[b][u]A Day Later…[/b][/u]

[b]”I think we should stop here.”[/b]

They had left the capital of Plegia a day ago, walking until it was dusk. The shadows had grown long, the breeze had picked up a bit. It made the harsh temperature drop a bit, providing some sort of relief for the troop. Talbot was at the head of the platoon, not because he wanted to be the leader, but because he wanted to camp where they had been before. The dead trees would cast shade upon them when it was day, and there was a brook where they had found that man and the woman. Though, he was a bit… unhappy. Sad, even. Helena was killed in that battle, leaving them without a leader. His brown eyes looked down at the dry ground as he tossed his satchel in the corner. His arm was better now, still stinging a bit but not causing as much pain as it had before. No longer did every movement cause him to cry out. [i]That pompous prince’s poultice did well.[/i]

He sat down on the ground and pulled off his lute from his back. He set it in his lap and strummed it slightly, beginning to sing. [b]”[i]It’s always summer under the sea, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh,[/i]”[/b] it was the only way that he could release his stress. The sadness from the death of Helena was killing him. The mourning was eating away at his insides. She was a good woman, a very good woman. And now she was dead, slaughtered at the hands of the Ylissean first tiers. [b]”[i]The birds have scales, and the fish take wing, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh…[/i]”[/b] perchance this would make the rest of the troops calm, or even a bit happy. Even though it was horrible that there was a death within their ranks, they should remember Helena for what she was, not that crumpled body on the sandy cobblestone floor.

[b]”[i]The rain is dry, and the snow falls up, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh… the stones crack open, the water burns… the shadows come to dance, my love, the shadows come to play… the shadows come to dance, my love, the shadows come to stay…[/i]”[/b] 

At the end it took a dark turn, but Talbot was fond of the song. He remembered when he was younger, just a boy. The bards would sing such songs in the middle of the streets. The kids would squeal and dance, but that was so long ago, when there was peace in the world. The black haired man smiled at the memory, and for once he wondered if it would have been better if he had not joined the Shepherds in the first place. He could have been in peace, and yet… he would not have met that beautiful woman that called herself Natalia. He would not have known the power of love and friendship. And he would not have known the pang of loss.

Tears began to come to his eyes, and he blinked them away. [b]”We need a fire to cook food, and someone to hunt, and someone else to fill water pouches.”[/b] he told the rest. [b]”It’s a suggestion, but you can do whatever you want.”[/b]