His last hope...
Posted: Mon Aug 12, 2013 10:31 pm
It has been a long and exhausting journey. His return to these lands consisted of miles upon miles of limping along long and narrow paths packed down by wild animals and the odd orc warrior. His feet were swollen, his face was battered, and he walked as though he may collapse at any given moment...
Rincoe’s eyes felt sewn shut. His body was limp. He heard the wind picking up and the crackle of thunder in the distance. The rain had not yet started to fall although the air felt thick and moist. Rincoe put what remained of his energy towards opening his eyes. He was lying on his stomach and as he looked in front of him he saw that there was a larger path that appeared to be more heavily travelled. With all of his might, Rincoe moaned and grunted as he attempted to pick himself up from the Earth’s floor. As the pain seared through his arms he screamed while continuing to raise himself higher. Realizing that getting to his feet was not a possibility, he began crawling towards the road, dragging his legs that had never felt heavier behind him.
He wanted to stop and lay there; he was both mentally and physically exhausted yet he continued to crawl towards his last hope. The rain started to come down. Waterlogged and nearing what seemed to be certain death, Rincoe would not give in; he scratched and pulled at anything his hands could grab onto in order to continue moving towards the road which he was getting surprisingly closer to.
The thunder rumbled and the rain was now coming down in sheets. The ground became so muddy it was impossible to crawl any further. Rincoe flailed his limbs yet he failed to gain any forward movement in the process. His muscles were useless. He fell into an unconscious state, face down in the muddy grass within a few strides of the path.
The lighting split a tree nearby. Thunder rumbled through the forest as the rain continued to pour...
The next thing he remembers is waking up in the Healer’s hut in Britain bandaged and shivering with two men and a woman standing around the bed in which he laid...
Rincoe’s eyes felt sewn shut. His body was limp. He heard the wind picking up and the crackle of thunder in the distance. The rain had not yet started to fall although the air felt thick and moist. Rincoe put what remained of his energy towards opening his eyes. He was lying on his stomach and as he looked in front of him he saw that there was a larger path that appeared to be more heavily travelled. With all of his might, Rincoe moaned and grunted as he attempted to pick himself up from the Earth’s floor. As the pain seared through his arms he screamed while continuing to raise himself higher. Realizing that getting to his feet was not a possibility, he began crawling towards the road, dragging his legs that had never felt heavier behind him.
He wanted to stop and lay there; he was both mentally and physically exhausted yet he continued to crawl towards his last hope. The rain started to come down. Waterlogged and nearing what seemed to be certain death, Rincoe would not give in; he scratched and pulled at anything his hands could grab onto in order to continue moving towards the road which he was getting surprisingly closer to.
The thunder rumbled and the rain was now coming down in sheets. The ground became so muddy it was impossible to crawl any further. Rincoe flailed his limbs yet he failed to gain any forward movement in the process. His muscles were useless. He fell into an unconscious state, face down in the muddy grass within a few strides of the path.
The lighting split a tree nearby. Thunder rumbled through the forest as the rain continued to pour...
The next thing he remembers is waking up in the Healer’s hut in Britain bandaged and shivering with two men and a woman standing around the bed in which he laid...