Ciara awoke to the sound of morning birds, and the crackle of the fire. Morning dew hung heavy on the forest, its moisture could even be felt in the air. Ciara sat up and turned towards the fire. Alaster was gone, but the sword remained where it was the night before. Part of her wondered if Alaster knew what had happened last night. She disregarded the thought. No, he would have done something. The fire had also been refueled, the wood partially unburned. Maybe he did leave. She thought staring down at the flames with half open eyes as she put her knees to her chest resting her head on her forearms. A bit of sadness formed inside. She was actually starting to like him, as much as she wanted to deny it. “Morning” Her ears perked at the sound of the voice behind her. She turned around to see Alaster walking into the hollow, eating an apple and holding an extra one in his other hand. She gave him an apathetic look but was deep down content to see he hadn’t left.

        He tossed the other apple her way as he walked up.

“Get any sleep?” he asked.

Panic spread in Ciara’s mind He’s on to me! “Not much…” she managed to reply, internally tensing to fight.

Alaster shrugged “To bad…you’re going to need it.”

        Alaster reached down grabbing the sword off the ground. Ciara could feel her heart slamming in her chest. She placed a hand on the pommel of one of her daggers. This is it! Alaster swung the sword once one handed, shaking the morning dew off of it. “We have a long walk ahead of us.” Alaster said with a smile as he holstered the sword on his back.

        Ciara was dumbstruck with her mouth open. “What?” Alaster asked, giving her a funny look. Ciara collected herself, “Nothing! I’m just… impressed you can lift that sword so easily.”

        They broke eye contact “Oh-uh? It’s not that hard to lift.” His cheeks reddened just a bit. Alaster went to the drying rack and collected the meat from it. Placing half in his pouch, he gave Ciara the rest, along with a water bag. The sun had started to break above the mountains as Alaster put out the fire. He walked over to Ciara offering help up. “Ready?” he asked. She looked at his hand and then to him. This time, she took his proposal. Her chest still ached somewhat but overall she was fine. They walked into the forest together leaving the camp behind them.

        It wasn’t long before they past the carcass of the boar. The head of a fox popped up behind it, eyeing the two suspiciously. Alaster waved at it playfully. The fox hid behind the boar, then dashed away with as much meat as it could carry in its mouth. Alaster let out a light chuckle; Ciara didn’t see, or much care to notice the event. The yellow light of the morning sun broke through the trees. Soon the forest awoke with the sounds of life. Birds chirping with conversation, angry squirrels chittering at the two as they walked by their trees. One squirrel in particular had such bravery as to throw an acorn. It struck Ciara on the back of the head, in retaliation Ciara slung a throwing knife back with blinding speed. It cut the hair on the top of the squirrels head.

“You missed.” Alaster told her

“…No…I didn’t.” she said as she kept walking.

        Alaster looked again. He realized she had purposely hit its tail, pinning the fur with her knife. The squirrel chattered with anger as it tried to free itself. The noise coaxed a smirk from her otherwise stalwart face.

        “Where did you learn to fight like that?” Alaster asked, as he quickened his pace to catch up.

        “Here and there… it comes with the lifestyle.” She explained in a sigh. “What about you?” Ciara asked.

        “You know that old man I told you about? He’s the one who taught me how to fight.” Ciara closed her eyes shook her head.

        “I’m surprised he lived long enough to be called ‘old’.” She looked at the sword on Alaster’s back; gauging its magnitude. The handle started at the top of Alaster’s shoulders, stopping at the pommel almost a foot passed the top his head. The blade almost reached to his ankles. The swords thickness was about an inch; but the width was the more startling. At a foot wide, it not only had crushing weight, but it could easily double as a shield.

“Your style isn’t exactly subtle.” She said focusing back on the path.

“Is battle ever?” he asked.

“Hmm- you have a point.”

        The remainder of day was spent in relative silence, stopping occasionally to eat and rest. Ciara was feeling uncomfortably warm. But she kept it to herself and blew it off as exhaustion from lack of sleep. The clouds were starting to thicken and become overcast as they climbed the rolling hillside. “Looks like it might rain.” Alaster said, scanning the horizon from where they had come. Ciara did not respond. Alaster turned to see her standing at the top of the hill; unmoving with clenched fists. Alaster walked up, already assuming what was in view over the peak. Sure enough it was the Inamian camp. “Ciara?” Alaster said with concern in his voice. “Let’s go.” She uttered sternly.

        The camp was abandoned; some tents were left untouched, while most were broken or burned. The wind was blowing tassels of cloth that remained on their frames. Walking through it gave Alaster chills. He never could overcome the feeling when in places like this. The absence of life where there should be at least something. Ciara’s breathing was becoming somewhat labored and her body was feeling heavier with each step. She pressed on, walking toward the scavenging birds circling up ahead. The cave was completely sealed in rubble. Bodies of human and Inamian alike littered the stone ground outside. A crow landed on the chest of an Inamian; greedily pecking at the flesh. “You son of a bitch!” Ciara yelled as she threw a knife with all the strength she could muster. A plume of feathers blossomed in the air as the crow let out a squawk. It was stricken dead before it hit the ground. Alaster let Ciara walk up to the body alone; he needed to tend to his own kind.

        Most of the human casualties were recruits, a few men Alaster had served with before. One body was farther out than the others facing away from the fight. Alaster approached it kneeling down to inspect the damage. The corpse was pierced with a couple of arrows in the back. My men must have retreated after the collapse. Good, maybe some of them are still alive.

        Alaster rose and started returning to Ciara, who was giving an Inamian prayer of passage to the body she protected from the crow. As Alaster weaved a path between the bodies, one in particular caught his attention. It was that of a human, but the figure was viciously ripped apart at the chest. The throat was torn open and only a face of pure terror was left of the man he once was. Alaster spotted an arrow lodged in the man’s calf which was unnaturally bent at the middle.

Poor bastard must have been wounded and left for dead. Looks like some animals got to him.

         He almost walked away but something odd caught his attention. Upon inspecting the chest he realized something that made his blood run cold. The man’s organs were gone! Alaster looked desperately for the man’s iron chest piece. He found it cast off several feet away and saw what he feared. Both of the leather belt straps on one side of the armor had been undone cleanly; not broken and torn like an animal attack. Alaster anxiously got up and walked with haste toward Ciara who was still chanting.

“…May the mother goddess guide you home.” Alaster was relieved it was the last line of the prayer.

“Ciara, we have a problem!” She quickly turned away, wiped her eyes, and looked at him harshly. “I found a body that looked like a ghoul attack.” The news made Ciara scowl, wide eyed.

“You’re sure about this?” she said hoping it was a bad joke. Alaster steady gaze said otherwise.

“Ok, we will leave before dark. But I’m not leaving my people’s bodies here to be eaten by those…things.” Ciara stood up, quickly observing the area.

“We will build a funeral pyre in the middle of the field. Gather any wood you can from the camp, I’ll do what I can here.” Alaster gave a nod.

“We only have a few hours.” He said as he jogged past her.

        Alaster combed the camp for any wood he could find, swiftly grabbing armloads of tinder. Ciara swept the battlefield, hauling the bodies she could carry to the center of the field. She would need Alaster’s help for most of them. Alaster continued to haul firewood until there was no more. It wasn’t nearly enough for the bonfire. He ran back, taking tents, carts, and clothing, anything that would burn. The wind of the lurking storm had arrived, kicking up blinding dust but Alaster pressed on. The camp was soon picked clean Alaster ran to help Ciara who was so exhausted; she fell to her hands wheezing. It was a fever from her wound, she had no doubt. Alaster could see her fatigue and helped her up, walking her to a nearby boulder to rest. She was too tired to protest. Alaster went back to work, searching for any Inamians he could find; carrying two or even three bodies depending on their size. He counted about forty-five when the rain finally came crashing down, drenching him instantly. “Dammit, all” Alaster muttered under his breath.

         He dropped the body he was carrying onto the mound. Quickly scanning for any that remained, only three more corpses were found. After he got them into the pyre, Alaster grabbed the flint he had and struck it with his knife against the wood in the pile. It was too wet to catch. Alaster got up and ran back to the camp, maybe a torch remained there. He found nothing; the torches that were there had burned out the day before. He was starting to accept defeat when a bolt of lightning struck a ways off. He spun around to the sound of a small murder of crows flying up from the edge of a stone slope nearby. He ran to find an over-turned cart with one of its wheels smashed apart. He jumped down and flipped it over.

         The small body of an Inamian child, who couldn’t have been older than nine, laid in the fetal position underneath. A dark red splotch on the tunic near the ribs spoke of his fate. Alaster stood in silence, self-disgust washed over him more than the rain ever could. He gently picked up the wolf child’s body. A black stain coated the front of his shirt; the scent of pine sap pierced through the rain. A barrel was leaking near the spot the child had perished. It was full of refined tree pitch. Alaster picked it up as well and headed back up the hill…slowly.

        Alaster returned to the battlefield, walking sure-footedly over the human bodies holding the child in one arm as if he were asleep. Ciara stared at the pyre from the shelter of the rock, upset, but still stoic. When Alaster came into view, Ciara quickly realized what he was carrying. She covered her mouth as tears fell down her face and turned away. Alaster could not bear to look at her and kept marching. In silence, Alaster tenderly laid the child atop the pyre and stood there. This is my fault Alaster thought, fostering the contempt in himself. He picked up the barrel and poured it around the pile. With one strike of his flint, the wood caught fire. As he stood back, he looked at the child’s face one more time before it was veiled by flames; it was another face that would haunt him forever. Ciara walked up beside him, silent tears lost to the rain.

        She pulled a necklace out from under her chest piece and stared at the emblem she held in her hand. It was the silhouette of a cat sitting upon the crest of a waning moon its tail hanging over the edge. She closed her hand tightly around it and looked at the pyre with a deep hated that was accentuated in her eyes by the blaze. “All you humans do is destroy us…what did we do?” she said flatly.

        Her breath became erratic. “WHY DO WE DESERVE THIS!!?” She screamed pointing at the fire, looking through tears into Alaster’s eyes with animosity and desperation, searching for an answer.

        “Ciara, I-” She slowly shook her head, mouth a gap and eyes deadlocked with his. There was nothing good enough to say. “…Leave…” She stated almost laughing at Alaster’s attempt to answer, looking away; tears still streaming down her face. Turning back to the bonfire, she took a step and fell hard to her knees, head hung in defeat. Alaster stepped forward.

“Ciara, we can part ways, but it’s getting dark, let’s leave the area before-”

         As he touched her shoulder, lightning struck in a blinding flash. Ciara was opposite him, dagger drawn against his neck in reverse grip; holding down his outstretched wrist with her other hand. “Go…” she said plainly, staring past him over his shoulder with indifference. She released him and he backed up. Without a word, Alaster bowed his head in condolence and stepped away. She ignored him and faced the fire; the rain, louder than the roar of its wind fueled flames. Alaster looked back as he walked near the tree line. Her figure was rapidly swallowed in the grey of the storm. He reluctantly moved on.

                                                                * * *

         Ciara dashed through the dark forest, jumping over obstacles in her path with adrenalized ease. She braced against a storm soaked tree, needing to stop and breath. The fever was getting worse. Her vision was starting to blur and her train of thought was beginning to act like a bad dream. A screeching wail resounded in the far distance behind her. The sound was sobering, bringing Ciara out of her mental fog. Sudden realization made her curse under her breath. The ghouls had found her scent. She started running again. The chaotic haze soon returned, but she did not stop moving. Everything started looking the same, was she making progress or backtracking; she couldn’t tell. Panic and helplessness shattered her enduring resolve. I have to keep running, I have to get aw- she tripped over the loop of a tree root. She closed her eyes and put her hands out to brace for the impact of the wet ground. What she hit was not what she expected: a warm wood floor.

        Ciara looked up, it was her childhood home. Flames were burning everything, she was reliving the worst moment of her life. Blood washed up against her hands. She already knew who’s it was, but in terror she couldn’t stop following the trail. Her mother’s body lay ahead of her on the floor. A crimson slash across her torso was the source.

        The crashing sound of a lightning strike nearby brought her back to reality. She remained laying almost lifeless on the ground too weakened by her fever to move as the frigid rain cascaded down onto her. A crawling hunched figure emerged from the shadows, a ghoul had found her. It stopped several feet away, reared back, and shrieked. Ciara could not hear it, she was deaf to the world. So this is to be my end she thought as she slowly closed her eyes. Accepting her fate, she blacked out.