[Kransha]

Idruil stood, exercising his numb, chilled legs for the first time in long hours. The day had come, as he said the previous night when that veil of gloom descended. There was still a stinging darkness lingering in the air around him and the others, but the bright sphere in the sky brought sorely needed warmth as the seemingly barren wasteland of thought and land began opening up in color.

And that color began stirring in Idruil’s pallid features as he watched, one by one, his companions returning. He knew that Delphinious had perished, but the others had miraculously survived. Something alluding to a smile crept across the man’s cold features as he walked forward, assessing the ‘newcomers’ as they headed into the innards of the makeshift camp, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

He turned towards Maen, who was still sitting opposite him, and took a few small steps toward her. To the best of his knowledge, she was still brooding, but he could not tell. All of his comrades seemed to be enigmas all their own, and Lady Maen Il Galoth was no exception. Heading to her, he leaned down and spoke, trying to make his course, hard voice sound more pleasant in these hard times.

“Miss Il Galoth, all those who have survived the fray have now returned. There is naught to do but go on at this point and, if I might be so bold, I suggest we make haste. Though a friend has passed this night, he will not be forgotten if we continue on. Atharen and Roryn have returned, Ferethor is so far well-mended, and to linger here too long would only leave us all vulnerable to a possible counter-attack by the vile rogues that accosted us and took the live of your…of our friend, Delphinious.”

He pulled himself back up again, to his full height, taking a quick glance back at the others.

“My lady, it is time for us to leave this forsaken place.”