wounded

The pale green eyes set in his head glance up towards the stars. It’s so cold, he thinks. There’s a warmth, like warm water being poured over his shoulder, forehead and chest. Some of this warmth trickles out of his mouth from the corner of his lip. Slumped against the house of an acquaintance he had promised to watch over, his legs lay sprawled out and his mind uncertain how long exactly it took to crawl from where he fell to where he now is.

Orcs. It had been strange, seeing their tracks on the forest floor. Smelling their blood in the air. Ashwyneth had often searched for plants and hunted for animals among these woods, and very rarely had she even heard of orcs here.