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Late autumn lay like a wet grey woollen blanket over [[hillfort]] hundred and [[Ludwell]]. Being home was awkward somehow, each year the presence of his father and the Anarawd legacy faded a little more, replaced by something else. In any case, [[Gamond]] wasn’t quite sure what the Anarawd were supposed to be, or whether he cared. The [[Saxons]] had surely killed it along with his father. For all he knew they had taken the [[heartblade]] as well, after the night of long knives the heirloom had passed from knowing. What good were old legends anyway? As was often the case when he stayed at [[Ludwell]], [[Gamond]] strayed. The river was tempting, but too cold and strident by far this time of year. Modrons [[forest]] was a poor substitute, unlike his friend [[Cadry]] he’d never been much for hunting or running around among the trees. Under the boughs and in the shadows lurked things from the past best buried deep. Nevertheless, into [[Modron]] is where his wanderings took him, feet moving on their own as his thoughts scattered through past and future. This year had been a strange one. He hadn’t really been scared when they fought [[The Imber Bear|the Imber bear]], even though it had been huge and lethal, but when [[Melkin]] and [[Maelgwyn]] fell into the river he thought his heart would leap out of his throat. In many ways, his three friends were his real family. The battle of [[Menevia]] was something else again, nothing at all like the songs and stories told around the fires and by the bards. In the songs battle was always glorious, great warriors exclamating lofty goals and destinies while beset by enemies and emerging victorious or falling tragically to trechery or foul fate. [[Gamond]] remembered only chaos, screaming men and [[horses]], the hideous smell of blood and death and his own great disorientation. When [[Maelgwyn]] had gotten lost in the din he hadn’t time to think, just acted on instinct, riding after to get him out alive. Even the dreadful shock of that [[spear]] piercing his armpit had been swallowed by great confusion and the roaring of blood in his ears. It wasn’t really until he had found himself utterly alone, surrounded by the [[Irish]] that he had felt scared. [[Maelgwyn]] appearing to help had been among the single best moments of his life so far. Dour and contrary as his friend could sometimes be, he did love the man as a brother. [[Gamond]] was unceremoniously drawn from his thoughts as he walked face first into low hanging branches. Swearing and angry he grabbed his dagger and hacked the branch down. Suddenly exhausted he stared around, where in all the hells had he gone off to? The area didn’t look familiar. Blood welled into his mouth from a split lip. The trees bowed towards him, shadows stretching long. He was suddenly bathed in cold sweat, heart hammering frantically against his ribcage. He could smell the blood,so much of it, and that awfully familiar reek of torchsmoke. He had to run. They were all going to die. Fighting against the rising panic and the white blinding noise that threatened to drown all thought, [[Gamond]] went to all fours, digging his fingers into the dirt. Digging meant safety, dig and hide, be part of the roots. The deep shelter of the earth. By degrees, handful by handful of rich earth, he dug himself back to the present. Soon the whispering of branches in the wind and distant song of birds reminded him of now, and left then behind. There were other sounds on the breeze, now that he was calm enough to listen. Faint noises of someone in pain, a woman? Cautiously [[Gamond]] followed, minding his step. Moving in the [[forest]] had become harder than ever of late, his great height and long limbs finding all manner of snares and foliage. At length he breached the [[forest]], finding an opening into a grove set in an overgrown glen. Scraggly shrubs and thornvine choked the space, making access difficult. Sitting on a stone, back propped against a tree, trying to bind a wound in her side sat a girl the wound went almost unnoticed, for she was naked from the waist up, and Gamonds young blood ran hot through his body, a little like a fever. Something deep in his heart turned, and twisted tight. ”Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to help?” Oh god, she was looking right at him. Her eyes were off, one metal grey and one a sharp blue. Why was he thinking of her eyes? The girl sighed ”just my luck, on the off chance someone found me it would be the village idiot” He felt his cheeks run hot, and a flash of anger was his only response to shame. ”I’m not an idiot!” Oh god, why was he shouting? That wasn’t supposed to come out as a shout. She was looking at him again, eyebrows raised. ”The pup has some fire in him at least.” [[Gamond]] fumbled to find his composure, but found no purchase. He didn’t even know where to look, was her eyes appropriate? Certainly not further down. Maybe on her hair? It was very nice hair. Brown, but like a golden halo where the sun shone through behind her. ”Look, if you’re not going to help, could you go get someone?” ”I’m going to be a lord you know, you should mind your tone and not be so … so” ”So what?” ”Um.” He was looking at her again. He should stop that. Definitely stop that. ”Um, is it? Look, I really need help. Could you get over yourself and please come here?” There was something in her voice, a sudden weakness beneath the bravado that twisted like a knife in his gut. He finally looked down, looked close. Her side was covered in blood. Suddenly all his anger was gone, fear a distant memory. He didn’t quite know how he got over to her through the thorns and twisted growth, he took her in his arms and lifted her like a child. She suddenly seemed much younger than before, his own age even. ”I know a woman in the village, she will help you. She will do as she is told.” The girl had lost her strength along with her heartsblood and did not answer. As [[Gamond]] ran to [[Ludwell]] village the sun broke through the clouds over the grove. Where sunlight danced on wet pools of blood small white flowers opened their petals among the dead brambles.
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