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“You got careless,” Salen whispered, his voice rattling around inside her clouded mind. With some effort, she prevented herself from snapping back at him. She didn’t need another reminder of her failure. For what seemed like the hundredth time, she looked down at her left arm, which was pressed tightly against her gut struggling in vain to keep all of her insides where they belonged. She didn’t have time to constantly check the wound, but somehow, her eyes continued to drift there.
“Focus,” he said. “It’s not too late. The Jen I know wouldn’t lie down here and quit. Take a deep breath.” Breathing was a luxury now, however, and her ruined lungs protested against the difficult work, causing her to drop to her knees, coughing and spitting steaming blood onto the cool forest floor. “There now, isn’t that better?”
Of course, it wasn’t, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. It was so difficult to see. The forest was already dark and the swirling mist – or was that her blood loss – prevented her from seeing much more than what was directly in front of her. She could hear them behind her, seeking her in the dark woods, calling to each other with horrible crackling howls.
“Salen,” she asked wordlessly, “Where is the orc? Can you still see him?” She knew the question was pointless, but the conversation gave her mind something to focus on beyond the pain and the growing desire to lie down (for just a moment, of course).
“Remember,” he said, “it’s all about concentration. Don’t get distracted, even for a second. That’s how scouts die.”
She concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. Years of practice allowed her to move silently through the brush of the forest floor; her shallow breathing the only sound that marked her passage. Not that it mattered. The goblins didn’t need to hear her. Her dripping blood cast a reeking trail any beast could follow.
She crept along, her eyes focused only on the trail ahead, step by step she moved closer to the far border, the Legion camp that offered safety. But they were gaining. The howling grew louder and she could begin to make out a few of the words. None of them were pleasant. At least, not for her.
A few steps more. So far yet to go. “Better to die a warrior’s death than to be cut down hiding in a hole like some rabbit,” he said, sounding so much further away now. She couldn’t prevent a sob hearing those words again, not now, even if they were only a figment of her memory come to torment her.
Drawing on her last reserves of strength, she knelt in the darkness, ready to take as many of her pursers with her as possible. Soundlessly, she pulled two vials of a sticky, red liquid from her pack and rested her free thumb on the stoppers and lay down on the rocky ground.
Seconds passed like hours in the gloom, but soon she could hear the thudding steps of the goblins as they came near, their howling voices silent now that the hunt was drawing to a close. With a shout of triumph, the first one saw her crumpled form and the party moved closer. “Thanks Altherion,” she thought to herself as she uncorked the vials and wordlessly flung them into the advancing horde.
With a titanic whoosh that sounded nothing so much like the thunder of a lightning bolt striking a nearby tree, the goblins burst into flame.
“For Arvoreen!” she shouted as she leapt to her feet and charged into the shrieking mass.
That orc is still out there. The strange one with the scar. And now, I’ve forgotten all about him. Pity.
“Focus,” he said. “It’s not too late. The Jen I know wouldn’t lie down here and quit. Take a deep breath.” Breathing was a luxury now, however, and her ruined lungs protested against the difficult work, causing her to drop to her knees, coughing and spitting steaming blood onto the cool forest floor. “There now, isn’t that better?”
Of course, it wasn’t, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. It was so difficult to see. The forest was already dark and the swirling mist – or was that her blood loss – prevented her from seeing much more than what was directly in front of her. She could hear them behind her, seeking her in the dark woods, calling to each other with horrible crackling howls.
“Salen,” she asked wordlessly, “Where is the orc? Can you still see him?” She knew the question was pointless, but the conversation gave her mind something to focus on beyond the pain and the growing desire to lie down (for just a moment, of course).
“Remember,” he said, “it’s all about concentration. Don’t get distracted, even for a second. That’s how scouts die.”
She concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. Years of practice allowed her to move silently through the brush of the forest floor; her shallow breathing the only sound that marked her passage. Not that it mattered. The goblins didn’t need to hear her. Her dripping blood cast a reeking trail any beast could follow.
She crept along, her eyes focused only on the trail ahead, step by step she moved closer to the far border, the Legion camp that offered safety. But they were gaining. The howling grew louder and she could begin to make out a few of the words. None of them were pleasant. At least, not for her.
A few steps more. So far yet to go. “Better to die a warrior’s death than to be cut down hiding in a hole like some rabbit,” he said, sounding so much further away now. She couldn’t prevent a sob hearing those words again, not now, even if they were only a figment of her memory come to torment her.
Drawing on her last reserves of strength, she knelt in the darkness, ready to take as many of her pursers with her as possible. Soundlessly, she pulled two vials of a sticky, red liquid from her pack and rested her free thumb on the stoppers and lay down on the rocky ground.
Seconds passed like hours in the gloom, but soon she could hear the thudding steps of the goblins as they came near, their howling voices silent now that the hunt was drawing to a close. With a shout of triumph, the first one saw her crumpled form and the party moved closer. “Thanks Altherion,” she thought to herself as she uncorked the vials and wordlessly flung them into the advancing horde.
With a titanic whoosh that sounded nothing so much like the thunder of a lightning bolt striking a nearby tree, the goblins burst into flame.
“For Arvoreen!” she shouted as she leapt to her feet and charged into the shrieking mass.
That orc is still out there. The strange one with the scar. And now, I’ve forgotten all about him. Pity.