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Wind howls through the woods, blowing fresh snow in its wake. Illuga runs through the trees, holding the torn bloodstained fabric of his sleeve shut against the cold. He limps slightly to the left in a shifty gait but moves steadily forward.
It’s been a long time since I was hurt this bad.
At least nothing seems broken… I need to get back quickly. I’m used to fighting the wild hunt, I should be past these kinds of things. I won’t miscalculate next time.
Illuga leans over, placing his hands on his knees. He breathes heavily, coughing a few times as he catches his breath. Cold wind blows through the tears in his coat, searing his open wound.
There’s still so far to go…
“Gosh dangit.” Illuga exclaims, scoffing under his breath as he starts walking again.
The wind quiets in the thick of the forest, leaving the sound of his own footsteps as the only company. The treetops sway, rustling as they brush against each other. Illuga turns to check behind him, breathing heavily. His eyes dart through the trees, meeting nothing but a small rabbit a few meters away. He sighs with relief. Night crawls on, the moon reaching farther and farther. Illuga shivers, a strange chill running up his spine.
When did the forest get so quiet?
Illuga looks back towards the horizon. Barely dawnlit shadows stretch across the snow from the base of trees. One of them wavers, its image tripping to the side. Illuga clutches his spear in one hand, readying his stance despite the pain in his left leg.
“You… need an escort.”
A voice echoes through the night, as if the wind itself was speaking. Illuga’s breath catches in his throat. A tall man steps out from behind the tree, holding a glowing blue lantern in his hand. Perhaps it was the early morning sun rays, the sleepless night spent away, or that persistent howling wind, but Illuga couldn’t quite make out the figure’s face. His eyes seemed to glow a sort of blue, his hair obscured some of his features, and his sharp silhouette seemed to be nothing more than another creature of the night.
“Oh- “ An escort? Illuga looks back up, squinting his eyes.
“Why, Mr. Flins…” His voice fades as the figure approaches closer.
“Master Illuga. We should get you back to headquarters.”
“Ah, yes.” Illuga takes to walking beside him.
He winces as he limps, pretending not to notice Flins offering his arm. Flins walks slowly to match his pace. His boots crunch through the snow beneath, the handle of his lantern creaking with each step as it lights the way. Illuga braces himself as the wind howls again. He takes a few steps to the side, distancing himself from the wavering shadow on his left.
“Why so cold, Master Illuga? Are you alright?”
Illuga glances to the side, catching a glimpe of Flins’s face. His eyes remain unchanging, but a slight smile curls at his lips.
“Oh...” Illuga pauses. “Perhaps the night brings an… unfamiliar air about you.”
“It is not the first time I have been told this. Though I reassure you; I am the same as you have known before, no matter the hour of the night.”
Illuga nods, still trudging along with a crooked gait. His face flushes red with embarrassment.
“Master Illuga.” Flins turns to face Illuga, stopping in front of him.
His voice still carries with the wind, but this time with an inflection of familiar kindness. Illuga stops, staring down at the black boots standing in front of him.
“There is still much further to go, and you are bleeding quite badly. Please, let me carry you.”
Illuga feels a lump forming in his stomach as he tries to will himself to look up at Flins. A gloved hand reaches to lift his chin; it’s leather surface cold against his face. Illuga makes contact with Flins’s eyes. He shivers, half expecting their blue glare to burn him alive.
“Please.” Flins’s smile reaches his eyes slightly, their cold air giving way to his kindness.
Illuga wasn’t sure whether it was the way he looked at him, his seniority, or the fact that he was hiding incredible pain, but he gave way to the request and before he knew it was settled in Flins’s arms. He blinks, willing himself to open his eyes. A long blue braid dangles across Flins’s shoulder, waving in front of his face with each gentle step.
“Don’t tell me you too are one of the fools who are afraid of the dead.”
Illuga’s face flushes red with embarrassment again.
“Really, you’re quite different at night, I mean it.” Illuga laughs, exhaling with relief as the sun pierces the horizon. He settles his head against Flins’s shoulder.
“Did Ms. Lauma do this?” Illuga asks, fingering the braid.
“No, she merely taught me how. I’m getting better by the day.”
“Ah, I see.” Illuga lets the braid fall back against his shoulder. He closes his eyes, the subtle rocking of each step through the snow lulling him to sleep.