[Osse]

Hillmen

Bear glared out through the masses of tangled hair to the corner where Fletch was sitting; seething at the amount of face he had lost. Without looking away, one of his large fingers traced its way awkwardly down to the torn and bloody tatters that had at the start of the day been his lashings. He tried to mask the involuntary wince made as his finger touched the ripped and lacerated flesh of his calf. The wound wasn’t deep or serious, but it was sore. It was convenient that the meeting was being held in the priest’s hut; the old man had herbs to treat such a wound. The sound of Wolf’s quiet voice reverberated around the dim, smoky room. The setting was grim, as was the speech. Bear only listened in an off-hand manner. Much of which that was spoken he already knew or suspected. Instead his gaze wandered around the room, examining the familiar faces in a new light, wondering if these under-nourished men would be able to cope with what lay ahead. They would have to, either they did, or all of them would die.
Bear continued his visual inspection of the room, occasionally offering a nod of encouragement or twisted smile when his gaze met that of one of his comrades. As Wolf completed his speech, a shudder ran through the small, crowded room like water in an eddying pool. The younger men in the group could not control the fear as it kindled in their eyes, their faces became panic-stricken and their knuckles whitened as they gripped their seats or weapon hilts. The older, more experienced men could contain the fear to but a flicker, a quick burst of electric flame soon quenched that was only discernable from close quarters and even then only to those who knew them well. Bear knew them well, the young and the old. He had seen for himself the strength of the invaders, it matched that of his tribe tenfold.

His survey halted abruptly in the corner where Fletch stood when his gaze met that of the midget. He cursed himself and the anger as he felt it rush to his face. Whatever was written on his face, it must have quite startled Fletch, as he nodded quickly and broke Bear’s gaze, so unlike his usual manner of unbreakable will and contempt. Slowly the hillmen started to flow out of the hut, halting briefly to receive short words of encouragement from Wolf who stood near the door. Bear sat unmoving whilst the room emptied around him. Fletch risked a fleeting glance over his shoulder as he stood on the threshold. Bear stood up with a short groan, intentionally not putting any weight on his injured leg. He composed himself, and tried not to limp as he walked across the room to Wolf, who still stood unmoving by the door, staring with unseeing eyes into the village. The pale, natural light revealed blue-grey bags under Wolf’s eyes, evidence of lack of sleep.
“You worry overmuch brother.” Bear stated to the wind.
“Perhaps, but I fear these southerners shall be the death of us Bear, we cannot hope to overcome them with this rabble.” Came Wolf’s reply after some time. His voice sounded faint and tired.
Wolf had always been a mystery to Bear, often he could not perceive his brother’s mood or thought and on the off chance that he could, what he learned of Wolf’s mind made no sense to him.
“Come brother, hope is not lost. I deem we shall drive these haughty invaders away easily. They shall flee once they taste cold steel. We shall make them rue the day they set foot in our land.” And as he finished, his voice rose in such a tumult that the ravens roosting in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. Wolf’s gaze wandered down to the ground, he shuffled a stone with his foot.
“Brother, what ill chance has maimed your leg?” His voice was full of concern, either feigned or sincere.
“Nothing. I simply put my leg in a game trap.” Was his hurried, almost secretive reply.
“But brother, our folk never use such devices, rather they prefer to shoot or slay their quarry from close range.”
“If you must know, it occurred whilst I was monitoring the progress of the southerners, it seems they are stealing our game as well as our land!” said Bear.
“Whilst you are here you should get the priest to tend your leg.” and with that he strode out into the ruddy light.

[ October 11, 2003: Message edited by: Osse ]

[ October 11, 2003: Message edited by: Osse ]