[Osse]

Though the darkness was slowly lifting from the land, darkness was slowly descending upon Bear’s sight as he stumbled homewards. Every step he took seemed a trial. Voices spun around his head, some willing him to go on, and some laughing at him as he dragged himself along. He waved a hand in front of him, as if to ward off some unseen blow and suddenly stopped.

Standing up straight, he felt the wind caress his brow, playing with his shaggy, sodden locks and whistling through his beard. Like a beast he sniffed at the breeze, willing it to give him solace. And suddenly it seemed to Bear that the shadows receded; he could now see around him quite clearly and his head, though thumping, felt a little clearer. Shaking his head, he trudged on, slightly faster, using the occasional tree as a prop.

Ever since he had ripped his mail vest off, a throbbing, severe, yet dull pain in his back had plagued his movements. If he had been able to notice, Bear would have found the blue-fletched arrow that was imbedded just below his shoulder plate; he would have felt the blood as it began to dry, he would have noticed just what peril his body was currently in. As it was, Bear was completely oblivious to this fact. Even at the time, he had been, due to weariness and anger, oblivious to the many arrows as they peppered the water around his almost-submerged form. One thought continued to reverberate through his mind: “I must get back home…”

Bear’s feelings told him that he was nearing the village – a last effort was needed, just one, and he’d be home. Like a whipped horse, he grudgingly quickened his pace.

Suddenly, there it was. The village seemed to shimmer for a moment as Bear scanned the familiar structures. Without thinking, he found that his legs had broken him into a loping run. A thought eased itself gently, yet strongly into Bear’s mind; where were the sentries?

Seldom was anyone allowed to approach the village in such a manner, sentries should have questioned him by now. It was this rather than anything else that made Bear suspect that anything was wrong. Every hut was empty; every fire had been kicked out…fires that were never let to go out…

Here and there, were patches of darker earth, stained deep red. By smell, the blood was not animal. Bear wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, his disbelieving mind rolling around in the fetal position of denial. Though all the while, Bear’s eyes and his nose were constantly scanning the area for further clues. Boot-prints, hoof-prints, broken arrows – it was apparent immediately what had happened. The large rut made by something huge being dragged, was not even needed to make up his mind, nor was the direction in which it was being dragged. All hurts and weariness forgotten, Bear plunged off, like a wolf, in the same direction as the raiders.