Falcon sits in the dark, staring out of the cave entrance, watching the trees beyond. Occasionally he catches glimpses of the sentries flitting between the trees like a pair of ghosts, but mostly it's as still and silent as a grave. Someone snuffles somewhere in the cave, soon to be hushed by a sharp elbow in their ribs. The moonlight filters gently into the cave, turning Alaric and Rosemary's pale skin to gleaming silver. They sleep beside Helena on the other side of the cave, both holding hands across the nursemaid's chest. They've been quiet and drawn ever since they lost their mother, much like Falcon himself. It's only been a week since her imprisonment, but the atmosphere in the group is very different.
We shouldn't be here, thinks Falcon. In an ideal world they would have been leagues away from here by now, running away from the conflict as fast as they can. The fighting has been growing in intensity over the past weeks, more and more Blaze soldiers leaving the castle every day and the almost constant sounds of battle in the distant hills. Falcon shudders, he doesn't even want to think about what might happen if Frost found them here. Blaze appear to have ignored them so far, their attention too focussed on fighting and watching Eternal changee, but Frost are a whole different kettle of fish. It doesn't help that most of the group are still suffering from their injuries. True most of the smaller cuts and bruises are dealt with, broken limbs set in casts and sickness tended, but there are still scars here that will take a longer time than this to heal. Some will scar permenantly, while other will leave only nasty memories. And it's the memories that will take the longest to heal.
Not exactly the ending I had in mind, thinks Falcon, finally curling up on the floor, relaxing slightly at the familar warmth on either side of him.
In the morning, he decides, he's really going to put his mind to it. He's going to work something out. No more messing about. It's time for action.