[Farael]

Osmod could not sleep. It was in part due to the pain on his limbs and his chest, but it was mostly because of another kind of pain. He had been the first one to gaze upon the burnt village and he had been all alone when he did so. His mind kept going back to that terrible moment when he saw the town from afar.

...His horse was panting, and so was him. He was trying to rid his mind of those doubts by showing himself just how far he could go without breaking. His horse seemed to have understood his master’s thoughts and did not complain when Osmod set a gruelling pace for the two of them. There was a hill and night was nearing, so Osmod decided to give his horse a rest while he went up on the hill to scout forward. After all, he still had to scout for the riding party. He grabbed a water skin and his sword and ran up the hill, until his legs ached and his temples throbbed.

He reached the top of the hill and breathed in a lungful of air. Something did not feel right. He thought it was because he was tired and so he bowed his head and breathed slowly, taking in big gulps of air rather than faster and smaller ones. It was still not alright. At last, he lifted his head and looked towards the horizon. There was a town, not too far ahead, and something did not sit right with it. At first, Osmod’s tired mind could not understand what was going on. Then he understood. That village was dead. Not just empty, as the other town had been, but dead. The enemy had reached it before the people managed to escape. The wind was blowing his way and carrying the scent of rotting bodies. The smell of death was what he had been breathing in.

Osmod fell to his knees and screamed. He felt like running down to the town and searching for anyone living, whether friend or foe. He wanted to help the people of the town first and foremost, but as his anger boiled over, the idea of fighting some orcs felt quite appealing. Yet common sense won the battle that time and he whistled for his horse to come back to him. He needed to get to his group and he needed to do so fast. It was no longer safe for him to be alone...

Osmod turned in his bedroll, trying to avoid a particularly annoying root and heard some footsteps going away from the camp. He sat up and looked around. Meghan was missing, he assumed she had gone for a walk. It was not safe to do so, not this late at night and alone, so Osmod thought he had to call her back. Yet maybe she needed some time alone, just like he had needed it that same afternoon. On second thought, Osmod dressed up, put his boots on, grabbed his sword and followed Meghan. He kept his distance and walked as softly as he could manage. He wanted to be able to protect her, not to interfere with her thoughts.

She went down the hill and into the burned town and Osmod thought of stopping her again. He decided against it, as he also wanted to see what had happened. Meghan walked into the village, stopping for a moment here, a second there. She seemed to be lost in thought and Osmod did not dare to interrupt her, even when he felt he needed some company. The mangled bodies of the orcs dead during the attack on the city were still laying where they had fallen. ”What kind of a heartless army does not look after their dead?”. Even the defeated villagers had collected their dead, as none could be seen. Osmod frowned as he realized the impossibility of what he had just thought. Someone else had been there before them.

There was no way of knowing whether that ‘someone’ would be their friend or foe, so Osmod hurried to catch up with Meghan. She had found her way to the village square and was standing next to a funerary pyre. Whoever had taken the bodies of the dead villagers had done so to make sure they did not become carrion for the animals. He approached Meghan. She was playing a slow, sad melody and Osmod waited until she was done. He understood this was her way to pay her respect to the dead, and he felt the need to do the same. He kneeled down and drew a pattern in the dirt. It was a different pattern from what he drew when they made camp. It was meant to symbolise a resting ground. His grandmother had told him it helped the deceased ones find their true resting places.

He stood up and cleared his throat. He did not know how to get Meghan’s attention without startling her, as she seemed lost in her own thoughts. He spoke, hoping she would not be too startled.

”Don’t worry Meghan, it will not be the same for Bregoware.” He forced a confident look on his face, even though he did not feel that way at all ”They are coming this way now, our families. Tomorrow they will be across the river and maybe they will meet with some of the other villages. The more people they gather, the more able men there will be. They will be ready and able to keep the orc bandits at bay”.

Osmod hoped his face would not betray his words as he offered Meghan his hand. ”Do you think we should head back now? Forgive me if I followed you, but I heard you leave and I did not want to let you come by yourself. The village might have not been empty. And I couldn’t sleep anyway” With a sad smile he looked at the hill where the rest of the group was sound asleep. Suddenly, Osmod realized they had left no guards to look for any signs of the enemy approaching. It was a bad oversight and he would not let that happen again, yet right there and then, his first concern was Meghan's safety, as well as his own.