Warrior Hearts

Chaos

A/N: I just had to put this chapter out here as soon as I could. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I revelled in writing it. Happy reading!

Arjun's POV

Chaos. That's the apt word for what is encompassing me from all directions. This chaos, however, is not only pressing against me from all four corners of my exterior, but it is also stemming from the very depths of my body. I can feel it clawing its way up my front, and towards my throat, like a poison ivy that has a mind of its own; a predator whose next target is me. 

I need to get away from this chaos before it envelopes me whole. But instead of searching for an escape route, my feet are dragging me in no particular direction, and yet I seem to be jogging across the entirety of the field; in every which direction that I can find pockets of space in. My shoulders are brushing against - at times, slamming into muscular frames - but halting my movements is a thought that I refuse to entertain for the briefest of seconds. 

Without thinking, I inhale a deep breath in the hopes that a fresh lungful of air will fuel my steps, and pump energy into my fatigued muscles. Alas, instead of having the desired effect, the air burns my nostrils as it enters my body. Maybe because this lungful smells nothing like how air should. Instead, it's tinged with the residue vapours of blood; an odour that I would usually be unable to detect, but the excess of the liquid on the battleground and around me - staining our soldiers bodies - makes it the most prominent smell for acres and acres around us. 

So instead of breathing in through my nose, I implement a different method - sucking in a sharp breath from my mouth. Wincing, I realise my grave mistake at once. On its way down, the air scratches at the back of my dry throat like a bed of sharpened nails. But I refuse to halt and catch my breath, or consume so much as a drop of water. 

Where are you?  Similar to the couple hundred times that I've asked myself this question before, it remains unanswered. I must keep searching until I am able to feed myself the response I desire. I won't stop until then. All around me, the men of our army are lowering themselves, or their fellow injured brothers, to the ground. They're recovering from the after effects of the battle, their adrenaline dissipating with each passing second. I, on the other hand, am still well aware of the pumping blood in my ears, my feet using up the last remnants of adrenaline as they push me ahead. One step. Another. One more. I have no time to rest. My battle - my chaos - has yet to come to a conclusion. And it won't, not until I find her. 

"Your Highness, are you alright?" I'm unsure about who this concerned voice belongs to, and neither do I halt for an answer to my ignorance. I'm only aware that the man is located somewhere to my left, and that this isn't her voice. 

As I near the tents, the toe of my boot presses down on the corner of a makeshift stretcher, crafted from a rectangular white bedsheet. One of our men lies on it, his eyes tightly squeezed shut, a telltale sign of the pain that is pulsating through his veins. Briefly, I glance down at the bandage that is wrapped around his forehead; a piece of cloth that was once white, but is now soaked crimson. Without slowing my pace, I sidestep the stretcher and continue to make my way through our camp. 

My eyes bolt with inhuman speed from one tent's opening to the next. But she's nowhere to be found. With each passing second, the chaos increases its pressure against my sides; along the length of my arms, along my torso, and against either end of my head. Another minute and I doubt that I will be able to continue much further. I have to. I must. At least until I find her. There's no choice in this matter for me. As my eyes rake across the interior of the last two tents - one on either side of my body - I sway on my once steady feet, the chaos targeting my knees now. No, I won't allow them to buckle. I'd made a promise to myself before the battle commenced, and I fully intend on fulfilling it. My record is pristine. I have always followed through on my word, and this time shall be no different. It cannot be.