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Shouts. Explosions. Crazed, skull-masked invaders on horseback, waving torches, slashing, burning. An eerie, rumbling sound pulsates from the village, like hundreds of voices humming in unison. Scrambling, sliding on the icy whip-grass, Roan and Stowe race, closer every step to the blue bramble, to safety.
A piercing scream. Stowe’s fingernails rip Roan’s palm as a hideous red skull leans down, lifts her. The masked rider kicks off Roan’s bleeding hand. Stowe is reaching, reaching for Roan, but high in the air above her the rider’s bone club swoops down.
—Quick, quick, Roan, move, move, move!
Hands pulling him up, throwing clothes on him. His sister, Stowe, clutching her straw doll, shaking. His mother, kissing him, hugged him, then pushed Roan and Stowe through the open window.
—Go! Hide in the blue brush! Run! Run!
...
Roan sat up his breathing coming harsh and his eyes wild. His heart pounded in his ears. He glanced all around him looking for those who had killed his family. All he found was his bed, there was a small dresser next to him, a desk off to one side, and his pack.
In a moment he was standing and pulling his clean clothes out of the dresser. A simple white shirt with black pants. Once his shirt was on he grabbed his hooksword and headed out of his tent.
The Brothers camp was quiet. Most of them had gone to bed hours ago. Though he knew there were a few guards about. Wolf always made sure there were a few guards. He didn't want them to be caught off guard.
Roan headed towards the training grounds using the shadows to his advantage. Just like the rest of the camp, the training grounds was dark and empty. It was perfect for him to run through his stances.
Another check told him that he was alone and he was not being watched. Roan went through his warm-up stretches. It would not do to hurt himself by not doing so. Wolf would not be happy if he hurt himself.
After a few minutes, he took up his sword, and slowly deliberately he went through the movements. He could hear Wolf calling out the positions. His fellow students followed each command. They had to perfect it in case they were ever attacked. If they were attacked every member of the camp would be called upon to defend it.
Slashing through the air was easy. There was no one to clash against him. That meant he wouldn't shed any blood. Bloodshed would go against everything his village stood for. Ideals that had gotten them killed.
Roan shook his head forcing the thoughts away. There was only the blade in his hands and nothing more. One two three four. One three two. Going through each movement over time they grew faster and faster.
Until steel clashed upon steel. Roan immediately switched into a defensive stance. He dropped back ready to defend himself from an attack. A steel blade came down as if to split open his head. It was blocked easily and he dodged the follow-up.
Attacks came faster and faster. More than once Roan had to step away rather than try and deflect or block the attack. Then he felt a tap on the top of his head. This had him looking into the worn scarred face of Wolf.
Wolf was a tall well-muscled man, nearly 6 feet in height. Shaggy black hair fell into his grey-blue eyes. Roan guessed the man was somewhere between his mid-twenties and early 30s. He was young compared to many adults, especially in the camp. This however did not mean that he was ignorant. Proof of that was how he stood in front of Roan. Like Roan, he wore a white shirt and black pants.
Slowly Roan relaxed his stance into one that was more conversational. Then he greeted, "Brother Wolf."
"Little brother," returned Wolf reproachfully, "You should not be out this late."
Roan bowed his head and said, "My apologies, I could not sleep. I hope I did not wake you, Brother."
Wolf looked him up and down considering his words. Then he said, "Come, little brother. I'll watch over your dreams tonight."
"You don..."
A hand touched his shoulder gently stopping him from continuing. With a sigh he allowed the man to push him back towards the camp. Wolf's tent was near the camp's gate and far from Roan’s own tent. Someone must have seen the youth leave his tent. At least they went for Wolf and not Raven.
Wolf's tent was almost exactly the same as Roan’s on the inside. Instead of a simple backpack, however, there was a bag and saddle packs in one corner. Packed in case they had to go in a hurry. Their twin blades were laid carefully by the packs. Then Roan was pushed towards the bed.
He tried to argue but Wolf stopped him, "Little brother you need your sleep. I can sacrifice one night's sleep to ensure you get it. Rest no one will hurt you while I'm here."
Reluctantly he laid on the bed and to his surprise he fell swiftly asleep. His breathing evened out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.