Evening Frost

Chapter One - When the Blood Dries

It was 19th of November around 6am. I saw how the sun started rising from behind the great hills. I got up from the ground and placed my hand above my eyes and squinted. Two men were walking towards our camp down from the valley. It took me a while to realise who these men were. Soon it hit me. The black and red clothing, the looks on their faces... I quickly turned around and picked up my weapon. They saw my actions but instead of going defence, pulled out a white flag to stop me. This behaviour startled me. What were they trying to do? Were they tricking us? Did they have daggers under their belts? Were they attracting my attention to secretly have somebody backstab me? I quickly threw my arm across my back expecting a murderer but there was nothing. The hot and stuffy air I was breathing suddenly felt a lot heavier. My jaw tensed up. My hand clutched onto my weapon as I saw the men slowly walking up the hill towards the camp. I looked behind me at my sleeping men. I had lead them kilometres and kilometres away from their base camp and almost gotten them killed the day before. I wouldn't let it happen again. I readied my weapon and aimed at the two men. With no hesitation or guilt, I let go of the arrow. I admired as it flew across the trees and rocks of the valley. Finally it hit the enemy. I was so close to hitting the left corner of where his heart pumped. I bit my lip and drew back my weapon once again. The man left alive touched his brother and with a frightened but nasty look, dropped his white flag and walked away, carefully staying behind rocks and hills to make sure I didn't kill him.

I turned back to the main camp. A few men had been woken by the sunlight and the sound of my weapon. "What's happening?" they asked, but I did not answer. My men were used to silence. I only spoke what was necessary and there was nothing to say. I turned to the men and looked into their eyes. They knew what I wanted from them. "Danger." one of them translated to the others. "We should get our weapons ready".

I walked down to the valley. The white flag laid there, now grey and bloody. The dead enemy's corpse lied next to it, cold and still. The black and red clothing had ripped apart just enough to see a glance of the man's face. The blue eyes were wide open and screamed for mercy and help. I couldn't help but kneel down and glare at them. A few seconds later, I lifted my eyes up from the man to his clothing. They were dirty and dusty. The chest had a massive, dried blood stain on it. I walked forward and pulled the arrow out of his chest, wiped it onto his clothing and then put it onto my belt along with the other arrows. Soon I got up and walked back up, strength and cold heartedness in my eyes. Some men were still asleep. With no shame, I pulled out the mattresses of those men, leaving them either falling onto the cold and muddy ground or lying on the wooden planks of the bed. I snapped my fingers as a sign of disappointment in their disobedient behaviour. Looking back, these men had been commanded to wake up an hour later than what the clock showed at the time.

I saw my men getting ready for defence from the corner of my eye as I was sharpening my arrows. One of them was severely wounded from the night before. He had trouble keeping up with the others due to the injuries. I lowered the arrow I was holding and walked up to the man.

"You're slow." I said.

"I apologise, ma'am, my right arm is severely injured. It hurts to raise it." he responded in a quite scared and anxious tone. He was suffering.

I looked at him, knowing he was speaking the truth. I went back to my arrows and picked one up. Then I, as if casually, slid his left cheek's skin open.First he gasped for air, then let out a light and almost silent howl of pain. I threw the bloody arrow on the ground and walked away, leaving my men in fright of my strictness and unpredictability. I could see it on their faces, even from the corner of my eye. I knew them and I knew what I did needed to be done.

I saw nothing as I looked into the valley. Only a few birds and trees. No black and red armoured men. No arrows flying towards us in a rapid pace. No war cries. No sound at all. My forehead wrinkled up a little and I grew fearful of what was happening. First the two men, what does all this mean? Not once did it visit my mind that I might be safe. That thought would have made me feel weak and gullible. The two things I was fighting against with all I had. I lowered my hand from my forehead and stood there, trying to think but I could not. Not a single thought came up. I tried to understand why there was no noise but I could not. My mind was simply empty, out of ideas, blank. Suddenly I knew what to do. It was highly unlikely that these two men in the morning would have had a message to deliver but I decided to walk and search the dead man's clothing regardless. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the bottom of the valley where he lied. The pocket held nothing. Only a piece of bread and a low-cost pen. The pocket however, held a folded piece of paper hidden under the man's jacket. I searched the rest of his body, but found nothing at all. I quickly hid the folded note inside my right sleeve and climbed back up to the camp. I got a strong feeling of satisfaction and control as I saw my men standing by the hills, ready to defend one another.

I silently stepped inside the base of my camp, lighting a small oil lamp. Then I dug out the note and unfolded it.