[Taralphiel]

The two sat in the sun for a while longer, watching the light wind stir the leaves, and the sound of children playing and running from garden to hallway. Lys gingerly stretched out his legs, and saw that his legs had grown a healthy pink from the warmth. Carefully he stood and turned to the Healer.

“Shall we walk a little way again? I wish to see more, and not sleep. I have done more than enough of that in my room…” Hrethel clapped his hands on his knees in agreement and eased his knees up straight with some soothing words.

“Let us see what the streets will be like. I do not think you will manage it today, but perhaps another day we may take you on a trip to the markets.”

Hrethel and Lys set out, taking another slow walk through the Mead Hall and the grounds without, watching the sun rise to its height. Once they had made a fair distance around the surrounding streets, they made their way for the main entrance and for Lys’ room. Hrethel was talking of herb lore and the various ingredients in poultices for a myriad of ailments when to his distress he saw that Lys was no longer walking beside him. The boy had stopped a few yards back, his head turned to the East.

Lys was looking up at the sun, and the line of the buildings next to him. Hrethel slowly stopped by his side and touched his shoulder.

“What be the matter, boy?”

Lys pointed to the rooftops. “I have seen them before. It was the cold dawn. And here…”

The young boy turned his hand down to the ground. There the collection of barrels and kegs still stood, the shield for where Lys had been curled up weeks ago. What colour care and healing had put into the young boy’s face had gone, and he trembled. The old man sighed and gently took his hand.

“It will take more time. Be patient, young Lys. Not all wounds heal like skin and bone.”

Lys looked back to the man, nodding.

“I…understand. I understand it now, sir. But I do remember some things. I remember fear, pain and a cruel laugh in the night. Will time heal this?”