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32nd of October. Ink and blood, for I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep..

She found Raido under the great dūir tree, pinned to the trunk by a broken spear. Seeing the scattered bodies and cracked weapons, Leithe beheld the battle as if she had stood in the midst of it. Screams and commands. Rain, mud and mist. And a warrior, tall and thin, pale, unarmored, resembling a wolfskin wraith of old tales, lashing between his foes with cold fury, breaking their formations, taking life and limb. Coordinated and practiced, well-equipped hunters trying and failing to contain their prey.

She ran up to the tree, holding Raido, tilting his head up, peering into his blooded and mudded face, looking for any signs of life desperately..

The two Vraine lords lay slain nearby - one cut down some twelve feet away, Wanderer's blade still stuck in the corpse. The other barely two paces from the tree. Leithe had glanced at his wound then at Raido's chin and chest covered in blood, the final moments of the battle rising vividly before her.

The Vrain holding a broken spear..
Raido, wounded, able to hold himself up only by leaning against the great dūir..
A mighty thrust..
Raido, not trying to escape the blade, but with a growl grabbing at his foe and pulling him close. He slew the Vrain lord with his teeth, tearing away a piece of his throat..

Leithe's eyes had welled, vision blurred. She stood there, forehead pressed against Wanderer’s chest. Geathan had bumped his head into Raido’s shin several times and pulled at his boot, whining softly..
Thud. Barely there. Leithe rather sensed than heard it. Her eyes shot wide. For the first time she noticed Raido’s fingers, locked in a strange position and a rune inscribed on the bark in blood under his right palm. She had leaped to the fallen Vrain and frantically started tearing his rich cloak for bandages.

#raido
#raidothebook

Description

32nd of October. Ink and blood, for I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep..

She found Raido under the great dūir tree, pinned to the trunk by a broken spear. Seeing the scattered bodies and cracked weapons, Leithe beheld the battle as if she had stood in the midst of it. Screams and commands. Rain, mud and mist. And a warrior, tall and thin, pale, unarmored, resembling a wolfskin wraith of old tales, lashing between his foes with cold fury, breaking their formations, taking life and limb. Coordinated and practiced, well-equipped hunters trying and failing to contain their prey.

She ran up to the tree, holding Raido, tilting his head up, peering into his blooded and mudded face, looking for any signs of life desperately..

The two Vraine lords lay slain nearby - one cut down some twelve feet away, Wanderer's blade still stuck in the corpse. The other barely two paces from the tree. Leithe had glanced at his wound then at Raido's chin and chest covered in blood, the final moments of the battle rising vividly before her.

The Vrain holding a broken spear..
Raido, wounded, able to hold himself up only by leaning against the great dūir..
A mighty thrust..
Raido, not trying to escape the blade, but with a growl grabbing at his foe and pulling him close. He slew the Vrain lord with his teeth, tearing away a piece of his throat..

Leithe's eyes had welled, vision blurred. She stood there, forehead pressed against Wanderer’s chest. Geathan had bumped his head into Raido’s shin several times and pulled at his boot, whining softly..
Thud. Barely there. Leithe rather sensed than heard it. Her eyes shot wide. For the first time she noticed Raido’s fingers, locked in a strange position and a rune inscribed on the bark in blood under his right palm. She had leaped to the fallen Vrain and frantically started tearing his rich cloak for bandages.

#raido
#raidothebook