The cracking in the air told of the coming frost. You could almost see it in the air. It would get very cold, soon. Hans pulled his cloak around him tighter and tried to slow his breathing. Focus. In and out. In. Then, out. Slowly, now. He closed his eyes and tried some more.
In, then...out.
"You're safe here, kid. There's no reason to go about it the way you're going about. The Recon Unit will find your carts. They'll find the wolves too, and kill them, so you can stop pissing yourself."
Hans barely looked at the officer. That was the same thing the last unit said.
"It's amazing you made it out though," another soldier, younger, approached him. "You, all by yourself? No one else either. Not even anyone of those good soldiers from the post."
"Stop it, Gemmel."
Hans looked back and forth between them. He didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know how he got out. Running, screaming, wiping the tears from his face as he charged through the wood was all he did. He dind't even stop once to look back. He just ran.
"Sir, with respect, how do we know he isn't a new trick of the Ents? How do we know he didn't up the unit on post? Lisa was out there with them. We know they were all well trained, good sol-."
"Gemmel! I said stop it!" The officer grabbed his soldier by the neck of his hood and lowered his voice. "We are all afraid out here, do you get it? We're all scared. Everyone that's out here lost someone. You don't get any more special privilege than the rest of us. Now get back to whatever it was you were doing."
Hans quivered. There was no way they were safe here. he looked around at the rag-tag group that had stopped him in his rout. Most of the soldiers here were tired, young, dirty. Their boots were encrusted with mud and blood. Their once glistening red hoods were tattered and dull. And fear, the clinging, paralyzing fear was in each and every one of their eyes.To anyone else, they looked nothing like heroes. To Hans, all they needed was a human face to look like saviors sent from God himself.
But Hans felt that God had left them this evening.
"SIR! HORSES APPROACHING!"
The call seemed to snap everyone out of the haze. The officer turned toward the treeline. "Who is it? The Recon Team?"
The rest happened so quickly, as if a blur in a bad dream. Three horses galloped into sight, sweat making them look as if they were glowing. They tore through the camp, one after another. The last horse was dragging a lead line behind it. Attached to the line was what looked like the bottom half of a person.
Time ceased. Hans' eyes locked onto the torn legs, the smell of blood, the smell of sweat from the horses. The look of agonizing fear in their beady, big eyes.
Time continued again. The horses, just as fast as they had come were gone. The sound of their hooves were then replaced with a single, shrill howl that echoed off of every tree, every leaf, every sword in that camp.
That was all Hans needed. He did not hear the orders from the officer, He did not hear the compliance, sound of soldiers getting ready to do battle. He did not hear the sound of the swords, the bowstrings pulling back. He did not hear the cries, the screams, the shouts. He only heard the sound of running feet, and staggered breath that he knew to be his own.
Run, the voice of instinct said. Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunru-.
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