Torn

A low growl from behind made Dakran jump off his horse and readying himself for an attack. Under cover of darkness, there was no way to tell where the beast was. Volsa's were good at approaching their prey unnoticed, and he knew that his chances of spotting it before it attacked were lower than the temperature in the white lands.

Dakran felt paws on his chest as the horse whined and raised themselves on their hind legs; scared and he hit the ground with a loud thud, but thankfully, the horses tangled in the reins and couldn't run as he faced a very angry-looking volsa drooling on him, teeth bared, heavy weight pressing him against the ground.

Dakran's hand wrapped around the sword's hilt as the volsa growled and snapped his teeth at him and, for some reason, hadn't chewed his head off.

The volsa's ears perked up and stopped growling all of a sudden and began sniffing him as he slowly pulled on his sword. It was a good moment to stab the bloody beast and untangle his horses and make a run for it.

The volsa raised his head, sniffing the air and looked at him for a brief moment and then sniffed his face. Could it be that it was the mother of the cub living in Ironstone on his bed, and little Dak's scent rubbed off on him?

The volsa jumped off him, sniffing the air around, turned and disappeared into the night. Now he knew for sure that it was the mother of the cub. There was no other reason why the beast would pass a meal.

Dakran pushed himself off the ground brushing his clothes. Even though he couldn't see much, it seemed the clouds were finally letting some light seep through, and the pitch black that had surrounded them for so long was on its last legs.

Spotting the horses just a few paces away from where the volsa attacked him, Dakran untangled their reins and climbed back, hoping that that would be the last he would

see of the volsa.

Flickering lights in the distance was a sign that he was approaching a village of some sort. It had been some time now since the shikari had breached the border, and no one had any clue as to where they went. The realm was big enough for everyone. Probably some forest where they could hide away from all the prying eyes or fuck knows, but he wasn't curious enough to find. They were out of his lands and someone else's problem now.

Dakran spurred the horses to a trotting pace. Galloping was out of the question with so many horses tied together. He was hoping to return as fast as he could back to Ironstone and his little red. Now more than ever, he was eagerly and anxiously hurrying back home. His future bride would be waiting for him and a lifetime to share with her. Angst and excitement crept into his heart as his imagination began to run wild with thoughts of steamy nights, little red splayed under him squirming, and him burying himself deep inside her, revelling in her tight warmth. A frustrated grunt escaped his lips at his lewd thoughts and his ever-growing erection trapped within the confines of his tightening trousers. Dakran sucked a deep breath, grounding himself in this plain of existence. His mind and body played heavy tricks on him.

As he approached the village, he began being doubtful whether anyone lived there anymore, and for some reason, it was a welcomed distraction. The two torches that burned to mark the gate were the only ones lit. Even oil lamps would illuminate the front porch of houses, but not from what he could see. As he trotted through the village, some of the places were still intact, and to his dismay, corpses littered the ground, tored, disembodied, headless. It wasn't a sight easy to stomach even though he had seen it more times than he could count. The village was abandoned, like many others before. People had fled, running to save their lives. There was no shikari in sight. At the centre of the small village, the mayoral residence was marked, and next to it, a small granary, where the villagers kept their food supplies. Dakran halted his horse in front of it and nimbly jumped off it. He hoped he would find enough food to push them forward for at least another week or so.

Climbing up the small steps, Dakran halted in front of the closed door and took a deep breath. It was all or nothing. Dakran placed his hand on the door and pulled out his sword, ready to face whatever was on the other side.

The door creaked to an open, and to his surprise, there were still some grains left and what looked like salted meat, sufficient for the time being. The small torch that lit up the small room was down to its last ember. Dakran made his way to the nearest pile of grains and began carrying them outside, strapping them onto the horses, along with everything else that he could take with him. Since there wasn't anyone in the village, no payment was required. Guilt quickly crept up into his heart, he would have gladly paid, but there was no one around, and despite that knowledge, he still felt like a thieving bandit.

When he pulled that last sack of grain that he intended to take with him, Dakran froze when the figure of a small child crouched under it appeared in front of his eyes. The sack fell out of his hand. It seemed that it was his fate to keep finding lost younglings. Lowering on his heels to have a closer look a the grubby-looking child with dark hair, only skin and bones. Dakran brushed a stray lock on its forehead, and the child opened its dull, fearful grey eyes at him, languidly blinking a few times before slipping back to sleep. Dakran pulled on his flask tied to his hip, gently pried the child's mouth and let a few drops of water fall into his mouth, as the little child softly groaned and attempted to open his eyes again, but he was too weak.

" You're coming with me, little man" Dakran folded the child into his arms and picked up the last sack of grains, and walked out of the granary.

He took another quick look around to ensure the village was indeed deserted before climbing onto his horse and turning around, trotting his way throughout the village with the boy in his arms.