The Strong Prey On The Weak
Raziel stepped into the medium-sized stone building, immediately hit by the potent scent of medicinal herbs and concoctions.
The atmosphere was solemn, with men and women moving quietly in and out and greeting him on the way, their expressions a mix of concentration and concern.
Turning towards the hall, Raziel's breath caught in his throat at the sight before him. Ten of his fellow tribe members, both men and women and the bravest people he knew lay on soft sheets, their bodies wrapped in bandages.
The sight of familiar faces, now marred by injury and pain, tightened Raziel's chest.
Some slept, a merciful escape from their pain, while others sat up, their bodies too weakened to move.
The severity of their injuries, evident in missing limbs and heavily bandaged bodies, reminded him once more how dangerous it was outside.