[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Smiling at the elf and his comment, Jerika nodded and turned away to join Kane. The two walked down the hill as the elves began the journey away from the cave. Stopping at the bottom of the hill just before the cave, Jerika took in the sight for the first time. A little more than five elves had caused this much chaos between Easterlings and Orcs. Turning to face Kane, Jerika’s smiled faded.

“We can’t just leave them like this, not even the Orcs,” Jerika’s voice bounced about the clearing and cave, a lone sound among the quiet dead.

“We’ll burn the Orcs, and find a way to bury our own. You try separating the Orcs from our kind, and I’ll go find Findorak,” Kane’s usually strong voice wavered ever so slightly, perhaps from the knowledge that all in the cave were dead, or close to it, and that number included his brother. Jerika didn’t know though, and she nodded simply and began her work. She heard the gravel scrape as Kane turned on his heals to find Findorak, and Jerika went to work.

At some points she really thought that many of the men she was separating from Orcs should diet, for most of them were two or three times Jerika’s weight. Heaving Orcs into a large pile outside of the cave was no easy task. They smelled horrible to begin with, and even worse when dead and drenched in wine.

Scared of what she might find among the Easterling bodies, Jerika held off on that until every Orc had been taken from the cave, and piled in the center of the clearing. Then, Jerika bit her lower lip and began to search the bodies of her kind, looking for her brother. She found mangled and bloody men, some she knew, and some she didn’t. No sign of Jeshak anywhere.

When Jerika finally found Jeshak’s body, the last of the sun’s rays were streaming over the hills, and splashes of color consumed the clearing and lit the cave. Jeshak’s crumpled body was in a corner of the cave, and Jerika bent over to pick him up, to find him still alive! Barely breathing, Jerika’s warrior brother sputtered out blood from his coughing mouth, and weakly and slowly opened his hazy eyes. Through his stomach Jerika could see an arrow feather. The arrow was too far into Jeshak’s stomach to have been shot; one of the elves had stabbed Jeshak with the arrow.

“You-you’re alive! Jeshak! Let me help you!” Jerika stuttered, feeling tears behind her eyes. She could barely talk, either out of surprise or sorrow. Jerika went to grab the arrow, but Jeshak stopped her.

“No, no. Let me die. My time has come. I don’t know what to say other than I’ll miss you, and…” Jeshak trailed off as he coughed more blood.

“Don’t, Jeshak!” Jerika could feel one tear falling down her cheek, but she didn’t bother to wipe it away.

“No, I must. Will you tell my wife I love her? Tell her I’ve gone to a better place? Hug my daughter one last time for me. I’ll miss you, and them,” Jeshak’s voice became weaker with every plea, until, with his last word, he breathed a deep bout of air, and then breathed no more.

Biting her lower lip, Jerika hardly noticed as her lip began to bleed, and she hovered over her dead brother. Such was the way of things…for warriors. To live and to die, with no regrets. To fight with honor, and die the same way. Still, Jerika, who was fighting the tears that threatened to follow the first, thought that it was too soon. It was not fair that his younger sister would bury him when he would have had so much life ahead of him. Though her brother had been so self-contained, Jerika still respected him. Brushing the hair from his face, Jerika lifted up her brother and carefully laid him alongside his fellow warriors.

Jerika continued to organize the bodies, and was about to go find Kane when he came walking in, carrying Findorak.