Completed [The Bronze Woods] Rebirth in Fire

[Fallon]

56th Fall 513 AV

It was within the shadows that she stood, cold, staring, features covered in flecks of blood. The cold of the night was kept at bay, the beating of the blood and the heart stirring within to keep such fears at bay. Teeth were bared for a moment, a wolfish smile before they dipped behind lips. The head turned as she stalked through, a growling hiss escaping. She needed to find balance, she needed to find control. To rule upon pure anger and blood lust would achieve nothing. Allow them the opportunity to repent, to run away and escape, grant them at least that opportunity.

That flicker of mercy.

Those that had contained her had scattered in an attempt to hunt her down, not to imprison her once more, but for revenge. She had taken one of their own in her escape, a blooded mess and a gurgled scream escaping as he was bested by a woman. But that was now in the near past, there was no point looking back at it now. There was a crunch of leaves beneath her feet, the distinct smell of smoke upon the air. Voices were raised within the dark of the night as the man hunt was initiated. Or perhaps it started a long time before – she did not know, nor did she particular care right now. Her form slunk between the shadows, quiet steps within the dark. Eyes peered into the black, but that did not stop her. Not yet at least.

Orvin prowled between, their forms weaving in and out of shadow as they begun their hunt. Nostrils flared, a distinct taste forming in her mouth. They would kill her if she stayed. They would kill her if she ran. There was no choice but to fight.

A plume of air escaped, the cold and hot meeting for a tick. Before once more she ducked into darkness. She heard the shout of one of them nearby – Fatty by the sound of things. Her hand went to the Kukri, a slow careful drawing of it as she ducked into the undergrowth. Her form was low, shoulders swaying to and fro in the darkness, the luring glow of the torch light illuminating him in the darkness. The growl reverberated through, eyes burning with a gentle turn of the Kukri in her hand. There was a gentle step, her form dropping behind the fauna, her eyes catching the light for a brief moment. Fatty gave a spin round, a momentary pause as he looked. His blade was drawn, his eyes wide with a sense of terror.

She hunted him onwards, teeth baring once more. A call of the hunt filled her mind. A twig snapped beneath her foot, with Fatty turning round in response. He looked upon her blooded features with fear, the skin growing pale. He raised an alarm, no sign of surrendering in his call.

”SHYKE! It’s the wilding!” She pounced him the moment he shouted. The blade cut through the air, keen, sharp and biting. There was no hesitation, only a lack of skill as it came round. The tip pierced through, a scream cutting through the air, and a solid hand grasping onto the hilt as she roughly held it in place. Her other hand came swinging round, jolting to his throat. Knees pressing into him she felt the entire force of Fatty be thrown back onto the earth, the burning torch being thrown into the air and pattering to the ground a distance away still burning. The Kukri came out, a firm hard pull, the gurgled scream falling onto death ears before it plunged down once more in the same repetitive movement.

[Fallon]

Shouts of the men echoed out around her, the response to the cry from Fatty. She gave a tug upon the kukri, both hands grasping tightly upon the hilt as she wiggled it loose. Eyes stared on into the darkness, the glowing of flames hovering above the foliage as they made their approach. She gave only a final look down to the body of Fatty, his life blood upon her hands and blade, before once more she ducked into the undergrowth and out of sight. Her feet picked up the earth, the thorns and branches caressing her skin as she went on through. She could taste smoke on the air, the faint lingering of fire upon the wind.

There was a crackle in the air, the branches of the undergrowth smoking on the autumn air. She slinked on through, ears twitching, head turning to the cry of voices. The body was discovered, but just as soon as it had done they scattered once more. Knuckles pressed against the earth, her form down in a low crouch as she scurried along. The kukri was wrapped tightly in her hand, white knuckles blooded with that of others. She licked at her lips, her shoulders rolling as she picked up again. Her arms came together, protecting her face as she leapt on through the undergrowth. There was a roll, her back picking up the dirt as she caught sight of her next target. Speed was of the essence, the timing of the strike. She had to be faster than them. Swifter, stronger, better.

She sprung up from her roll, her footing returning to her. The grip tightened, legs coiling up before once more she pounced at one of the bandits. The pair tumbled into darkness, both interlocked. There was a shout of distress, the torch being flung into the air. A flurry of movements, hands writhing and grasping. She felt the fingers clamp around her throat, the palm tightening across the pipe. The air begun to thin, the pain grasping at her. Her fingers grasped at his, desperately trying to pry them off whilst he fumbled for his own blade. She gave a raise of the foot, trying to put in some leverage between him and her. She gave a choke her armed fist swinging out and slashing at his limb. He gave a howl, fingers releasing and recoiling. Sucking in the air, she gave a gasp, her foot kicking him away. There was a scrabble, the bandit reaching for his dagger and lunging at her.

The edges grinded against each other. Earth, blood, sweat and smoke filled the air. The trees gave a groan as the anarchy broke loose below. She gave a snap when the dagger scrapped past her arm, her life blood seeping forth. The arm recoiled back, the kukri bouncing off. She gave a roll, forcing herself on top. There was no words as the kukri gave a second slice, just the bearing of fangs. Orvin leapt upon him after that mauling at his dagger arm between his jaws. There was no scream when the bandit died, no final words or noise. Just the dulled beat in the air and the calling of his comrades. Her chest rose and fell for a moment, her arm reaching round for the sheath.

Rolling off, her back kissed the cool ground, a swallow as she caught her breath. Three of them had been eliminated, meaning that there was four left to contend with. She gave only a glance to the corpse next to her, a moment of regard as Orvin finished the man off with ease. Both were running on the primal urges, the deep instinct turning and rolling over from within. There was the nuzzle upon her cheek, the rough tongue of the wolf. She gave a whine in response, hand reaching up to knot into his matted fur. Her face pressed only briefly into his neckline, before she slid away back onto her haunches.

[Fallon]

Smoke rested on the air, the autumn winds carrying it northwards. She gave a turn of the head, eyes turning to the south as it grew thicker and stronger, the great plumes reaching up into the sky. A grey that marred the black of the night. She cocked her head to one side, eyes narrowing, ears catching the distinct crackle of flames upon the air.
”Smoke her out! Smoke that little bitch out!” came the shout. They were burning the forest. They were burning the flora, the mighty great bronze trees.
”Petch?” It came more out as a barely audible growl. Why were they so bent on getting her? Was revenge such a true driver? But they were killing the woods; they were destroying for no reason. She felt her blood boil. It was wrong. Even she knew it was. Was she such important game to induce the wrath of perhaps something much more?

For a tick, she was torn, caught between what she should do next. Part of her wanted to bolt, the instinctual state that any animal could feel rising up. Courage, passion, the lust to do the right thing, the distinct want to stand up and fight no matter the cost. Her brow creased, her face catching the flicker of orange and red between the trees. Her eyes turned to the branches, teeth bared, her dulled pulse rising up. The heart gave a twist, eyes scanning the scene. It tore at her to say the least, the secrets to be lapped up in the flames and smoke, with pointless destruction. A sign – to her at least - that it would indeed go out of control. So much knowledge, so many secrets, so much life, tossed aside in a single moment of greed.

Seemed like humans had finally shown their true colours.

A rumble escaped, a step closer towards the smoke. They wanted to smoke her out like an animal. Then it was an animal they were going to get.

Their shapes danced before the flames, the crackle turning into a roar. The dulled beat of nature screaming out in fear. The tendril of smoke grasped her, filling her lungs, before finally she stooped down. Orvin had ducked away again, the wolf form being lost into the undergrowth. And perhaps that was for the better, she was about to stick her head into the proverbial lion’s mouth. The rumble became a growl, cracked lips parting, the drying blood flaking from her face. She heard the shout from one, her presence acknowledged as she stalked through the dark undergrowth. The axe came down, slicing cleanly through the thin branches of the bushes, her entire form sent on swinging herself back. She felt the bark behind her, a crumpling of her form as she watched the shadow loom above. She shook her head, and sharply ducked when the axe swung its way above her. Ducking she weaved out from beneath, hand clawing at the hilt of the tulwar as she passed on by. There was a thud when the axe head wedged into the tree behind, the scrawny bandit looking back in anger. She brought the blade out, her more confident weapon now in her grasp. Steel sung through the air, the tip thrusting forward and hovering before him. His hands however were working on pulling the axe free.

”You little…” he sneered back, ”You murderer, you monster!”
Eyes stared upon him, a firm prod of the tip onto his chest. Her breast rose, nostrils flaring as she stared into his eyes. Words would not come to her, the usual mannerisms having been replaced by older, deeper ones. Her lip twitched, a feral look having formed in her eyes. The wood cracked, the axe coming free. Staggering back the bandit looked upon her, a testing swing from the axe, ”What are you trying to achieve squire? The justice of the knights? The honourable way of the order? To put down a few bandits to receive a few pats on the head?” he spat, ”You’re all the same, you petching order dwelle-“
A hiss escaped her lips, ”It is not the justice of the order.”

[Fallon]

Steel grinded against steel, a clink of metal as she circled him. Feet moved gently upon the ground, the heat and sound of fire growing louder in her ears, ”It is for my freedom. It is for my life. It is for the courage within to stand up and fight. You came for me. You came at me with all your intent of violence. You wanted my lif-“
“You took one of ours!”
“Because you came to take mine. And now you are on a man hunt to take mine still! A wild blood call destroying all within your path,” She gave a step in close, eyes sharp and piercing at him, ”You are burning the woods for your own built greed. You wipe away balance…” she shook her head, the low guttural tone escaping. There was no warmth there, no thought on civilisation, ”You. You humans destroy the domain of Caiyha’s for your own self greed!”
The axe head came swinging round, hooking round and pulling onto the tulwar. She was dragged forward, and met a swift back hand across the face. Spitting out a mouthful of blood she glared, ”You have no sense! You have no understanding of waste! No respect! You are the monsters!”
“Hold your tongue wildling!”

Wilding. How apt. It’s where you feel most at peace, no?

The pulse rose, the anger swift and without mercy. Were they still seeking a fight? She slipped the blade away, rising up onto her toes. She threw herself at him, hilt first, blade second. There was a crunch as the pair met, struggling over power once more. Feet dug in, the keen edges meeting each other once more. Fallon threw her weight against the tulwar, putting all of her strength into it. She shoved the bandit back, edges clattering together as breathing space was once more made between them. Not that it lasted long. The audience of trees watched, absorbing the rings into the air. There was a slip, a moment of exploitation. The tulwar darted forward a full thrust towards the exposed belly. Her hand cupped the disk pommel, extra force and momentum pushing behind it. There was a thud, followed by deep gasp. Fingers pried at her face, a quick step back as she grasped the tulwar and worked it out.

Nostrils flared as she looked down upon him, her brow creasing. There was only a shake of the head, a moment of distinct bitterness. Kill or be killed. That was the law of the wilds, even she knew that. It did not make it any easier for her though. Pushing him away, she watched him drop, the deep rattling breaths as the body went into shock. Bodies were such fragile things without armour, but the strength they could produce was phenomenal. She placed a hand over his eyes, closing them to the world. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, eyes turning to the other bandit who stood there, his form caught in the growing flame light. How quickly was it spreading? Were they trying to drive her into it now? To burn her alive? She noted the arrow tip glinting in the light, the shaking of limbs as he pinned her to the spot. Her hand tightly moved around the hilt, a firm grip of it and then sliding away from the corpse. She felt the smoke rush past her, the archer facing into it. And for a long chime she regarded him with sombre eyes.

[Fallon]

”Is it true what you said Wilding?” he demanded.
She gave a snort, that turned into a howling laugh, ”Wilding, wildling… I never expected that name to come back and haunt me. After all these years…”
“Answer me!” came the scream.
Fallon stared at him, ”It is.”
“You’re a liar!” the voice trembled in the air. The arrow was loosened. Staggering to the side, she felt the tip imbed itself into her arm. A howl erupted, form doubling over and bent on one thing. Run. And if it was into the fire they wanted, then that was what they were going to get. She dived into the shrubs, form low as another arrow went over head, the one that had caught her still judgingly in her arm. It was something she would have to deal with first.

She scrambled down in deep between the vegetation and crouched down. The protrusion stung, sore and sharp within her flesh. But she would have to remove it. She pushed the tulwar away into its scabbard, her brow knitting as she tried to figure out how to deal with it. Cheeks puffing she considered just pulling it out. The arm tensed at that thought, the raw adrenal seeping off as she grasped it tightly. One swift movement was all she needed. Her mind gave a spin, her brow knitting together as she remained holed up in her position. She gave a wince, a gentle count under her breath to three.

A gasp met her lips, followed by a cry. Face creasing; her head sunk the arrow being thrown to one side. Eyes stung as she looked onto the blooming dark spot that begun to emerge. Her fist slammed against the earth in annoyance, a low grunt falling out. Wriggling her arm out of her shirt and coat sleeve she reached the exposed wound on her left. She ripped at her shirt sleeve, pulling it away sharply she ripped down the seam. There was a wince as she slapped the remains of the cotton sleeve onto her arm. Her chest heaved; her head leaning back as she tried to keep her guard up. Tending to it properly would have to wait, for now she would simply have to work on protecting it and stopping the bleeding. When she got back, she would stagger in and see a healer. If she got back.

She pulled the fabric across her forearm, tightly securing it in place as best she could. She gave a spit, her free hand pulling back the coat sleeve the best she could. It would have to do for now, she would have to work the best she could through the pain of it. She watched the footsteps go charging past. Her hunters were still searching. She looked to the south, the blanket of red reaching up into the sky. It was time to move on. Rising up she gave a stagger out, her arm across her face to the wave of smoke and ash in the air. She gave a cough, her entire form dipping down low, her steps working on keeping light. She knew the archer was about, no doubt he was trying to make chase on her at present. The other two were still beyond her thoughts. But right now there was something else to worry about.

That fire. It had snuck close, the flames creeping along the low bushes and ensnaring them in heat. She gave a stagger back, her head turning to catch a shout on the air. She watched one of the others point to her in the gloom, his comrade nearby. There was no time to waste. She ran, legs straining, toes forced into pushing leaps. She felt the heat close in, the tiny sparks glide through the air. Peering through the rolling smoke she saw the source of the wild fire, branches and low grass aflame.

[Fallon]

Feet moved quicker, barely pressing against the hot earth as she ran, eyes barely looking to where she was going. She snagged up, her form tumbling down into a ditch, the smell of burning stronger than ever. Groaning she placed her hands beneath her, the entire form slumping to the side. She could not keep doing this, ducking in and out of the foliage, playing the underhand game and catching them off guard in their panicked states.

Eyes winced and teared up. Her fingers gripping onto a low branch to pull herself out of the mud. She needed to deal with them, and fast. Eyes turned to the crackle of flames, feeling the heat upon her skin. Petch, this was all wrong. All so wrong. She was supposed to sneak out, she was supposed to be able to get away without them knowing. But that had all gone wrong. Teeth gritted, her weaker arm reaching up to help aid her forward. And now, she had no choice but to stand up and fight. She had lost her chance to run away, all she could do now was do what was necessary survive. She hacked up the air, the howling of a wolf just beyond her grasp. Orvin was calling her, trying to find her among the mayhem. She could not call out though. Her throat was dry, her mind heated and fiery. There was no good to come of this at all. Could there?

The suffocating heat grasped at her, the forest alive and screaming out into the night. She looked to the glow, the autumn winds catching the flames in their grasp. Or at least for as long as possible. It was the beating of a club against her that sent her stumbling forward once more. The bludgeon to her shoulders. She gave a trip, her sleeve plastering against her. The heart begun to race once more, the taste of iron fixed within her mouth. Enough was enough, and as the raging flames closed in, she finally managed to overcome herself. Principles found themselves. The mad horror of the night in the summer being pushed aside but not forgotten. The moments when she was left trembling in fear no matter the cost. On times when she was too broken to stand up and last against the world. That same fear snagged at her very core, the deep resounding terror grasping at her.

She gave a stagger away, hands low, form hunched over. Or at least until the second beating club came her way. Her footing was lost, the raging fire behind her now. Arms splayed wide she was defenceless, no time to reach for a weapon as the club came once more. It caught her in the gut, the air escaping only for her lungs to suck in the ash. The back of her legs cracked into a burning branch, the flames licking at the fabric in a moment of notice. It was a final blow from the club that sent her teetering back over between the fire branches and to the ash ground below. Her mind spun, her form crippling to the intoxication, her back lying upon the ground. She pressed her elbow down, ripping her leg away from the burning branch. She gave a crawl, staggering up onto her knees. Was she going to die here? Was she finally going to fade from the world in a whimper?

No.

[Fallon]

It was said, that fire serves not only to destroy, but also to give life. Least that was some strange uttering that her mentor once mentioned. It gave forth energy and warmth. It burned away the ills of the flesh, cleansing wounds of the physical form. It offered reassurance in times of darkness, and comfort in times of need. So as Fallon, clawed at her senses. She found the spark within her, the worries and fears burning and crumbing away. The lacking wits, the bare capability of surviving, whilst wrapped in her own weaknesses and fears. It was her time to grow and to bloom. The old had been cast away, burned out, and purified. And it was from the ashes that she found herself once more.

A rebirth of the soul and heart.

How did it begin? It begun when the mind was sick of running. When it was detested with being weak. When the thoughts had been heated and tempered into a sharp unwavering point. By being able to stand up and throw down everything that she knew of herself. She breathed out the fumes, throat rattling, legs coming to life. It came when the soul had been cleansed, the acceptance of one’s past mistakes coming through. The poison had been cleansed from her, the stagnant fear that dwelled and existed within.

She sprung back through the fire, flames catching her coat, the ends of her hair smouldering as she leapt on through. There was a howl, kukri drawn, the look of horror as the form of the girl leapt at him. She tackled the bandit, rolling across the floor, smothering the flames as they tumbled. The coat was burned away, the hairs starting to singe at the ends. The skin had turned red and tender, but that was not her concern now. The kukri was brought down, a broad slash into him, whilst the hands wrestled over control. In the end, she threw her weight down on top of it, and left it impaled into him.

Her breath laboured, a gasp and a cough as she hacked out the polluted air. A shaky leg moved, her starved body demanding a fresh supply of oxygen. Limbs shaked, her arms trembling as he pulled the kukri free. Dragging herself forward she continued to cough, expelling the smoke. She gave a stagger, kukri once more returning. She continued to wretch however, her form crawling across the floor. Limbs objected and her mind wavered for a tick, the world dipping into a dark blur. Fingers grasped onto the cool earth, feet pressing up beneath her. Her coat was ruined for the most part, the burning edges extinguished in her tumble. She felt the sweat upon her brow, her crumpled form rising and raising up.

She released a hiss, eyes turning towards the horrified faces of the remaining two bandits. She sucked in the cold twilight air, back straightening, the glow of the fire blocking out the features on her face. The tulwar was drawn with grace, slow and careful. The silent challenge was given when the point was directed to the bandit. Hues of orange and red danced within the air, the mad fire having caught ablaze. Both feet met the ground, the steps gliding across the cool hard earth. Fluid and light she drifted, the tulwar held within her grasp. There was no rush, for time would catch up to them all. One of them – Mac most probably - gave an angry shout, venom filling his words, the broadsword being drawn in his moment of cold blood rage.

[Fallon]

The fire roared behind. It screamed through, its tongue licking up the trunk, grasping and clawing onto what it could. Steel glinted in the smoke, the keen edge ignited in the light. Her skin glistened, grit and sweat marring her face, a distinct shadow falling over her eyes. The lunge came, a broadsword clean and pointed. Her own blade, the tulwar, came whipping round. The grind of steel struck each other, the dulled tones barely audible above the sound of the flames. Above that was the howling wail of the wolf; a warning and mournful song.

The plume clawed up into the sky, catching the autumn winds. Sucking in the fresh her eyes turned to the other

There was a clatter, and a push. Feeling the book in her gut Fallon tumbled, the dry earth and the heat reaching her. She rolled to the side, toes bending, her form twisting to catch the blade of the bandit. The edges sung once more, her left arm coming from behind the inner curve. Both fought for dominance, legs digging in as pressure met. Teeth gritted, feet sliding back over the pure strength he had over her. The broadsword came swinging back, swinging low across her. She threw herself back again, clambering up to her feet. She had to go faster; she had to be stronger and better. But that was a difficult task against the obvious better – even if he was just a bandit. They were all just flesh at the end of the day.

The other came round, a flurry of daggers pushing her back. The tulwar met the daggers, steel grinding against steel once more, locking the pair together. Metal rickshaded off metal, the refusal to let herself be overwhelmed. It would end with her demise if she did. Backing off she eyed up her foes, the tip waving from side to side. Her breathing was still laboured, but she had to fight. It was the final battle, her final moment of breaking away. A growl trembled in the back of her throat, the steel being brought back only for a firm thrust towards her foe. Throwing her weight against it, she aimed for anywhere as long as it caused harm. There was a grunt of pain, the tip of the tulwar recoiling back as she ripped on past.

The broadsword met her at the other side. Forcing a duck she gave a weave, forcing her muscles to twist and contort round. Her left foot went behind her, the mind dipping once more. Nausea clawed its way up, the dizzying sensation playing upon her mind. She threw her weight onto her forward foot a spring forward with the tulwar keen against her. Her left arm rested behind the inner curve once more, the full force clattering against the steel. Her head however continued to go on. Clenching her jaw she head butted him, the dulled crack as their temples met. The pair staggered apart, one slightly more dazed than the other.

Fallon swung the tulwar once more, a swipe to push away the dagger user once more. A cry reached her ears, her other hand lashing out to grasp him tightly. Eyes burned, the fabric meeting steel before she simply pushed him away. Blooded donned the blade once more, a point blank target becoming hers for the taking. And so there was the last one. Cracked lips trembled, a wild look within her eyes. Her chest laboured, her mind spun as she eyed up her foe. She wetted her lips, gentle steps leading her forth.

[Fallon]

”You’re nuts! You’re petching….” it was the trembling voice of Mac that answered her, the quivering tones of uncertainty listing there. He was scared, the way his eyes quivered, the shaking of the arm, ”You killed… Why did you?” She looked upon him, the tulwar firm and steady in her grasp. She looked upon his gritted face, the burning gaze still in place, ”Why didn’t you just run! Why didn’t you just…”
She simply shook her head, a gentle leading step around him, before her free hand extended out and pointed to the raging fire. The flames begun to choke upon itself. Unable to gain a fresh supply of air in the billowing smoke. But the damage was done now. His eyes followed the hand round, the tip curving and eventually returning to point to her. Words were beyond her at present, communication simply having failed her short of a few definite points.
”You’re a wildling? Right? Oh petch!” She shook her head, a gentle circle round, the tulwar tip staring towards him. He looked torn, his courage having left him. His lips gave a tremble, the broadsword falling from his grip. There was a stagger away, weakness consuming his form. Her gave a cry of terror. No longer able to focus properly, before the mad wild run began.

She did not chase after him; it was not her place to. That was the job of the wilds to decide his fate now. Eyes followed after him for a while, and then lowered to her stained weapons. What a waste. What a shame. Turning her tired gaze upwards, she looked to the breaking sky, her brow creasing. There was so much to do still. Her body craved sustenance and strength. To collapse and to rest. Now was not the time, far from it was the occasion.

A cough escaped, limbs forced into moving as she lurched forward once more. Flames crackled in the chill, the trees having fallen silence. The world dipped into nothingness, a blur of black and shadows. She gave a choke, her shoulder slumping against the tree. Her eyes watched the fire a while, the damp leaves wilting and creating more smoke than flame by the passing chime. Her brow creased, her chest rose and fell. The singed ground marked it as a black spot, the dying remains having come and passed. She could not help but feel the weight of responsibility, the distinct bitterness of what had come. And it was only as the moon passed on over that she finally willed herself to leave. Soon the wilds would take the dead, the land would recover, and most importantly it would heal.

Pushing off she lead herself forth, feet walking in a daze. The world became a still dream, a walk through the darkness with her hands leading the way. She did not know when Orvin returned to her, but she felt his presence there, the low panting faint upon her ears. There was a stagger, hands struggling to grasp as she worked on through. Her foot gave beneath her, the filthy covered form collapsing beneath her. Her head hit the cool earth, the last of her strength sapped from her. She exhaled, a rattled breath escaping between her lips into the still of the night. No more. There was a long whine from Orvin, the nuzzle from the beast before he simply lay next to her. A weak hand reached out and knotted into his fur in response. Eyes turned to the inky black, a final glance to the heavens, before there was simply no more.

[Fallon]

The world turned into a blur after that. A distant white noise beyond her consciousness. Lips cracking and barely mumbling audible words. She remembered being pulled free from the ground, the grasp of tight hands upon her arms. The tilting of the head, and the pouring of cool liquid. There was gasping, and coughing, the distinct jostling and hooves upon the ground. There were a few glimmers caught within her sight, of steeled armour and glistening swords, of the angry, lecturing tone of a particular patron. And whilst she was caught in her own little world of sleep, did everything else carry on around her.

Her fingers gave a twitch, eyes cracking open. She heard her breathing, the dulled rise and fall of her chest. The rough blanket remained across her, the groan of floor boards beneath the feet catching in her ears. Fingers tapped the wool beneath her, the distinct feeling of wrappings around her arms and up to her digits. Exhaling she brought the scene into focus, her dulled aches finally coming into registration. Her hand slipped out from beneath the covers, pale skin exposed to the air. Below was Orvin, and although she could not see the creature she most certainly heard the whistling noise he made when he snored. Eyes gave a blink up, and her head turning away from the wall and out to the room.

The dormitories called her, her armour stripped free and hanging safely at the end of the bed, her weapons hanging along side. A sharp cough however snatched her attention away. Bleary eyed she looked for the source, her elbows shifting beneath to push her up. She caught the shape of her patron coming truly into focus as she stared. The judging eyes of her patron stared back, followed by the distinct shaking of her head.
”Sera Druva, I-“
“At ease Fallon. Lie back down.” There was a distinct sigh as the knight came over. For a while there was a long hard gave, scrutinizing before it eased off. She gave a crouch down next to the bed and clasped her hands together, ”So… Squire Fallon. What happened? You disappeared off the face of the earth for four days. No food, no supplies, only the means to protect yourself. We hear nothing of you, we find no trace nor sign of you. And then…” Natasha Druva shook her head, ”We found you, half dead. Covered in blood and dirt. Completely exhausted. Are you out of your mind squire!”

There was a flinch to the shout, followed by the ragged coughing that shortly followed. Fallon shook her head, gaze lowering, ”No Sera.”
“Then you better sure as well tell me what happened out there. Now. And why did you look like you had ran through a fire?”
Raising her gaze to meet her, Fallon forced her limbs to move and into life. She wanted to sit up, she needed to breath clearer. She licked her cracked lips, a tired gaze looking to her patron, ”You best get yourself comfy Sera. It’s going to be a long story.”