If Farid thought Jorwen’s lungs were playing hell on him when he woke him up, the look on his face that Jorwen caught in tear-screened glances told him Farid was realizing how high on the tip of the iceberg he was about Jorwen’s cough. It felt like blades in his throat with each hack coming out deep and guttural. He finally knocked something loose and hocked it to the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and taking a moment to regain himself. His head felt light and black was creeping in, though that was more because he’d run a good part of a mile without stopping. Fucking heroics, too old for those delusions of grandeur by now, he thought. “Fuck.” he said, fixing his helmet and tightening its straps.

“You’re telling me, Red-Bear.” Farid said, using a finger to lower the branch of a bush out of his eyes, “A lot going down out there.”

“We’re going to be in it, little one.” Jorwen said, snorting something into his face and spitting again.

“We’re supposed to observe. We only intervene if they don’t make it to the walls.” He said, looking at Jorwen like he’d told him he’d be marrying his mother. “It’s what I’ll be doing. I may have signed on to this company but it’s because I thought we wouldn’t be doing much fighting. Easy money.”

“Nothing worth having can be got easily, little one.” Jorwen said as Farid dropped back down and scurried on his belly to check his weapons. It was a little while before they’d be satisfied with their blades, but Jorwen was always one to keep his weapons in working order. Farid went back to peeking out at the battle here and there while he put his dagger to his whetstone for a last-minute sharpening.

“Oy, you see anything?” Jorwen asked as he put his big knife to the whetstone. Farid pulled a branch out of his way and narrowed his eyes.

“Aye.” He said, nodding high and low as if he’d gotten the wisdom of the ancients and he turned back to Jorwen. “There’s a battle on.”

“Watch yourself, little one.” Jorwen put his knife back in its sheath and stood, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Farid mumbled as he stood.

“Let’s go.” And he bolted down the sloping rocks that led down to the redoubt’s main path. Through the trees, he found Roze on the ground with an arrow through her. It didn’t look bad and while Farid cradled her gently, he peeked behind her back.

“It’s gone through. I can get it out, we’ll have to push it through.” Farid said, looking up at Jorwen.

“Do it, then.” Jorwen said, watching Sagax struggle for every inch closer to the walls he got that ladder, “I’ll be getting one of those ladders.”

Farid snapped the fletching end of the arrow off before putting a reassuring hand on Roze’s shoulder, “It’s going to hurt like a bitch. Ready yourself.” With that, they nodded to each other and Farid began pushing the shaft slow as slow through Roze and her pained whimpering. It took some time, but he’d gotten it through, the only thing left to do now was stop the bleeding. For that, ripped a generous portion of his shirt and tied it around Roze’s shoulder as best he could. “You’ll be out of archery for a while. Sorry, doll.” He said, before he followed after Jorwen.

Jorwen had none too gently dragged Sagax along the minute he had the ladder in his big hands. He wasted no time in getting the hefty ladder to the palisade as the others went up around him. He roared as he practically threw his end of the ladder against the wall and slapped Sagax on the back, “Climb, boy.”

By then, they’d gotten through the gates. His eyes looked around for Cleftjaw or Thrice-Pierced, White-Eye would probably be the last to go through at the end of the line. Smart man. He spotted White-Eye bleeding from a cut in his shoulder that yawned open each time he hefted the body he was carrying towards the healer on the sidelines, hidden behind a rock next to his favorite man, Cat-Kicker. He jogged towards White-Eye and caught up with him, “What unlucky lad-” He realized just who it was that White-Eye was dragging with him.

“Ch-charged…”White-Eye looked up at him and his mouth moved but no words came out after. There would need to be some words over his grave, and he’d have Ashav’s cock on a pike before he let Thrice-Pierced share a mass grave. He’d earned his name by being the hardest man to kill, but he guessed it all caught up to him in the end. “We’ll kill them.” White-Eye muttered, “We’ll kill them, we’ll kill them and burn the fucking Reach!” White-Eye screamed as he let Thrice-Pierced lay in his last resting place on the sdelines.

“Get in that fucking breach!” Cat-Kicker roared. His wounds in no way impeded his ability to seethe with anger.

“I plan to.” And he turned around as Farid jogged up to him. He saw White-Eye striding towards the broken gate with a purpose, whole left arm red with blood from his wound. He caught him and held him fast with both hands, “I won’t have you going in there and dying. Thrice-Pierced is dead, you won’t help him by following after. He’s in Sovngarde now probably telling Tsun to suck his cock.”

“Fine. But I won’t be far behind you.” White-Eye spat blood and Jorwen saw he’d lost a couple teeth.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jorwen knew what White-Eye was feeling because he felt it too. Every step towards the redoubt,  he felt both sadness and anger. A few times he thought he’d be wiping away tears, a few times he thought he’d be breaking into a sprint and adding some more red to his name like when he was younger and stronger. A few others steps, maybe even every other step, he wanted to drop his weapons and walk away. Walk all the way back to Markarth and just forget what he’d seen. He stopped next to Thrice-Pierced’s body and knelt down. He closed the man’s eyes, wild with bloodlust even in death, then he slapped him across the face, “You stupid shit! You stupid, stupid shit, you!” He got to his feet and sliced a branch off of a gnarled, leafless tree with his seax.

“Let’s go, Red-Bear.” Farid said, patting his shoulder. “Let’s go. Tell Ashav what we saw, we’re through the breach.”

Jorwen rubbed his eyes and picked his shield back up, taking in a shuddering breath. He took his moment before speaking. He didn’t know if he could trust his voice, but when he could, he said, “You can go back, little one. Easy money, aye?”

“What?” Farid said, his face screwed up with confusion. He’d heard Jorwen, but he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, probably. Jorwen couldn’t, and he’d said it.

“Go back, tell him we’re through. We’ll catch up with you.” Jorwen pushed past Farid and went through. Not five steps in, he caught an arrow near the edge of his shield and covered himself with the rest of it as he moved with the others. The Wolf-Tooth was leading the contingent, but he only got a glimpse of her. Another arrow from the archer on the wall thudded into his shield and he peeked out from behind it in time for Cleftjaw to come out of the shadows and thud his knife into the side of the man’s neck and push him off the wall as the rest of the men who’d come up the ladders set themselves upon the enemy there. He looked back and pushed through the shieldwall towards Sevine. He’d finally caught up to her and saw the remains of an arrow sticking out of her, though it was to be said it looked like she had no thoughts of stopping just because she had some iron in her, “You’re hurt, little sister.” Jorwen did his best to smile, given how the day was going already. The sun hadn’t even risen and so many dead, one friend gone.