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The sound of a voice woke Athwen before dawn had completed itself. She squinted up at the swiftly brightening and sky and wondered if she really did have to get up quite yet. She had watched for the first hour last night and when she thought she could not possibly keep her eyes open any longer she had gone and woken Osmod. After a shamefaced admittance that she had only watched for an hour but felt too tired to stay awake any longer, she’d gone to bed. Now as she woke to the morning she felt as though for once, since her village was burned, that she could sleep longer. But that wasn’t to be. The ground was lumpy and the birds were calling, and they should be on their way as soon as possible anyhow.
With a prodigious great yawn, she sat up and stretched. Then she looked about, ready to greet anybody available with a merry good morning. But there was no one available. Incana was on watch - she could see her out in the woods - Meghann was bent over Brand, looking worried and distraught, and the others still slept. It must have been Meaghan’s voice that had woken Athwen, and she felt herself go cold suddenly and without explanation. The good humour she had awoken in retreated and hid and a strange fear slowly filled her, like a small, trickling stream slowly fills a pool of rock. She pushed the blankets off of herself and stood up.
She started across the camp to go to Meghan and see if something was wrong, and if there was, if she could help. Her steps led her beside the sleeping forms of the other two wounded companions - Vaenosa and Sythric. She looked at them as she passed. Sythric seemed to still sleep as well as anyone might except but Vaenosa. . .
One glance at the young woman’s face showed Athwen that something was wrong. She quickly turned and knelt beside her and reached out her hand to touch her face.
‘She’s cold!’ The words leaped out in a startled, high voice, and her hand jerked back. A tremor ran through her body and then she touched her again. She reached for Vaenosa’s hand and felt for a pulse. There was nothing. ‘Is she dead?’ she whispered. She could certainly feel her own heart pumping hard against her ribs, but the body beside hers was still. Still and so cold. Tears came to her eyes. ‘Dead?’
A movement to her right caused her to raise her head. Meghan had gotten up to her feet and she looked scared. Athwen stared up at her.
‘She’s dead?’ Meghan asked, indicating Vaenosa with a swift, downward glance of her eyes. Athwen nodded mutely, unable to speak immediately. ‘Brand is not well, either. I think. . .’she stopped and changed her course. ‘Where is Leod?’
Athwen turned her head the other way and her eyes swept the place where he should have slept. ‘I don’t know,’ her voice said, trembling. ‘I don’t know where he is, or if he ever returned from last night. He left at the very beginning of the night - he didn’t tell me where, but I thought he’d be back. He probably had to find some more plants to help him. . .but he’s not - he’s not back.’ Her voice failed her altogether then and even if she had wanted to say anything further, she couldn’t have. Vaenosa was dead, Brand was seemed to be leaving, and Leod was gone. Would they loose all of the ones who had been wounded?
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