Day Four in Ivy Territory
Albin jerked his head up as Fritz found the group, already walking without him, trusting in his tracking instincts to find them.
“Yer a shit.” Albin threw a crossbow bolt at Fritz and pointed to a heavy ding in his armor. Arkh unconsciously rubbed an old wound.
The Elf picked up his bolt and shrugged. “Sorry.”
They walked. They kicked plants off their feet. They avoided the trees as best they could. They finally found a scattering of rocks. They sat, exhausted, and lay on the rocks. Albin took first watch through an unspoken understanding. Nameless would be next.
Nameless took a while to sleep. He rolled over, and several times, he would swear he was falling.
And then once, he fell into a dream. He felt it as if it was real, smelled the blood and grit his teeth as he was callously lacerated with knifelike limbs. He could feel the hopelessness. He could feel the loss.
Nameless woke screaming in the night, startling everyone awake. His eyes were wide with frenzy and restless anger – he needed an outlet. The beastman gripped his greatsword and roared at a massive oak tree nearest him. Fur bristling, he cut through the trunk in one tremendous swing. The crackling and destruction noises of an ancient tree laid to earth shook the camp and split the ears of everyone in the camp.
Nameless exhaled deeply, and leaned on his sword for support. He looked up. Behind the tree he had cleaved stood one single Fey. His expression was frozen in shock and fear. His stomach was torn wide open. The goat slammed the flat of his blade against the Fae’s head, and rendered him unconscious.
To Arkh, he said, “The first wound was an accident. The concussion is so he won’t be awake when he bleeds out.”
To the rest of the group, “I’ll take next watch. I will not be sleeping tonight.” He avoided any eyes that may have tried to meet with his, and sat on a rock, stoically gripping his greatsword.