A particularly sharp wind sent a chill running down Herbert’s neck like a lightning bolt, causing him to grimace, but he tried to supress to urge to shiver. Giving up his coat was invariably stupid. However, as Will pointed out, he valued the woman’s dignity in death more. He just hoped that there was someplace warm, and the castle wasn’t a hollow cave of ice and frozen stone.  

Herbert waved the compliment away dismissively. “You have more sense than me then,” he grumbled. 

Bizbee nudged Herbert in the side of the face, and his waving hand went absentmindedly to the creature, his fingers pattering hard bone as he stroked. It took a short while for Herbert to realise, whereupon he withdrew the hand and coughed into it. Then he stood rigid and folded his arms, bracing against the cold.

So, it seemed nobody knew what had happened here. Apart from the perhaps girl on the altar but – well, that was a dead end, quite plainly. At the mention of the supplies, his ears pricked up. His stomach rumbled lamely and his mouth felt dry. He had entirely forgotten how long it had been since he had eaten or drank a thing. Moreover, clothes! As fortune had it, he may not live his final hours as a chattering, frostbitten lump of frozen meat after all. No small blessing that Herbert counted. 

Guns were a doubled edge sword; they could protect them, yes, but how much could he trust everyone here? Not with his life, that much was certain. He warily eyed the weapons Will and Dzel held. Dzel’s unfamiliarity with the item was obvious, the awkward way she handled it was a sharp contrast to Will, who seemed surprisingly more comfortable. Herbert made due note of this.

The radiation explained the ill feeling, or it would have, if Will hadn’t assured them it was too low to cause harm unless they had a fortnight of exposure. Whilst Herbert was not terribly familiar with radiation, he knew of radiation poisoning, and levels as low as Will claimed would have a delayed onset when one entered the immediate vicinity; a couple of hours, Herbert hazarded. Either Will was giving false information, or something else was causing that foreboding, leaden feeling in the gut. Herbert wasn’t sure how he felt about this revelation. He would have to ask to see the Geiger-Müller counter Will was using; until he saw the reading with his own eyes he was not believing anything, and even then, it could be faulty. Quite the dilemma. Perhaps it would simply be best to try to leave the area as quickly as possible, and put a good few yards of stone between them and the source.

[i]“Very distant”[/i]

An understatement. Herbert had never heard of the “Eastern Ridges” or the “Silver Fist Elites” Dmitri had spoken of, but that could simply be because it was part of the uncivilised world. Ryann on the other hand… She must have been from a different world altogether. She hadn’t even offered her place of origin in introduction, but Herbert guessed it would be unbeknownst to him. He had never heard of a place with a winged populace, save for Heaven’s Angels. 

[i]“I can have a look at those wounds for you”[/i]

The words were practically stolen out of Herbert’s mouth, which hung open dumbly. He shut it and furrowed his brow. There was likely nothing Dimitri could do for her, other than perhaps find a cleaner dressing and ensure the wounds had been cleaned thoroughly. Unless they found some alcohol or iodine solution. Then a great deal could be done.

He brushed his hand brusquely against his trouser legs and looked around quickly. His eyes slid quickly across the charred corpses, now destined to be part of the landscape, but he said a silent prayer when his eyes fell upon the girl again. 

Turning his attention back to Will, he held out a gesturing arm and bobbed his head curtly, arching his brow; an invitation for him to follow the great monk first. The wind nipped again and made his hairs stand on end. He brought the arm back and rubbed his body firmly, crossing it with the other after he was warm enough.

Ryann stood close by. Her spindly form stood out against the vast mountains and immense blankness of snow and empty sky. She had introduced him as Bert, and he wasn’t sure whether to correct her. He hadn’t at the time. Maybe it would just stick now. It didn’t matter terribly. He tried a comforting smile in her direction, but it was uneasy; half from the dire need of practise, and half from the little wings that twitched on her back. Realising this was probably not a pleasant sight; he instead asked the first question that came to his mind. 

“Where are you from?”

Bizbee chittered at this question, crawling around the back of Herbert’s collar to reach to other shoulder to see whom he was talking to; its attention fixated on Dzel until then. It chirped at Ryann.