Cyrdic awoke in a sweat, fingers gripping what he knew to be dirt. The grass tickled his nose, and before he opened his eyes he could still smell the dew that had all but faded away into nothingness. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here, nor where here even was. Tall trees of yew, willow, and beech surrounded him, blooming out of a sea of bushes and vibrant ferns that had apparently been good at hiding his sleeping form. 

He perked his head and listened, the birds and wind rustling the leaves, the beetles on the crackling bark, the soft padding of hares in the brush. All were caught in his keen hearing, though it was still subtle. So many soft sounds, he found it hard to think or focus. All he knew was his head felt like someone had split it with an axe. 

Wait... 

Desperately he felt his abdomen, but could only feel hard muscle. He reached for the small of his back and again, he found no scar. Had he dreamed being run through? No, he hadn't. He remembered the sword point that had punched through his stomach. Segmented, his memory began to flood into him, and as a it did, he looked around the area he slept. 

Great mounds of dirt were torn as if by some massive hammer, and the tree he lay at had finger marks. Only...these marks had cut into the very wood. Not even iron tools could have done such a thing. They looked like bear marks. He remembered making them, and he remembered being in control of his actions. Somehow, he had felt the need to expend energy after having slaughtered the old Baron. He could still smell the stained blood. 

The sun was warm, but he realized that the night cold had not bothered him over much. Cyrdic's only clothing was his ruined trousers. He had taken his boots off in the night for a reason he couldn't recollect. How long had he been out here? He felt a thick goatee had grown on his chin and above his lip, and his hair had grown wild and unruly. He felt naked, though not because of a lack of clothing. He wanted his sword. Where was it? 

Camilla! Where was Camilla? 

He gave a rippling growl as he abruptly sat up, which caused a yelp from further down the way. It sounded like a man, and Cyrdic blinked the tiredness of his eyes as he heard soft footsteps approaching. "Ulric, Sigmar; Wolf and Hammer" he grumbled, his voice scratchy from having not spoken in God's knew how long. Or had he howled last night? The Ostland man got to his feet, taking in a deep breath as a peasant man strode into view. 

Covered in mud and almost as wild haired as Cyrdic, the man fell back in shock upon seeing Cyrdic standing there, something which almost confused him until he realized finding half naked soldiers in the forest wasn't an everyday occurrence. The man fell onto his rump, scrambling backwards. It was all Cyrdic could do to give a statement in broken Brettonian that he meant no harm. It did help a bit. The man stopped and asked Cyrdic what he wanted. 

"Clothes and a meal would be good." he replied. 

If only Cyrdic could see himself as the man saw him. Eyes of molten gold, and a sculpted physique even more powerful than he had been. All of this under a mane of wolfish hair. 

Two parts fearful of his life and one part awe led the man to bring Cyrdic back to his hovel of a village, which looked to be in even more poor condition than the usual Brettonian fief, with houses made of stone and roofs of naught but straw and some support beams to keep it up, and dried mud to stick it all together. But a well was in use in the center of the settlement, and most of the women and children were somewhat washed. It seemed the men and the younger lads were the ones that were mostly filled with grime. 

As Cyrdic was led into the small village, one woman screamed and fainted, and nothing simply stared, though out of fright or admiration at Cyrdic's bare chest it was hard to say. He was quickly led inside, his stomach now driving his entire mind and keeping its focus clear on the food he might get. It was a primal hunger. 

"You. lucky." the man said, scrambling through half broken out-of-use boxes, finding a cooked chicken and an apple. "Death in land. Suis capable' get food, oui?"
[@Penny]