two men's surprise.

"Ell, you're okay," Killian says, relief in his voice.

I smile and then listen to the man, "Yes, a snow storm will hit sometime in the next week, cutting the village off probably until spring," The man explains.

I meet Killian's eyes, a silent agreement going between us, it is time for us to leave.

"On that note" the man continues, "I must go remind everyone that we need to bring in the sheep tomorrow for we were going to do that today. Killian can you pull up a bucket of fresh water?"

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