Frorenholm

And soon towards the end of the journey, we found the sun fall passed the horizon. We decided to set up camp, and head to the city the next day. I don't think it had been this quiet in a long time. Though, I wasn't contributing much either, rather thinking countless thoughts and scenarios of the chaos that had ensued just a few days ago.

Werewolves really brought out the worst in me.

The crackling flames, danced as if without a care in the world. Shining brighter with every stick and log it could consume. Only growing as it trampled and ate the wood that it had originated from.

Scott simply polished his sword, cleaning off the blood that had piled on, while Isolla was sitting against a tall tree.

Walking up to her, I noticed a small piece of wood being carved out.

"What's that?", I asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just a habit I have from when I was a little girl, I like to make small sculptures of animals when I'm stressed".

"Why sculpting of all things?", I was curious, I don't think she had ever talked about her childhood, or anything at all that she had done in the past. So I decided to delve deeper.

I soon realised that actually, I barely knew her at all. Though the three of us were together for 2 years, I hardly knew the both of them.

"My dad was an aristocrat, he wanted me to be the spitting image of a lady, but I found myself fall in love with sculpting. Something he thought was for the poor and riffraff", she took a deep breath. "I eventually had to stop, but I couldn't just fall out of love".

"That's enough of that, you should get some rest before tomorrow", she smiled, though I had spent enough time with her to know at least, that this was forced.

Choosing to stop there, I returned to where I was sat before.

The rest of that night was quiet.

- - - - -

The sky looked a cloudy grey. A gloomy atmosphere that truly matched the scene before me.

On the outside of the walls, all seemed quiet and peaceful. As if not a thing had happened over these past few days. The gate however, had been broken to pieces. Indicating that they had charged straight through.

Houses were left broken and desecrated, collapsing in on themselves. The dark char of fire, present on the wooden beams that held them up. The cold corpses of lost soldiers who died, were laid bare and bloody amongst the very people they tried to protect.

A few of the people who had survived the attack, were sitting lifelessly, staring to the sky with no sun. As if asking the gods why they had to endure such suffering, and why they were left alive.

I imagined what would have been a once bustling atmosphere. Children giggling as they laughed and played. Running through the streets. Their parents smiling behind them.

Though my gaze soon fell upon a man, who stood in complete silence. Like a statue, he remained unmoving, seemingly as if he were contemplating something, his eyes cast down upon the rubbled streets and broken glass. Though as if a wave of understanding had come over him, he crouched down to the ground.

Reaching out to grab a piece of shattered glass, he stood up once more.

By this point, I had realised what he had been trying to do.

Rushing towards him, my legs darted back and forth, trying to reach him in time. My heart beating so fast, it might've jumped out of my chest. One more push!

"NO!"

A warm splatter of blood, hit the cold floor. The man's body dropping to the ground, his hands gripping his throat, gasping for air. While his body spasmed, as if boldly displaying the last bit of life it had in it, it had soon and abruptly stopped. It had ended just as quick as it began.

My gaze lowered, I couldn't think for a good few seconds. Only being pulled back into reality by the sudden sensation of water; I had felt a raindrop hit my hand.

Then another drop, and another one. Soon, it had started raining.

Scott, approached me from the side. Gripping my shoulder.

"He probably had a wife, children, a mother and father", he bit his lip. "We can only hope to avenge the people he's lost... the people they've all lost".

"I saw you run to stop him, you did good".

I don't know if I was crying or if it was simply the rain dripping down my cheeks. But I could feel a sharp pain, in my chest.

"Come, we need to help the others, Issola's already tending to them".

Looking to the side, my eyes caught a glint of metal. Curious, I approached the corpse. Their body, so disfigured, I couldn't even tell if they were a man or woman. As if the creature that had killed him, toyed with him, before eventually finishing him off. The clothes, looked like that of a soldier, torn and ripped to shreds. Crouching down, I found the source of the glint. A small dog tag. Pulling it up to take a closer look. I read out the name, Ben Gordam.

It was Sam's friend. I gripped the tag firmly. Should I tell him? Should I just let him have the little hope he kept in his heart? What was the right decision?

I didn't know. Stashing it away in my bag, I walked back, trying to catch up to Scott.

Issola pulled out her weird concoction, applying it to the wounded. I wrapped some cloth around the more serious wounds.

Scott, helped the injured who couldn't walk, come over to us, carrying or supporting them where necessary.

All in all, I counted about 10 survivors. Though this was just a small section of the city, it was still shocking how little had been left standing.

Some travellers, who had also come to help, had brought supplies such as food and water. They were a big help.

After a few days of rest, most of the refugees had decided to either return to their hometowns or villages; anywhere they were welcome. Those who hadn't anywhere to go, followed us back to the previous town.

- - - - -

"Monarch, the werewolves have decided to start acting on their own", a figure dressed in dark red robes, bowed in deep respect at the foot of the stairs.

The silhouette of a majestic body, looked down upon the messenger, seemingly disinterested.

"Leave them be, let the wolves kill and eat what they like. The humans will soon fight back anyways. Notify the generals to standby until both sides are weakened. Then... we strike", the monarch stood up, walking down the stairs. "Tell them, they better not disappoint me".

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I don't know what to write here now honestly. I like this more than the weird thing at the bottom for author's notes. Just feels better for some reason.