Night had fallen, leaving the city in darkness. The only light was from the glowing embers of houses that had burned down. The two armies had retreated for the night. There was no point in fighting when neither side could properly see. You were more likely to kill one of your own instead of the enemy. While our soldiers retreated back to the war camp, some had stayed behind to defend the territory we had captured in the city. The Yemeni soldiers, on the other hand, turned the former palace into their stronghold. For the last few hours, most of the war had been reduced to siege warfare. But the walls were not easily breached, leaving us in a stalemate. The smell of smoke and charred flesh invaded Bjorn's nostrils. In the distance, he could still hear the screams even if the night was unnervingly quiet.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the pain-stricken faces of those he killed. Or even those he watched die meaningless deaths. His heart felt heavy, and for a second, it felt like he could not breathe. It was only now, in this moment of silence, after the adrenaline faded, that the horror of it all began knocking on his door. Just when it felt like he would drown in the weight of it all, a strong hand rested on his shoulder. "Here, drink this," Jurgen spoke calmly as he handed him a pitcher. Not completely understanding, Bjorn took the pitcher and took a sip. There was a strong burn as the alcohol went down his throat. Looking up at his friend, he saw how calm he was and could not help but ask. "How are you so calm after all of this?" As if to further his point, he waved his hand, motioning to the city set ablaze.
Jurgen just sat down on the rubble next to him and took a deep breath. "Once you have seen one tragedy, it becomes easier to understand. The important thing is not to let it get to you." He took the pitcher from Bjorn and took a big swig, calming his nerves. "I saw the Captain, by the way." He mentioned offhandedly.
"Oh? And how is he doing?" Bjorn asked with interest while taking another sip. The alcohol was strong but had quite a nice taste, like a mixture of honey and berries.
"Last I saw, he was recovering in the healer's tent. Something about a torn achilles. I don't know much; the healers kicked me out pretty quickly after realizing I was fine." The two just continued sitting and enjoying their drink while keeping watch over the city. But deep down, Bjorn just hoped that it would all end soon. He did not know if he had the strength to go on any longer.
—
I walked out of the healer's tent with a slight limp. All around me, I heard the pained groans of wounded soldiers. Some suffered from burn wounds from spells, while others were missing limbs. This was one aspect of war that I did not miss. I would be lying if I said that I despised war. For the better part of four decades in my previous life, war was the main driver in my life. I had grown accustomed to its harsh realities long ago. After limping out of the tent, I walked through a bustling camp. Some of the veterans were laughing while sipping on strong cognac. I saw that some of the officers were drinking with them. Now, if someone who was not accustomed to bloodshed had seen this, they would have complained.
Yet, they did not understand that any day could be their last, so these men had the right to enjoy the time they had. My regeneration was working wonders while I was recovering. By my own estimates, I should be ready to return to battle by early morning. I may not have inherited the light aspect of my father's bloodline. But the lion-like features were a gift in their own right. I can't even remember how many times my claws have saved my life. Add my regeneration to the mix, and I was nothing but grateful. Retreating back to my tent, I barely put my head on my beadroll before sleep took me. Although the sleep itself was peaceful, my dreams were not. In some way, every single one of my dreams involved me being hunted.
In one, I was a rabbit grazing the forest floor when a large bird swooped down to attack. In another, I was a smaller predator running from a large shadow chasing me from behind. The reason the dreams made me feel uneasy was the fact that I hardly dreamt. In my former life, I had heard rumors that people were given premonitions in their dreams. At first, I did not believe such nonsense. Until it began happening to me. One such occasion was the battle of Welter Woods. I dreamt that someone would attempt to poison my wine. And lo and behold, they did. My paranoia would not allow me to drink it. So without anyone watching, I switched my cup with that of the captain I was drinking with. At first, nothing happened until ten minutes into the descusion his face began turning purple. His throat began to swell, and he died within moments.
After that, I never doubted my dreams again. So when they told me that I was being hunted, I was very much inclined to believe. Waking up covered in cold sweat, with the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. I had to take a moment to calm my beating heart. After convincing myself that I was not in imminent danger, I took stock of myself. All signs of lingering wounds had healed over, leaving only scars in their place. I slowed down, taking my time to equip my leather armor. I could have finished within a few minutes, but I took my time. As people, we had a tendency to try to rush into everything. But sometimes you just have to slow down to appreciate the moment.