[Farael]

The forward group rode all day at a steady pace, stopping only once for rest and a quick lunch. Osmod was silent most of the way, thinking ahead of the road they still had to cover and constantly looking around for signs of danger. It was rather surprising then, when the other scouts came back and asked him if he was thinking about stopping for the night. Surely there was still plenty of time before sunset.

That was not the case. Lost in his thoughts and with the sun at times being covered by trees, Osmod had not realized as the day had slipped by. They looked for a good place to stop and found a small hill just a few minutes ride ahead. It was not too high, so the wounded would be able to climb it easily, yet a thick clump of trees grew close to the top, which would provide wood for fire and protection from the wind. It was also easily defensible, which Osmod considered should be taken into account whether they liked the idea or not.

There were many things to do and not enough time if the camp was to be set before the wounded rode in. Wood needed to be gathered and larger logs would probably need some cutting, the horses needed to be tended, a fire started and food prepared. Osmod asked Fion to walk with him to the woods while Athwen and Eostre looked after the horses. He had heard Dorran had some skill with food so he asked the young man if he needed anything to prepare a meal. The young man seemed to hesitate for a moment and then quietly asked Osmod if no-one would ride back to meet with the wounded. They would not make it to the camp before nightfall and they may get lost, he argued. Dorran was right, Osmod realized, and so he let the young man ride back to meet with the others.

Walking into the woods, Osmod started picking up fallen branches. He had kept himself busy during the day but now the thoughts of their fallen friend crept back into his mind. He wondered if the men of Rohan would fall too, littering the battle grounds as the branches littered the forests’ floor. For the first time, he realized that he may become one of those branches, whether fighting in battle or after all was lost. He felt then that maybe he would not be riding back to Bregoware after reaching the Golden Halls. Maybe he would stay and fight for those that could not. Glancing towards the camp he saw Athwen looking after her horse. She had lost it all without a chance to fight back, as had many others he did not know. It was not only for Ræwald he would fight for.