Régnwald has been lying in the bed for some hours now, eyes closed; though no one would say where his thoughts were riding, 'twas a mere darkness for him. Until now, hazel green eyes of the warrior opening halfly on this bloodstained dawn. Aching waist unflinching as his hand ran with a sudden pain to hold his face, finding a worn rag hugging his forehead. A bare deep sigh escaped him.
Zaiweyn looked up at the sounds of shuffling and sighing, moving over with the bucket of water, to replace the old rag with a new one. "I will warn you now, if you try to get up all the time like Faerhild, I will tie you down too."
Faerhild kept squeezing her eyes shut, as if to force herself to sleep, although a dark frown loomed on her brow. Her heavy ragged breaths signalling even breathing caused her pain, ripping the wound.
Régnwald attempted to straighten with all the power he could muster, grimacing with somewhat more ache as a glimpse could be beheld on his scarred features, hands bloodied from the deeds made in Framburgh. His face suddenly burning, though his cheeks were already rubbed raw from coarse wind. ''...Where are we?'' he managed to speak, swallowing heavily, allowing the woman a brief length to study him. Without waiting for the answer, a head cocked to the side only to find a woman lying in the next bed, who would be, to his faint surprise, noone but Faerhild. The man sucked in a deep breath then, finally looking up to match Zaiweyn's gaze.
Zaiweyn didn't seem happy. She actually seemed somewhat upset, not really meeting the gaze all that often, busying herself with the usual check-up of the wounds. Not the most delicate person in the world, due to lack of proper medical experience. "Home... or well, what stands for home now. That village."
Faerhild had a cruedly treated wound on her waist, it was filled with some sort of paste, yet still blood trickles through as the wound strecthes whenever the woman breathed. Her right cheek was swollen and purple with bruises along with the corner of her eyes.
Régnwald remained silent a long time at that, his gaze remaining a sombre one. Stiffling to mouth words, shaggy straw coloured locks swayed as his eyes casted about the small Eorling house in search of other familiar images. Pursing the lips chafed from the cold, he swallowed heavily, finally speaking ''Are we the only ones left?!'' head tilted backward as his wound bit him once more
Zaiweyn shook her head, growling somewhat. "Shh! Do not get all excited or your stitches will tear" she said sternly. "And no, there are more. One man died for sure, but... the rest live. I think. Hard hurt but alive."
Faerhild opened her eyes, simply staring up at the ceiling in grim, pained silence.
Régnwald brooded over the maiden's words a beat, silence succumbing as thoughts began to chirp and growl. A sigh whistled from between his lips as he uttered the name of the fallen warrior ''...Gydgar.'' Deep sorrow could be read from the warrior's battered and worn features if one would pursue to behold.
Zaiweyn nodded lightly, doing her best to just stare at the wound she was tending to, not looking the man into the eye, or at anything else. "Yes" is all she said.
Faerhild turned her face to look away from the two to shield her pained expression.
Faerhild bit her teeth together to stiffle yet another whimper, although it escaped nonetheless in a faint sound of vast uncomfort. Her tired eyes squeezing shut, attempting to find once again at least a moment of something that was not sheer pain.
After a long pause the Horselord offered a last nod in silent solemnity. "Look after yourself, ...we've lost much, let's none of us lose anything else, eh?" The words were spoken low. Holding the rag on his forehead firm for a few moments. Slipping his hand from the worn cloth and with a breath drawn in what could have been resignation, he yielded to the burden of his heavy chest, he pressed himself back, head cocking to the side to see Faerhild, watching her stillness thawing -- least to him. ''Is she, alright?'' heavy eyes shifted to hold Zaiweyn's gaze.
Zaiweyn sighed deeply, clenching her jaw for a while. "I will try. I hope you all will look after yourselves better too. This... this was madness. Too much madness for me" she says quietly, then nods lightly. "She lives, but needs a real healer soon. I can not help much."
Faerhild turned her head slowly to look at Régnwald. She simply breathed, as if it would be a task itself.
Régnwald watched her a beat, brooding over the words uttered. Though not adding the words of his own for this time. He firmed his jaw, letting his gaze wander around his byrnie reddened partly in his own and the black filthy blood of the enemy. He sighed, half closing his eyes with more pain as it bit his chest.
Faerhild observed his wandering gaze, before speaking in heavy sighs between her ragged breaths, "I...hhh...have...sent Yrminas, son ofhh Irmin... for Leofholmh."
Zaiweyn muttered something, stepping back to let the two talk. "I wonder if I should get some stew ready..."
'He should....return in...hh... two days. 'If the wind...favours us.'
Faerhild managed a weak grim smile, her eyes filled with both fear and hope.
Régnwald spared the barest of frowns to her, eyes glistening, ''To Forlaw?'' it was questioned with an answer already known, ''Yeah,'' he breathed, forcing a weak smile though only the sides of his lips curling into a dark humour, ''Now that's all we need, eh.'' His head cocked to the other side, appearing vaguely uneasy to this decision.
Faerhild raised her brow, appearing genuinely confused, "You think we do not need a healer? Should we not only rush into our deaths, but...hrgghgh... also quicken them, by continuing... on the path of madness?' she gasped her words out, frowning darkly. Faerhild squeezes her eyes shut abruptly at the sudden sensation of stinging pain. She raises her hand on her mouth to bite it.
Régnwald shifted his gaze to her, a faint shrug escaping him ''Of course.'' he paused, scanning the wooden roof of the abandoned house, brooding inwardly ''I wouldn't think they'd send the master healer all alone. Would be naught but a sacrifice.'' he watched her features soundlessly, clearing his throat.
-- to be continued --
