Robber Royale: Fairytale of a Thief and a Scoundrel

Consequences

Letting Trake down carefully, Fox stood facing the danger, keeping watch; stealing glances down at Gaelian as she looked Trake over, hearing her worried whimpers.

"Oh no no no no no..." She repeated over and over again quietly, as her hands roved the length of his body, searching for something to fix; some way to help...some way to make it better.

Looking back up, Fox saw the battle was finally coming to an end, the last of Uldien's men retreating as they could, Boar sending men after them to run them down or run them off; others to scout the perimeter, making sure it really was over. Still, there was some fighting nearby, some stray arrows, so Fox stayed where he was for the moment.

"Trake." She said, almost crying. "Oh Trake. This is all my fault. Please be alright, please be alright." She spoke while beginning to tear a strip of material from the bottom of her tunic to wrap his wound. Carefully she lifted his head, cradling it in one arm as she wrapped it up with the other. Suddenly he winced, making her pause.

"Trake?" She asked again, more hopefully.

He blinked, looking up, then shutting his eyes again, doing this a few more times before finally squinting at Gaelian enough to recognize her.

"Gaelian?" He asked, his voice only a hoarse whisper. He seemed confused by why he was where he was and, suddenly realizing that where he was was in Gaelian's arms, he became even more confused, even a little alarmed as his eyes flitted over to Fox's.

She laughed in relief, allowing him to weakly push himself away from her, Fox looking down and smiling, relieved as well. Around them the fighting had stopped, the villagers turning instead to finding each other and assessing their situation.

It was over.

Weakness swept over Fox and he tried to sit down by Gaelian, mostly collapsing as he went, finding himself on his back instead of his seat once he was done; Gaelian turning her worry on him now.

He felt her hands on him, heard her tearing more of her clothes and his own, felt as she bound his wounds securely, his shoulder, his leg, and a few others he hadn't had time to notice yet...well not until she touched them and he realized they stung like The Cliffs. Finally, she lay down beside him, her head resting against his good shoulder.

"We'll need to clean those." She said wearily, "But it should do for now, stop the bleeding at least."

Trake, after attempting to sit up, had lain back down again, he on Gaelian's other side. They simply laying where they were, unable to move, unable to help with the wounded, to help with the clean-up, to help with the finding of loved ones, putting out of fires, assessing of supplies. Unable even to help themselves.

Fox found he couldn't even feel all the emotions he knew he should; relief, terror...reliving the past several hours. Gaelian had survived, he had survived, he should be feeling something about that he knew. But all he could muster was tiredly leaning her closer into himself and kissing her on the head. As time passed, his other men found their way to them, all of them huddling together, sharing the wine flasks that women were bringing around to everyone, tending to each other's wounds; sometimes they slept.

It was nearly evening before he sat up with any sort of energy behind it, though his body still protested; for how weak it was, he was surprised it still managed to protest so strongly! Out in the open field ahead of them, several campfires had been set up with large cauldrons above them, just beginning to steam, and his stomach, which had been silent all this time, lurched with hunger. Apparently, the villagers were all making a communal meal of sorts, to accommodate all those in need, and he had no intention of missing out on that.