I woke from that nightmare with my hands clenched tightly. My own fingers clawed into my palms, the tips like small razors biting into my skin. Pain isn't the best feeling when you first open your eyes, but it's the one thing that lets you know right away that you're still alive. With a deep breath of the salt air I could almost taste the bits of smoke from the fire as it finally had died out. The sun was rising up from the coastline, and it took me a moment to realize I'd been asleep for almost a day. It was a wonder the Makrura hadn't returned to carry me off like the others, and I cursed myself for the stupidity of thinking it safe. Maybe a part of me didn't care for the safety, and just wanted the rest above all. I mulled that thought through my brain as I watched the crescent shaped marks in my palms slowly close up. The scent of my own blood was as repugnant as any of the fowl creatures I'd come across time and again, and I wiped it away on a ragged piece of my coat. I threw it into the fire, letting the embers take the material with them.
When I finally emerged from the little cave that had been my hideaway I was able to see the coastline for the first time. The light from the rising sun cast everything with a tinge of orange, but I could make out bits of wreckage and what remained of some of the bodies. Bits and pieces were scattered around, from boats and people alike, and I began to make out details of the Horde remains as well. Walking among the dead was never an easy thing, especially when ever sense you had screamed at the assault. I could see every detail of a slice along a neck, the green skin of an orc puffy and decaying. The smell overruled everything else, and I had to fight the urge to heave my empty stomach. As revolting as it was, something about the smell drew my attention. I peered closer at the Orc's neck, and noticed the skin around the cut was mottled and had formed boils along the edge.
My own voice shocked me as it touched the air, the sound haggard and dry like the desert. I briefly considered dunking my head beneath the shore, but if the salt wasn't enough to leave me sick the ichor-stain that lay across its surface would have sent me running. Still I pressed on and let my eyes wander around the scene. Chunks of wood, burnt from the explosion but soaked now, floated in. Larger parts that hadn't sunk were caught in the deeper sand, but I couldn't tell whether they came from our ship or theirs. As I replayed the events that'd stranded me over again in my head I nearly missed something that should have jumped out immediately. Foot prints wandered in a lazy manner away from the waters edge, the deeper impressions of a man's knees having already nearly washed away with the tide. I lost them briefly as I found the edge where the grasslands met the beach, but I found them again a short while later. That's when I saw the blood.
It was stretched across a few blades of grass every few feet, and already turning brown as it dried. The rain made a damned fine hunt to keep its course, and when I found its end all that waited for me was disappointment. Hoofprints scattered a stretch of empty grass, the dirt kicked up and muddy from the rain the other night. The trail lead away and towards the mountains in the distance, the scattered peaks tipped with snow and the haze of fog as it rolled in. That was when I noticed the faint taste of gunpowder on the wind, and as my eyes fell back to the dirt I saw a tiny little thing half hidden beneath the mud. With a groan I reached for it, and plucked a tooth from under the surface. Muddy and still holding a bit of the man it'd come from I could almost feel the heat rising up in my chest.
"Don't usually take a trophy less I kill th'thing, but for ye y'bastard, I'll make'n exception. Best hope I don' find ye..."
I could already feel my feet carrying me in the direction of the tracks. There was little chance I'd be able to pick up their trail once I reached the base of the mountain, the snow was already thick and covering most of the path ahead. I figured, though, that as the only sign of life out here thus far there was a fair chance a town lay somewhere in that direction, and with any luck a bit of food and water. I still ached from head to toe, and the only decent weapon I had on me was myself. The pistol I'd waved at the beast the other night was shot, the spring in the hammer all but worthless. So with nothing but the ragged leathers and a hat I made my way towards the summit, willing each step toward whatever lay ahead.
"Been through worse y'lil shite, didn't make it through tha' t'give up now...got a promise t'keep."
