Waiting for Spring - Part I

Chapter Five

Ser Logan, dead. My squire, young Feron, dead. Dame Melissa, dead. Her squire, Palmar, dead. Gregor, Patrick, Lilith. Dying. Mason is barely keeping it together. He had to take my foot. Damn that woman knight. One misstep and her humongous sword cut off half of my toes.

This part of the wall is forsaken. No hope. The next attack will be the end of us. I fear it will come at dawn. I hear screams and fires in the distance. Once they called me Ser Loghain the Starspear. Now my family heirloom seems to have lost all its glitter, the sapphire and amethysts are long gone, and I am but another lost soul waiting to die.

-Lord Loghain of Lakekeep's last words, found scribbled on a piece of parchment, Ward.

The weeks continued as usual. Hunting parties regularly journeyed into the woods and some of the men had returned with goods from the nearby city, Mill. Autumn had started to show too, leaving a cascade of colours on the ground amidst the pine trees' fallen needles. The moon now ruled over the sun, leaving little time that one could spend in the warm sunlight during the days. Soon the snow would come and it would have no mercy. Snow would cover everything and the remaining leaves would turn livery.

April's mother always called autumn the season of art. She used to stand outside the house and paint, trying to catch that very moment the leaves fell to the ground. Some of her paintings still adorned the interior, but many she had taken with her when she departed.

The bed was warm, yet April was freezing. The woollen quilt had fallen to the floor. Her morning routine remained unchanged. Outside the forest still waited for sunup. Why she had woken up was a mystery. She rubbed her eyes, but could not recall anything in specific. A sound maybe? Or the cold?

She shrugged and took stock of her small room. Her leathers were once again lying on the wooden floor, the pieces scattered all over it. The belonging straps were hanging on her mirror in the corner. She tiptoed over to her reflection as to not wake Dylan downstairs. She leaped over that particular floorboard that always creaked and continued to the mirror. A woman looked back at her from the other side of the glass. Her grey eyes were her mother's; her hair was her father's.

April picked up a comb made of bone. Tenderly she combed the hair that had tousled itself during the night. Blonde hair was a rare sight in Idwallia in general. April and her father was the only one in the village. April could not say that she was disappointed; at least something was unique about her; at least something made her nubile. The comb entangled itself in her hair and a moue appeared upon her red lips as she tried to unravel it.

After she was done combing her hair she sat down on her bed again. It was cold. The sun had begun to rise on the horizon. April had no idea what she was supposed to do nowadays. The supply was teeming with food as well as other rations and most houses had a sufficing amount of firewood. She had spent quite a lot of days just sleeping and eating, talking to her old man over a goblet of wine or tea, polishing her bow or making more arrows to the quiver. Anything that consumed time was most welcome.

She hadn't spoken to Carwyn much, just a few words when necessary. Only once had they had a worthwhile conversation, but it had pretty much just led to emptiness. Carwyn was sad, he had told her that he had felt forlorn and miserable the days that had passed. Pity did not come easy. It's not his decision. Sometimes she wished the circumstances were different. Life would have been so much easier were in not for his proposal. It was not Carwyn who was forlorn; it was the whole situation.

The scream came back once again, this time it was crystal clear. It seemed to come from afar. The horrified shriek echoed in the distance. April gazed out the window, her eyes peering out into the woods. It was hard to see anything out there in the murky forest; but if her sight did not lie there were nothing to be seen. She shrugged before continuing downstairs in a simple dress. It was probably nothing, maybe just an animal. She could not repress the feeling that it was a human, male voice though. It had been so apparent.