8 for mirroth!
Errich woke with a start, hand flying to the sword at his side. It was only when his tired eyes registered Ch’aarley’s face, lips pulled down in exhaustion, that his heart began to slow. They were not under attack. They were safe. For now.
Errich stood up and stepped out of the tent they had set up, hearing the thin blanket shuffle against the dirt as Ch’aarley laid down. All was silent after that brief sound, save for the crackling of the fire.
Dreg sat with his back to the fire, the light reflecting off his cloak and revealing the thin strands of thread making up near invisible eyes, covering the back of the cloak. Merah laid around his neck, tail tucked under her head with the flames reflecting in her eyes. Errich sat on the other side of the fire, a little to the left so he wasn’t directly in the small dragon’s line of sight.
His sword rested in his lap, a dark stain against one edge that wouldn’t leave no matter how much Errich attempted to clean it. This fact did not stop him from drawing a rag from his pocket and running it along the blade. His eyes drifted up as he worked, staring into the woods surrounding them.
“Thank you.” Those words broke the silence, though how long it had been Errich did not know. His hand paused on the blade, but he didn’t turn around.
“You would have done the same.” As the words left his mouth, he paused. Errich had not known Dreg for a month at this point, and the goblin had done nothing to make him believe he would be willing to lay his life on the line for the party. But Errich still believed his words to be true.
Dreg did not speak again for a while, the only sound the crackling fire between the two. Errich set aside his sword, dark spot still shining brightly, and reached into the leather pouch at his side, pulling out a small knife and a scrap of leather. An embroidered design ran across the length of the scrap, and the edges along half of it had been carved, frayed to look like a feather. Errich pressed the knife along the edge, but he could not bring himself to make a new cut.
“Why were you so against traveling through the mountains?” Dreg’s voice startled Errich more this time, his knife slipping and slicing the leather in half.
Errich thought he could feel his teeth crack as he clenched his jaw, his fists balled as he stared at the ruined piece in his lap. He felt his voice, hollow in his throat, slip into the air around him.
“I lost someone there.” He could see his father’s smiling face at the dinner table. Verelle rolling her eyes at some corny joke, but he could see the smile tugging at her lips. Yoris helping their mother serve the food. His uncles and aunts are gathered around. The flash of a silver blade being brought down, and the deep red of blood mixing into the earth at his feet.
“I didn’t even do anything. I couldn’t.” Tears welled in his eyes, though Errich made no move to wipe them away. He let them fall, carving a path down his face and dripping onto the broken leather.
“I’ve lost people, too. I think.” His voice was soft, like a breeze, so unusual for his often blunt demeanor. Errich twisted in place to see his companion.
Dreg still sat with his back against the fire, and in his hands was the shriveled ear he wore on his neck. Errich fought down a familiar wave of discomfort at the sight and moved his gaze to Dreg’s face. He seemed almost wistful, but the moment passed and the ear dropped from his hand, bouncing once off his chest before it rested against his skin.
“I woke up surrounded by corpses, and I still don’t know why I am alive. I don’t think I ever will. There is nothing I can do to change it.” Dreg turned his head, looking at Errich out of the corner of his eye, and Errich swore he could see the beginnings of a tear.
“We can’t change the past. We can’t erase it. Even if we don’t remember it. We just have to accept it, and try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
