Fifty-four - Returning to the main battlefield

She sat down a little way away when the flies started to gather on the carcass to catch her breath. A sound came from behind her and her eyes met with the eyes of a woman whose clothes were torn and who was also covered with blood. They nodded at each other.

"Mind if I take this?" The woman picked up a bow and quiver of arrows, glancing at the body of the centaur that had been hamstrung and left to bleed out. Stacey hadn't realised earlier but that wailing girl had also cut the tendons of the centaur's arms.

Stacey just made a 'go ahead' gesture.

"Thanks," the woman said, undoing her headscarf and combing back her short, sweat soaked hair. She tied the headscarf back in place so that her hair wouldn't get in her face.

"Not my kill," Stacey shrugged, holding her chest with one hand and rubbing her head with her other. She pointed at the headless, bloody centaur behind her. "That one is."

The woman paused and nodded. Then after a long look, tilted her head.

"Isn't that the leader of the local beastmen? You should bring his head back to the battlefield to stop the battle. The beastmen will stop when they see their leader is dead."

"What about you?" Stacey asked.

"I'm going hunting," the woman gave a ferocious smile, showing her teeth in a snarl. There was a hard light in her eyes and a bloody killing intent that made Stacey feel glad she was not this woman's enemy. "I'm going to kill more of those bastards and bring back as many girls as I can."

"Good," Stacey gave a jerky nod and used the machete to help herself stand up. Finding her little knife, she stabbed it into the leather of the empty sheath of her bigger knife where it stuck and stayed. "Good luck. Happy hunting."

"Good luck to you too," the woman nodded and continued looting the centaur.

Stacey picked up the heavy head by the hair and held the machete in the other. Both were too heavy to hold properly. In the end, she used the machete as a walking stick, while she dragged the head behind her. The colourful headband came off the centaur's head, and so she held it in the same hand gripping a fistful of the thick, greasy hair.

It felt like a long walk, dragging this heavy head behind her. Her entire body hurt but her head and chest felt like they were burning. They ached and throbbed with each jarring step, making her feel more nauseous with every passing second. Or perhaps it was more like a thunderstorm in her body where lightning struck unpredictably. Sometimes, when she stumbled on the uneven ground, jolts of sharp pain would pierce through her, almost bringing her to her knees or causing her to pass out. She wanted to lay down and close her eyes, but there was still work to do. Stuff to get done. Someone she needed to find. If only she could remember.

Nevertheless, she continued what felt like a long trek through a never-ending plain to nowhere, surrounded by an unceasing cacophony.

Beastmen who passed by her paused to stare. When they paused, their kidnapped prizes would take the opportunity to free and avenge themselves where possible. Other battling humans took the opportunity to attack the beastmen who had stopped to stare. They helped free the stolen women and girls.

Stacey didn't really see them. They weren't threatening her and so weren't important. Keeping her feet and carrying the deadweights in her hands was hard enough when all she really wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Yet in order to prove that the centaur was dead and show that she had done her job, Stacey had to bring this head back for everyone still on the battlefield to see. She had a responsibility to end what she had begun.

Every beastman who saw the head with its colourful headband being dragged by her raised a howl. A shout. A roar. A cry. Not sounds of sadness. Some of fear, perhaps. Some were happy. Stacey wasn't sure. The sounds were all mashed together and didn't make any sense.

Her head whirled with a strangeness that was at once both terribly clear and bewilderingly unclear. Occasionally, she had to pause to reorient which way was up and remind herself where the sky or ground were. She could feel herself stagger and list to one side every now and then, before she could right herself. It felt tiring to have to constantly point important details out to herself.

That place with all those clouds of dust and noise was the battlefield. The battlefield was her destination. The sky was up. The ground was down. The town beyond was where people lived. Where she had lived. She was dragging a severed head. The head had to be taken to the battlefield. People needed to see the head. The machete in her arms was heavy but important for self defence. She shouldn't just drop the machete because it was too heavy.

Stacey took a painful but deep, shuddering breath to try and clear the fog in her mind. The deep breath didn't seem to help much. If anything, it triggered the pains in her chest and caused her breath to catch for a moment so that she could neither breathe in nor out. It caused a moment of panic until the pain passed enough for her to breathe again.