Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK II - Scene LXVII

The tempest had rattled the land - not as severely as it had rattled the sea, and the ships that had been wrecked upon it - but it had rendered quiet the war and the slaughter. Essen had hunkered down; cold and at its mercy. The forest cover a poor home for him, his compatriot, and the few others they'd picked up in their retreat. Now, finally, after a period of camouflage, they'd found a break from their misery. The light drizzle being like blazing sunlight compared to the previous weather. And further luck, they'd found a small boat, barely a rowboat, near the beachy coast, on the forest edge.

As Essen sat waiting for cover of night to leave the conquered land he felt a pang of defeat. A hard sense of guilt that he hadn't died trying to stop the fall. As he played with soil from the earth in his hands, anxious with boredom, a small colourful bird flew out at him from the trees - red, grey, green and black. Like a pretty apple in the dewy air. Startled at his sight it quickly darted back into the green hush of leaves. As it disappeared one of the shivering men suggested they should start a fire - the cusp of evening bringing the threat of harsher cold - but the danger they would be spotted was too great a fear. Essen looked down towards his sword and felt his heart beat in the silence. In just a few hours they would be out on the sea, and heading back to Brynnyfirdia.