A Sense of Longing

A leather-gloved hand wiped the black blood from monsters off of a tanned face. The other hand pulled the fabric off of its wearer's nose and a sigh escaped his lips.

Henry looked at the battlefield in front of him and felt satisfied with the amount of goblin and dire wolf bodies at his feet. He hadn't been in a good mood lately and he needed as much stress relief as he could possibly get.

Before he could start stacking up the bodies and burning them, he looked up at the sky and enjoyed the rays of the evening sun on his face.

The monsters seemed to prefer this time of day lately. The sun was setting and it wasn't as hot as it was during midday.

Skirmishes kept happening more and more and Henry felt relieved that Rosalind and the other maids left when they did. He wouldn't have wanted her to be there to witness all of the carnage.