The world was quiet.
Too quiet.
A breeze stirred through the ranks of soldiers, offering little reprieve to their suffocating armor. Several of the men had removed their helms. Their faces were flushed from exhaustion and sweat. Those of the Forest clan, their bald heads gleaming with moisture, held their faces towards the ground. As one passed by, whispers of their prayers could be heard. The warriors of Conteem kept a careful watch over the stillness. They had been trained from birth, their rigidity engraved into the very essence of their being.
"Is it time?" a voice asked.
Little Ram looked over at the boy who stood beside him. His brown hair had grown in the last several months, so he had tied it up into a bun. The scar on his cheek still stood pink against his white skin, and he rubbed the healing flesh around his neck, where a collar used to chafe. "Not yet," Little Ram answered. He ran a hand through his own hair and decided to put it up as well.
The boy watched his companion. Then he fidgeted with his weapon. "I've been trained in swordsmanship," he said. "I don't know anything about a... pole arm, you called it?"
"I couldn't get my hands on any swords," Little Ram stated, his eyes glancing towards the blond hair of an Earn craftsman.
"How come?"
"The Earn are few and far between, their skills greatly sought after. You're lucky I managed to snag any weapon for you."
"You know how to use a pole arm..."
Little Ram huffed and loosened the scabbard from his belt. "Be that way," he retorted, snatching the spear from the boy and shoving the sword into his arms.
"Thank you," the boy mumbled, absently tying the scabbard to his own belt.
Silence thickened the air, adding to the already oppressive heat from the sunlight. As the soldiers waited for dusk, waited for the appointed time of attack, some began to play games, producing dice or cards from random pockets on their person. Only the warriors of Conteem remained vigilant, their bear-like structure towering over the others.
Little Ram glanced at his friend and noticed him studying the other clans. "Still trying to figure them out?"
"It'd be nice to know the characteristics of friend versus foe."
"What all do you remember, Prince?"
"Why must you call me that ridiculous nickname?"
"Because. Now what do you remember?"
Prince sighed. "The Conteem Bear is mighty above all, training their youth in the art of war since the day they were born. The Forest Chimp is mischievous and reserved, keeping to their temples and distinguished by their shaved heads. The Earn Eagle is few in number, but their exceptional craftsmanship, from woodworking to blade smithing, is unparalleled. The Royal Lion is comprised mostly of the former nobility, but they are careful to keep themselves humble." Prince's eyes shifted towards the field that stretched out beyond the army. "The Tikirn Snake is oppressed, as their artistry is... poorly balanced against their more aggressive brother. And the Milfall Scorpion is ambitious and dangerous, poisoning the efforts of a unified country to gain control."
"You forgot one."
Prince smirked at Little Ram. "Did I? Perhaps I was saving the best for last."
"You're not official yet. I only keep up the show so others won't suspect you."
"Either way, I am ever grateful for the Neirner Wolf. I wouldn't be alive if not for your clan." He touched the piercing on his ear, horrid memories flooding his mind. He could still feel the whip's sting and the gnawing aches of hunger and dehydration. His ears rang with the echoes of rattling chains and choked screams and—
Little Ram grabbed the boy's shoulder. "Hey, don't go there. I don't need you getting all depressed on me at a time like this."
"Right. I'm sorry. It's just... It's been over a year now. You think I would have stopped grieving by this point."
"From what I can gather, she was the most important thing in your life. I know something of what you've been through." Little Ram's eyes grew distant. "It's not the kind of pain that goes away, no matter how much time passes."
Prince nodded, wishing to know more of Little Ram's history but keen to his privacy. The two stood together for several long moments, absorbing their environment and keeping their thoughts to themselves. The growing shadows felt alive with anticipation, the field eerily quiet as even the crickets had already evacuated. The sun finally began to set, and a messenger approached.
"Captain!" the man saluted. Little Ram loosely returned the action. "The general wishes you to prepare your men. The infantry will march as soon as the sun's last light has departed."
"Understood." He watched the messenger hurry off to deliver the news to the other platoons before ordering his men into line.
"Is it time?" Prince asked, wringing the hilt of the sword he now carried.
Little Ram twirled the spear in his hand to check its balance. A mournfully hungry gleam entered his eyes as he answered, "Yes."
**
This is a future scene from my series, one of my favourite parts of the story (you can read the first book on Wattpad under The Island's Inhabitant by smythicdreamer). It is unrelated to the previous posts I've been writing for FWW, and unfortunately, I do not have the motivation or planning to finish that story right now. If I remember, I might return sometime to explore more, because I very quickly fell in love with Khasan and Imaani. Thanks for reading and see you next season!
Dani Lewis Smyth
Aonar nicht Einsam
