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Uhtred drove his sword into the heart of the last Dane within reach, as all at once the rest turned and fled. Throughout the battle, his anxiety had been steadily growing as his eyes wandered over to the eastern side of the battle field.
Finan had been leading the men on that side, where few could now be seen standing. Some were chasing the Danes off who were now fleeing defeated into the trees, some already had joined the middle side, and many, many lay slain.
Uhtred locked eyes with Sihtric and nodded, feeling their obligation to this side of the field fulfilled as the main bulk saw their defeat and turned tail. They gave into the nagging anxiety and ran.
None of those that wandered nearer to the heat of the battle were him. Where the side they had come from was a blaze, this side was now embers. Or ashes.
"Finan!" Sihtric bellowed.
Uhtred called out immediately after. The cry fell flatly over the field of fallen bodies, swords and shields.
There was no reply. Uhtred felt the sickening creeping dread of the end of a battle. Below the surface he felt he might be sick.
"FINAN!" He cried.
They searched the faces of the slain, fearing now the worst. Their calls were swallowed up by the cries of victory from their battalion.
"Lord," Came a voice so weak he almost didn't hear it. He whipped around wildly, eyes darting over every face. There.
Finan was lying on his back propped up against another fallen man, his hand raised weakly. "Lord,"
Uhtred rushed over and called to Sihtric.
He scanned his friend all over as he drew near. He looked pale, and there was blood staining his side.
Uhtred fingers trembled as he grasped his hand, bringing the other hand to Finan's face.
"Are you hurt? Where is your sword?" He said, urgently searching the ground around them.
"I'm alright, I'm alright - Uhtred." Finan took Uhtred's hand back in his. His dark eyes went straight through Uhtred and steadied him somewhat.
He pulled wasp sting from his belt and closed Finan's hand around it's hilt.
"Don't– don't let go of this." He said sternly.
Finan's hand was warm between his and the metal, that was a good sign at least.
He looked aside for a moment as Sihtric caught up to them, and pulled himself together, starting to look over Finan's injuries.
He touched his hand to the side of his head where blood was drying in his hair.
"Did you get hit out cold?" Finan nodded wearily. Suddenly looking tired and dazed again.
"I think so. Don't remember to be quite honest– ah!" He winced, wrapping an arm around right side.
Uhtred gently pulled his hand away to look at the wound. "A spear?"
He nodded.
"The blow to your head was a friendly one, every other man of this flank lies dead - Can you stand?"
"'s worth trying."
With Finan's arm slung around their shoulders they half carried him to where the horses were, and from there back to the camp.
He was white as a sheet and breathing hard when he dismounted.
They helped him into the tent and sat him down again.
Sihtric dressed his wound as best he could, wishing for Osferth, who usually aided in this sort of thing.
Finan noted how Uhtred lingered in the doorway with hard eyes, his arms crossed. Every few moments Finan would catch him staring, but Uhtred wouldn't hold his gaze.
They rested at the encampment that night, and the two friends slept by Finan's sides to keep him from shivering. He was hot, and breathing heavily most of the night.
Uhtred sat up from the floor to stoke the fire he had lit in the entryway of the tent.
"You looked scared." Finan's quiet voice startled him. "...On the front."
"I was. I thought you dead- dying." He said clumsily. There was a long silence.
"I can't go to Valhalla, Uhtred." He said gently.
"I know. I know you don't believe. I just…" He trailed into silence. "I would live better with the hope that I might see you again."
Finan said nothing.
"Selfish I know."
He could see the whites of Finan's eyes light up in the dark of the tent as they met his.
"So would I."
He pulled out his dagger and clutched it to his chest. Uhtred gave a soft laugh.
"Get some sleep."