((I'm working on this in chunks!))
There was nothing more satisfying than the sound of bone crunching, especially when it came from the face of the Draenei bastard she was pummeling. She’d warned them to leave her be, her foul mood and short fuse earning her a less than favorable reputation in the newborn faction that was the Argent Crusade. They were supposed to try to get along, and here she was in her third fight of the week, always with some poor Alliance schmuck.
Philomena didn’t care that the Draenei Paladin’s face was more midnight blue than pale, nor did she care that there was an audience taking bets and shouting at them. She didn’t care, didn’t think, couldn’t do anything but react to the anger that consumed her. She couldn’t even remember why this particular Paladin had pissed her off, but it felt good to pummel him, and now she was here, straddling his chest and using both fists to lay into him.
She lifted a fist to strike once more, her face twisted into a mask of rage, only to find herself grabbed by the back of her leather top and flung backwards. She hit the ground hard, and immediately moved to get up, taking the assault to be a challenge. She only got about halfway before a massive hand grabbed her by the mane and scruff of her neck, hefting her up so that her hooves nearly cleared the ground. She shouted Taurahe insults at her apparent captor, as she was moved away from the main camp, back to where she knew the Tauren tended to camp. It was there, with a few other Sunwalkers watching in interest, where she was dropped on her ass to face the one that had grabbed her.
“You shouldn’t cause so many fights among the Crusaders.” The voice moved from behind her and into the light of the campfire, a massive grey bull who looked very displeased with her. She’d seen him around a little since she’d joined, but she’d never met him personally.
“They’re Alliance, what does it matter to you if I kill them? They’d do no less to us.” She snapped back in irritation, even though she had a vague feeling that she’d be grossly outnumbered among them.
“You’re angry, too angry for one so young. You’re going to wind up getting yourself killed, or worse, killing the companions you’re supposed to be fighting alongside.” The big bull frowned, taking a seat near the fire. “You’re a Shu’halo warrior, but you fight like an angry kodo- all pissed off and with no sense of rhyme or reason. Now, what is your name, youngblood?”
She bristled at the slight, and for a moment she thought that he would be a good punching back, but the look in his brown eyes warned her against it. Instead, she huffed, crossing her arms and looking at the blood caking on her knuckles.
“Philomena Strongsoul.” She rolled her shoulders, her tail still twitching behind her in restlessness. The anger wasn’t fading, merely biding its time before she decided to beat someone else bloody. “And I’m going back to my tent.” She stood up, turning to leave before she caught sight of two of the Sunwalkers returning, one with her tent and minor things, the other with her beaten up platemail and sword. The bull chuckled a little, motioning for her to sit down.
“Yes, you’re going to your tent, but your tent will be with my Sunwalkers and I. I think it will do you some good to be around more level-headed soldiers. Now sit down and tell me why you’re so angry at the world. Tarn and Calen will take care of setting up your tent.” He watched her stand there, debating what she wanted to do. He’d made it clear she didn’t have much choice, and he really didn’t want to rescue her from herself a second time. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when she finally sat down, noting the anger in her eyes.
“So I’m your prisoner, then?” She refused to look at him, arms crossed once more as she glared into the fire. “Why do you care so much about what happens to me? I’m not a Sunwalker.”
“No, but I see someone who is hurting, and whose anger is going to get her killed at a young age. You’re no use to anyone dead.” He spoke simply, shrugging his shoulders at her. “I’ve seen you on the battlefield, you fight with great enthusiasm. But it’s wild, careless. You fight like you want to die, not like a proper warrior.”
Each word he spoke only angered her more, especially because he was hitting the truth. She spared a glance at the two Sunwalkers who were setting her tent up, and the moment they were done, she stalked towards it, going inside without so much as a pardon or a thank you. Tarn and Calen looked back at the bull still sitting by the fire.
“Should we haul her back out, Gerus?”
“No, leave her stew for now. With any luck what I’ve said will sink into that thick skull of hers.” The bull shook his head. “She’ll calm down. You should get to bed, we have a long way to go in the morning, especially since she’s coming with us.”
The two exchanged worried looks at the thought of such a wild Tauren at their backs, but didn’t argue with him as they headed off to their own tents for the night.
Of Lessons Past
Re: Of Lessons Past
Gerus had made sure the young Warrior was put with his group for the time being, and he tried his best to ignore her sullen behavior. The days passed with battles against the Scourge, chasing them out of some areas only to lose ground in others. She may have had a bad attitude, but she was close to being an ideal soldier- every order he gave, she followed with such determination that it surprised him, and yet it didn’t. She threw herself headfirst into whatever came her way, even at the cost of her own safety, and especially to protect a fellow soldier.
It was evening, and a quiet one at that. She sat in her usual spot, on a log that had been dragged close to the fire, her arm lifted a bit as a Shaman tended to the nasty cut she’d received. Gerus sat nearby, finishing the last of his meal in silence, the rest of the Sunwalkers mending their armor, sharpening their weapons, or generally unwinding from the day’s fights.
“… my father was murdered in his home the night we had a big fight.” Philomena, or Mena as he and the others had taken to calling her, finally answered his question from the first night. She closed her eyes, shoulders dropping. “I don’t even remember the fight, but I was so angry I didn’t come home that night. I said some horrible things. I returned that morning, and found him with his throat slit ear to ear and his room ransacked. They even took the trinket he kept of my mother’s.” She opened her eyes once more, when the Shaman lowered her arm and packed her medicines. “I fight with anger because it’s all I have left.”
“You have his lessons and his words in your heart, I’m sure.” Gerus studied her, finally seeing her without the anger keeping her tense and wound up. “You’re a dedicated fighter, and I know he would be very proud of you.”
She shook her head with a sad smile. “My anger got him killed. I may as well have wielded the knife that cut his throat. If I’d stayed home, he would have lived. He was an old man, I could have fought off his attacker…” She closed her eyes, letting her head hang as she admitted her shame. “It’s my fault.”
“You’re going to drive yourself mad with that sort of thinking. You cannot blame yourself for the actions of another.” Gerus smiled gently, trying to reassure her. “Instead of fighting with anger and regret, you should fight in his memory. Did he teach you to fight?”
She nodded her head in answer, taking a sip from her waterskin. “Yes. He was already old when he and my mother had me, and he trained the young warriors in our tribe and for the surrounding tribes. He was the wisest bull I knew. He taught us to be tempered in our fighting, but I was cocky because I was good.”
“Then take that memory, the strength and respect for him, and use that to fuel you when you fight. You will find it a more readily available source than anger.” He stretched his back a bit. “If you were Sunwalker, I would tell you to look to An’she, and let him guide you. I suppose it’s good advice for a Warrior, too. If you find the anger rising, meditate to An’she and you’ll learn to calm yourself.”
She frowned, mulling over his answer as he stood up to head to his own tent, and she found herself staring into the flames until they were little more than glowing embers. Only then did she return to her bed, but it was to more thought rather than rest.
It was evening, and a quiet one at that. She sat in her usual spot, on a log that had been dragged close to the fire, her arm lifted a bit as a Shaman tended to the nasty cut she’d received. Gerus sat nearby, finishing the last of his meal in silence, the rest of the Sunwalkers mending their armor, sharpening their weapons, or generally unwinding from the day’s fights.
“… my father was murdered in his home the night we had a big fight.” Philomena, or Mena as he and the others had taken to calling her, finally answered his question from the first night. She closed her eyes, shoulders dropping. “I don’t even remember the fight, but I was so angry I didn’t come home that night. I said some horrible things. I returned that morning, and found him with his throat slit ear to ear and his room ransacked. They even took the trinket he kept of my mother’s.” She opened her eyes once more, when the Shaman lowered her arm and packed her medicines. “I fight with anger because it’s all I have left.”
“You have his lessons and his words in your heart, I’m sure.” Gerus studied her, finally seeing her without the anger keeping her tense and wound up. “You’re a dedicated fighter, and I know he would be very proud of you.”
She shook her head with a sad smile. “My anger got him killed. I may as well have wielded the knife that cut his throat. If I’d stayed home, he would have lived. He was an old man, I could have fought off his attacker…” She closed her eyes, letting her head hang as she admitted her shame. “It’s my fault.”
“You’re going to drive yourself mad with that sort of thinking. You cannot blame yourself for the actions of another.” Gerus smiled gently, trying to reassure her. “Instead of fighting with anger and regret, you should fight in his memory. Did he teach you to fight?”
She nodded her head in answer, taking a sip from her waterskin. “Yes. He was already old when he and my mother had me, and he trained the young warriors in our tribe and for the surrounding tribes. He was the wisest bull I knew. He taught us to be tempered in our fighting, but I was cocky because I was good.”
“Then take that memory, the strength and respect for him, and use that to fuel you when you fight. You will find it a more readily available source than anger.” He stretched his back a bit. “If you were Sunwalker, I would tell you to look to An’she, and let him guide you. I suppose it’s good advice for a Warrior, too. If you find the anger rising, meditate to An’she and you’ll learn to calm yourself.”
She frowned, mulling over his answer as he stood up to head to his own tent, and she found herself staring into the flames until they were little more than glowing embers. Only then did she return to her bed, but it was to more thought rather than rest.
Re: Of Lessons Past
[[ Very interesting! ]]
18:41:20 [Lilliana-TwistingNether]: I don't know how to play the game, just rp.
21:31:21 [Ulrezaj-TwistingNether]: What are we without the bw?
Re: Of Lessons Past
“Teach me that hammer move. The one where you make that light-hammer-thing.” Mena had cornered Gerus as soon as he’d awakened that morning, and she seemed to be set in her decision to try and learn how he and his Sunwalkers fought. Gerus had been a little off guard from the request, but there was a sort of iron will in her eyes that he couldn’t turn away. Maybe this Warrior running on rage could be trained to put her energy into more productive tasks.
“You have to channel An’she to make it work. “ He summed it up as simply as he could for her, though he’d certainly seen other Tauren become Sunwalkers. “But… if you’re truly set on it, then I will teach you what I can. But don’t be discouraged if you don’t have the aptitude for it.”
“I can do anything.” Mena tossed her mane with an air of almost arrogance and a smirk on her face. She didn’t see the frown on his, or the incoming leg sweep that knocked her back onto her rump with a startled grunt. She glared up at him defiantly, though seeing his darkened mood certainly made her hold her tongue.
“The first step is humility. You are no better than the soldiers you fight alongside. When one falls, you all fall, and you need to know how to pick up their slack and solidify your unit. You can’t do that if you’re so cocky that your nose is in the air and blinding you to the situation around you.” His tone was harsh, making sure she was paying attention. Satisfied that he’d made his point, he offered a hand to pull her back to her hooves. “Support those you fight alongside instead of looking for reasons to fight. We’ve enough enemies to fight without turning on each other. Now, pick up your shield and sword. We’ll see how quickly you learn.”
That lesson was only the first of many, and nearly every day she practiced, not just with Gerus but with Tarn, Calen, Golt and Nehu as well. After long days of battles against the Scourge, gaining and losing ground, pushing forward and falling back, she’d still practice what they taught her until she literally couldn’t move any more. The weeks seemed to blend together, but there was a transformation happening. Mena was working to hold her temper in check, relying not on it but her inner will and strength and her growing trust that An’she would see her through each battle. She was almost a pleasure to be around now, though she was frequently quiet, choosing her words before she reacted to things that would normally set her off. She still didn’t play well with the Alliance side of the Argent Crusade, but it was something that Gerus decided could be addressed later.
Philomena found herself greatly at ease around the small band of Sunwalkers, with most of them becoming brothers to her and Gerus an almost father figure. Even with this war going on, this was the closest she could ever remember having a real family. She was learning from all of them, and when this war was over she knew she’d have all the free time she’d need to become a proper Sunwalker.
“You have to channel An’she to make it work. “ He summed it up as simply as he could for her, though he’d certainly seen other Tauren become Sunwalkers. “But… if you’re truly set on it, then I will teach you what I can. But don’t be discouraged if you don’t have the aptitude for it.”
“I can do anything.” Mena tossed her mane with an air of almost arrogance and a smirk on her face. She didn’t see the frown on his, or the incoming leg sweep that knocked her back onto her rump with a startled grunt. She glared up at him defiantly, though seeing his darkened mood certainly made her hold her tongue.
“The first step is humility. You are no better than the soldiers you fight alongside. When one falls, you all fall, and you need to know how to pick up their slack and solidify your unit. You can’t do that if you’re so cocky that your nose is in the air and blinding you to the situation around you.” His tone was harsh, making sure she was paying attention. Satisfied that he’d made his point, he offered a hand to pull her back to her hooves. “Support those you fight alongside instead of looking for reasons to fight. We’ve enough enemies to fight without turning on each other. Now, pick up your shield and sword. We’ll see how quickly you learn.”
That lesson was only the first of many, and nearly every day she practiced, not just with Gerus but with Tarn, Calen, Golt and Nehu as well. After long days of battles against the Scourge, gaining and losing ground, pushing forward and falling back, she’d still practice what they taught her until she literally couldn’t move any more. The weeks seemed to blend together, but there was a transformation happening. Mena was working to hold her temper in check, relying not on it but her inner will and strength and her growing trust that An’she would see her through each battle. She was almost a pleasure to be around now, though she was frequently quiet, choosing her words before she reacted to things that would normally set her off. She still didn’t play well with the Alliance side of the Argent Crusade, but it was something that Gerus decided could be addressed later.
Philomena found herself greatly at ease around the small band of Sunwalkers, with most of them becoming brothers to her and Gerus an almost father figure. Even with this war going on, this was the closest she could ever remember having a real family. She was learning from all of them, and when this war was over she knew she’d have all the free time she’d need to become a proper Sunwalker.
Re: Of Lessons Past
It was a cold, miserably rainy day, but it was only one of many they had been facing lately. The mud was so thick that it sucked at their hooves and legs, even pulling the boots off of the smaller races, and that made the fighting all the more difficult. Lightning cracked overhead as they made their push into Icecrown, the snow just making the mud chilling to the bone. The band of Sunwalkers had split up, to assist where they could, but there was only so much they could do against the onslaught of ghouls that just kept coming.
It seemed like they would never have a chance to rest, and when it did come they all straggled back to where they’d set up camp to tend their wounds and repair their armor. Mena finally returned, seeing Golt working on Tarn’s badly wounded arm, and Nehu trying to repair his shield. She frowned, moving to sit near the fire to warm her freezing body up.
“Wh-where’s C-calen and G-g-gerus?” She chattered through shivering teeth, tugging off her gloves to warm her bared hands as she looked to the others.
“They haven’t come back yet. Be patient, they were closer to the front than we were, they’ll come back.” Nehu looked up from his shield, though the look he exchanged with the other two didn’t seem to agree with his words. Mena nodded, looking back to the fire. He was right, they’d come back. They’d come back from worse scraps than today, so of course they’d come back. They’d crack some wise-ass jokes, go over some of the day’s events before passing out in their beds. That’s how it always went.
They’d just finished adding wood to their fire when Calen came back, panting and drenched in mud. Mena was relieved to see him come back, but she looked around him, as if expecting Gerus to pop up behind him.
“He’s not coming, Philomena.” Calen grumbled the words, sitting down heavily near the fire. He looked at her, exhaustion, grief and guilt on his face. “He went down and I couldn’t get to him. He’d rip me a new one if I tried, anyway, and you know he would.”
“You… you left him? You just abandoned him out there?” Mena stood up, shouting at Calen. When Calen didn’t answer she snarled, feeling the urge to sock him in the eye, the rage she’d been so carefully controlling swelling to the surface. Instead, she grabbed her sword and shield. Golt scowled, grabbing her arm.
“You can’t go out there, Mena. You’re already worn to the bone and you know it’s too late.” He tried to get her to understand. “We’d be doing him no favors by getting ourselves killed looking for him.”
“Then what about all his talk, supporting the unit and helping them be strong? Was that all bullshit?” She looked around the group, her glare met with three guilty looks that weren’t held for long. She clenched her teeth, yanking her arm free of Golt’s grip. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I’m going find him.” She didn’t even bother to put her armor back on, she was so consumed with her goal of finding him, and she jogged back into the cold night.
It seemed like they would never have a chance to rest, and when it did come they all straggled back to where they’d set up camp to tend their wounds and repair their armor. Mena finally returned, seeing Golt working on Tarn’s badly wounded arm, and Nehu trying to repair his shield. She frowned, moving to sit near the fire to warm her freezing body up.
“Wh-where’s C-calen and G-g-gerus?” She chattered through shivering teeth, tugging off her gloves to warm her bared hands as she looked to the others.
“They haven’t come back yet. Be patient, they were closer to the front than we were, they’ll come back.” Nehu looked up from his shield, though the look he exchanged with the other two didn’t seem to agree with his words. Mena nodded, looking back to the fire. He was right, they’d come back. They’d come back from worse scraps than today, so of course they’d come back. They’d crack some wise-ass jokes, go over some of the day’s events before passing out in their beds. That’s how it always went.
They’d just finished adding wood to their fire when Calen came back, panting and drenched in mud. Mena was relieved to see him come back, but she looked around him, as if expecting Gerus to pop up behind him.
“He’s not coming, Philomena.” Calen grumbled the words, sitting down heavily near the fire. He looked at her, exhaustion, grief and guilt on his face. “He went down and I couldn’t get to him. He’d rip me a new one if I tried, anyway, and you know he would.”
“You… you left him? You just abandoned him out there?” Mena stood up, shouting at Calen. When Calen didn’t answer she snarled, feeling the urge to sock him in the eye, the rage she’d been so carefully controlling swelling to the surface. Instead, she grabbed her sword and shield. Golt scowled, grabbing her arm.
“You can’t go out there, Mena. You’re already worn to the bone and you know it’s too late.” He tried to get her to understand. “We’d be doing him no favors by getting ourselves killed looking for him.”
“Then what about all his talk, supporting the unit and helping them be strong? Was that all bullshit?” She looked around the group, her glare met with three guilty looks that weren’t held for long. She clenched her teeth, yanking her arm free of Golt’s grip. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I’m going find him.” She didn’t even bother to put her armor back on, she was so consumed with her goal of finding him, and she jogged back into the cold night.
Re: Of Lessons Past
It took her some time to find where the front had been, or where the bulk of the fighting had been, and she looked around for any sort of sign of him. Bodies had already been dragged off, fueling the rumors that they were being used to make new undead soldiers to fight for the Lich King. It scared her, and made her work faster to try and find some clue of him.
“Gerus??” She called out against the thunder, knowing there was a chance that she would draw attention to herself. There were so many corpses still, and parts of corpses that it was hard to walk anywhere without nearly stepping on one. Her heart jumped up in her throat when she felt something cold and slimy try to grip at one of her hooves, and she almost screamed in surprise. There was definitely a hand moving slowly against the mud, an arm and shoulder visible from under what looked like some half of an abomination. She knelt down and began to dig, moving as much muck as she could to try and identify who was still alive. The familiar crest on the shoulderplate made her want to cry in relief as she realized she’d found Gerus, and he was alive.
“Hang on, just hang in there, alright? I’ll get this thing off you and we’ll get back to camp.” She tried to reassure him, not hearing any sort of verbal reply and not noticing his hand had gone still. She slipped around in the mud, trying to find some way to leverage the dead hulk of flesh and bone off of him. Lightning cracked overhead, briefly illuminating the ground as she worked and providing her with enough of a glimpse of what she was dealing with. She braced herself and managed to work the hulking monstrosity off of him, and she was immediately kneeling in the mud again, checking on him.
“I’m gonna get you home, I promise. Stay with me.” He was bigger than she was, easily a hundred and fifty pounds heavier, but she was determined to support him. She half crawled underneath him, grabbing his arm over her shoulders and beginning to stand up, pulling him up with her with a grunt of effort. The mud she’d dug away was slowly seeping back into the pit he’d occupied, causing her to slip a little. She tightened her grip, and took first one shaky step, then another, testing the ground before putting her weight into the movement. She couldn’t feel his breath despite his head against hers, but she could feel the warm blood running down her neck and back from what could only be a massive wound in his chest. So long as he was warm, he was alive. She refused to consider anything else.
It was agonizingly slow, trying to carry him through the mud, and when the skies opened and poured down more icy rain it proved to be insurmountable. She slipped and fell, panting with effort as the cold air stung her lungs like thousands of needles. She’d made it a good distance, from what little she could see, but she wasn’t sure she could carry him the rest of the way. She frowned, beginning to channel her energy into the best healing spell that she could manage, yet all it could do was knit together a few small scratches.
“Argh… of course I can’t heal, that was stupid to try.” She grumbled to herself, hating herself for putting off the idea of healing in favor of fighting. “Some Sunwalker I turned out to be…” She reached for his belt, trying to grab anything that would work as proof to the others that she’d found him. When she found the piece of shield still attached to his back, she grabbed it. “I’m going get Nehu and Golt, okay? We’re coming back for you, I swear it.” She leaned down close to his ear so he could hear her, her cheek brushing against the three notches in his horn. “I’m not letting you die out here. Just… keep focusing on breathing alright?” She did her best to make sure he was shielded from the rain, propping her shield up over his head and piling some debris under his cheek to keep his mouth and nose clear of the mud before sprinting back to camp as fast as her tired legs could carry her.
Some time later, she finally returned with Golt and Nehu in tow. They had argued with her, at first thinking the blood soaking her was her own. After some yelling they finally conceded and went with her, not certain of what to expect. Mena picked her way through the slick landscape, then stopped. There was her shield, but…
“He… he’s gone. He couldn’t walk, I left him here, it was safe.” She looked around with wide eyes, unable to imagine that Gerus had simply gotten up and walked off. She looked to the two Sunwalkers. “I swear on An’she he was here! He was alive!”
The two glanced around, Nehu lifting his lantern enough to see the ground around them, then pointed out tracks- dragmarks. He sighed and turned to the young Sunwalker.
“He’s gone, Philomena. They probably followed you and waited until you left his body to take it.” He hated saying it, hated the implication behind it. He shook his head, then motioned for her to pick up her shield. “We can’t do anything but go back to camp.”
“But... he was here.” She couldn’t comprehend Nehu’s words, but found herself accepting her shield from Golt. “We… I tried…I couldn’t leave him.” Her shoulders were slumped in defeat, the reality sinking in that she hadn’t helped him at all.
The walk back was quiet save for the squelching sound of mud against their hooves, and she couldn’t bring herself to look any of her companions in the eyes as she sat down in front of the fire. They tried to reassure her, she’d been noble in trying to save him, that she had good intentions. She closed her eyes, unable to hear anything but Nehu’s words over and over.
“He’s gone…”
“Gerus??” She called out against the thunder, knowing there was a chance that she would draw attention to herself. There were so many corpses still, and parts of corpses that it was hard to walk anywhere without nearly stepping on one. Her heart jumped up in her throat when she felt something cold and slimy try to grip at one of her hooves, and she almost screamed in surprise. There was definitely a hand moving slowly against the mud, an arm and shoulder visible from under what looked like some half of an abomination. She knelt down and began to dig, moving as much muck as she could to try and identify who was still alive. The familiar crest on the shoulderplate made her want to cry in relief as she realized she’d found Gerus, and he was alive.
“Hang on, just hang in there, alright? I’ll get this thing off you and we’ll get back to camp.” She tried to reassure him, not hearing any sort of verbal reply and not noticing his hand had gone still. She slipped around in the mud, trying to find some way to leverage the dead hulk of flesh and bone off of him. Lightning cracked overhead, briefly illuminating the ground as she worked and providing her with enough of a glimpse of what she was dealing with. She braced herself and managed to work the hulking monstrosity off of him, and she was immediately kneeling in the mud again, checking on him.
“I’m gonna get you home, I promise. Stay with me.” He was bigger than she was, easily a hundred and fifty pounds heavier, but she was determined to support him. She half crawled underneath him, grabbing his arm over her shoulders and beginning to stand up, pulling him up with her with a grunt of effort. The mud she’d dug away was slowly seeping back into the pit he’d occupied, causing her to slip a little. She tightened her grip, and took first one shaky step, then another, testing the ground before putting her weight into the movement. She couldn’t feel his breath despite his head against hers, but she could feel the warm blood running down her neck and back from what could only be a massive wound in his chest. So long as he was warm, he was alive. She refused to consider anything else.
It was agonizingly slow, trying to carry him through the mud, and when the skies opened and poured down more icy rain it proved to be insurmountable. She slipped and fell, panting with effort as the cold air stung her lungs like thousands of needles. She’d made it a good distance, from what little she could see, but she wasn’t sure she could carry him the rest of the way. She frowned, beginning to channel her energy into the best healing spell that she could manage, yet all it could do was knit together a few small scratches.
“Argh… of course I can’t heal, that was stupid to try.” She grumbled to herself, hating herself for putting off the idea of healing in favor of fighting. “Some Sunwalker I turned out to be…” She reached for his belt, trying to grab anything that would work as proof to the others that she’d found him. When she found the piece of shield still attached to his back, she grabbed it. “I’m going get Nehu and Golt, okay? We’re coming back for you, I swear it.” She leaned down close to his ear so he could hear her, her cheek brushing against the three notches in his horn. “I’m not letting you die out here. Just… keep focusing on breathing alright?” She did her best to make sure he was shielded from the rain, propping her shield up over his head and piling some debris under his cheek to keep his mouth and nose clear of the mud before sprinting back to camp as fast as her tired legs could carry her.
Some time later, she finally returned with Golt and Nehu in tow. They had argued with her, at first thinking the blood soaking her was her own. After some yelling they finally conceded and went with her, not certain of what to expect. Mena picked her way through the slick landscape, then stopped. There was her shield, but…
“He… he’s gone. He couldn’t walk, I left him here, it was safe.” She looked around with wide eyes, unable to imagine that Gerus had simply gotten up and walked off. She looked to the two Sunwalkers. “I swear on An’she he was here! He was alive!”
The two glanced around, Nehu lifting his lantern enough to see the ground around them, then pointed out tracks- dragmarks. He sighed and turned to the young Sunwalker.
“He’s gone, Philomena. They probably followed you and waited until you left his body to take it.” He hated saying it, hated the implication behind it. He shook his head, then motioned for her to pick up her shield. “We can’t do anything but go back to camp.”
“But... he was here.” She couldn’t comprehend Nehu’s words, but found herself accepting her shield from Golt. “We… I tried…I couldn’t leave him.” Her shoulders were slumped in defeat, the reality sinking in that she hadn’t helped him at all.
The walk back was quiet save for the squelching sound of mud against their hooves, and she couldn’t bring herself to look any of her companions in the eyes as she sat down in front of the fire. They tried to reassure her, she’d been noble in trying to save him, that she had good intentions. She closed her eyes, unable to hear anything but Nehu’s words over and over.
“He’s gone…”