Winter's Tree

28 - Battle

Ayessa crept through the woods, spear in hand. It was dusk, and the camp spread before them was so large it was impossible to see from one end to the other over the surrounding hills.

For three days, they had silently marched North and for three days the sky had poured down on them. Now, with the sun kissing the horizon, the rain had stopped and clouds of insects buzzed around her head. She tried not to let them distract her.

She glanced to her right and saw Obu behind the trunk of another birch. He crouched low, so the shadows would help conceal him.

They were the left flank, ready to sweep in and crush the enemy once the front center line drew them out.

She fingered the necklace at her throat. Eshemwa was at the front today. Something he had volunteered for, but not told her about until they split the lines this morning. She had been angry, but didn't have the time to argue with him in front of Obu and the people. A fact he had known and used to his advantage.

Oyeka was with Tuma on the right flank. Makaro was with them. She worried about him too, fearing if he died today, there would be too much left unsaid between them. They had been friends before they had been lovers, and she would regret not closing the wound that had opened between them should one of them not return.

A shout from the south drew her eyes back towards the camp. Smoke rose in the distance and before long, she could see flames licking the sky. It had begun.

She glanced towards Obu and nodded. He returned the gesture and signalled behind him for their hunters to ready themselves.

Another pillar of smoke rose, and then another. Pale skinned men and women stumbled out from the nearby tents and looked towards the commotion. Some hefted spears and knives and ran towards the fight, while others hung back, unsure.

Shouts came from the opposite end of the camp and some of the Northerners turned to look, confused and uncertain. Obu gave the signal and the left flank streamed out of the trees, cascading like an avalanche into the camp.

Ayessa's spear took an unsuspecting man in the back and another behind the knee. Flames were scooped from the campfires with sticks coated in animal fat and tents soon erupted in blazes of heat and smoke.

The screams filling the air told her not every tent had emptied. She closed her ears to the sound and swung her spear around just in time to thrust the tip through the throat of another man.

It went on for minutes, hours, days. Hack and slash. Slash and hack. The smell of blood and mud and burnt flesh filled her nose and suddenly it was all she could do not to vomit. Turning to the side, she didn't see the spear that took her in the back.

***

She awoke to the sound of birds. Her eyes gritty, like she hadn't slept in days, and when she tried to rise, a sharp pain in her shoulder her made her fall back with a groan.

"Careful," a voice said. "You don't want to re-open that wound."

The weighted sensation on her shoulder told her they had sealed the wound shut with mud so she did her best to lie still. Her eyes moved until they found Makaro's face.

She tried to speak, but her throat felt like it was coated with sand and the most she managed was a thin croak. Makaro leaned forward with his water skin, tipping it so warm liquid trickled down her throat.

"You had me worried," he said.

She wiped her mouth with the back of one shaky hand and found her voice. "What happened? Did we win?"

"We did."

There was something in the tightness of his face that gave her pause.

"How many did we lose?"