|
Léof had still been recovering from his own shock when Stigend had run away from him. He took a moment to reconstruct the events in his head: yes, he was still alive, and yes, he had escaped relatively uninjured, somehow. Had he really promised Stigend that he would stay behind? He had no intention of doing so; he had come this far, and while he might be useless as a fighter (he vowed, then, to ask someone at the Hall, Thornden perhaps, for at least basic lessons in weaponry, after this whole mess was over), Eodwine and Rilef were still out there somewhere. He might be of some use to them, and he was not about to sit back uselessly while others headed off to rescue their lord.
He did take Stigend’s advice, however, in taking the outlaw’s long knife. Then he plunged off into the trees in a different direction than Stigend had taken. He went more carefully, now, than he had earlier, taking care to avoid any sounds of fighting. After another encounter with an outlaw, he might not be so lucky. For some time he did not find any, and counted himself fortunate. He also began to feel rather lost, however, unsure of where any of the others or the horses were. He had not been out here to the ruins before, after all. He was not sure that he would be able to retrace his steps; his path had not been straight. Just as he was beginning to feel truly worried, however, he thought he heard voices and warily approached – it would do no good to run into the midst of a group of outlaws!
As he drew nearer, he recognized one of the voices as Thornden’s and came into their presence suddenly, coming around a large rocky outcropping. He caught only Thornden’s most recent, stricken words, “Can not at least one of you yet live?”, but these combined with the scene that opened before his eyes, were sufficient to give Léof some vague idea of what was happening and to replace the relief he had felt with a sickening feeling in his gut. “What has… how can I help?” he stammered out.
|