Cry For War

Chapter Thirteen

When daybreak finally came, Ephraim was the first to part the curtain of their makeshift tent, which in reality were their capes, draped at an angle over the Brave Princess's staff, which they'd forced between the thick branches of two pine trees. It wasn't much, but it was sturdy and kept them from freezing to death, so it was more than enough. Rather than meeting with the radiant glow of the sun that would make the snowy earth below glisten and shine, Ephraim was instead taken aback by the face of Celica, who had been standing  before the opening of their 'tent' in wait for such a maneuver.

"What were the two of you thinking, leaving us like that?" Celica proclaimed immediately, preparing herself to chastise the young king for his foolish abandonment, only to find herself looking over to the princess, who was still fast asleep inside, snuggled up into her own long hair, which had tangled slightly after whatever they'd done the night prior. As much as she'd wished to make a point, she simply couldn't bring herself to disrupt the slumber of their distinctly least comfortable member any further while she got some much needed rest. Had they not been on a mission, surely the King of Renais would have gotten quite the earful from her, but until they returned to the castle.

  "Had we not been able to find you, we could have frozen to death looking for you in this... this tundra!" The priestess was not one to yell often, but had they needed backup, their mission could have been jeopardized by this slip up. Whether he'd thought they'd be fine or not wasn't the point. It was the principal.

"With all due respect, Celica, she looked as though she was going to keel over and die if I didn't get her out of there. Something's wrong with her, and I have no doubt that it has something to do with that Loki character. She looked... I don't have the words to describe it. Like she'd seen a ghost," Ephraim tried to defend himself with his words, though this meant very little coming from a man who more often than not lacked any sort of emotional charge. "I've only seen a look like that once before... " he added after a moment of uncomfortable silence, only to have himself disrupted by the armored Ostian who pried open the makeshift tent.

"I still don't understand her. How does someone so frail become... that brat?" Hector dared, "Or the other way, I guess. How did that thing become her?" he questioned as he stared down at the sleeping woman. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but rather he had questions as to how this had ever happened at all. Why was it her that had been called to this world, been labelled by some otherworldly force as a Brave Hero? What had to have happened in her world for this to have been so? He'd had to fight a dragon to earn his title, great and powerful forces for the others as well. What made Veronica so special? In this world, she had been the great terror, so why- what made her so different?

"I don't know... I fear that whatever happened where she came from must have been utterly devastating if it earned her a title like ours. I don't know what we're supposed to do if... something happened there? We can't undo it, but if it's troubling her now with Loki- what if it never left?" Celica added, only to have her worries confirmed as she felt a faint rumble beneath their feet. It may have been early in the morning, but suspiciously enough, it seemed as though there was a winter storm brewing, despite it not being winter at all.

"I don't know about the both of you, but sticking around here seems like bad news," Hector offered next, shielding his eyes from the snow as he tried to take a better look at the distant clouds. Though he couldn't make out much of anything, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something would soon go awry. His hand clutched the length of Maltet tight as he thought further on this, other hand soon following suit. There was something off here. He wasn't certain if it was the fact they'd let Loki escape that didn't sit right with him or the recent memories of the King of Flame's dying eyes, or simply just the paranoia that came with warfare, but something was very, very wrong.

"We need to get going soon," Celica gave, hoping to ease the tension that thickened the air. "It looks like this storm is just beginning, so- Go on. Wake her up, she can't sleep through it if she intends to not freeze to death. It's... already-" she attempted to add, only to instead find herself pressing her thighs together, rubbing them with her hands to produce some sort of heat through friction. Before she could go any further with this pathetic display, Hector draped the length of his cape over her, shielding her from any further impact of the icy wind. If anyone were to catch a chill out here, it would be her, thanks to how exposed her clothes had left her.

Ephraim gave a slow nod of approval, plucking up Hliðskjálf and revealing the makeshift cot inside. The saddle pad of the horse, which was tied nearby, and the saddlebag as a pillow beneath her head. She was so small, so weak looking. It astonished him that she was capable of so much. Without saying a word, he rolled the edges of the saddle pad up, taking a moment to scoop her up and pull her close to his body. Sure, he was a little cold after shedding his cape and armor, but at the least, his debt had been paid.

And now, they had to get back to Askr.