The Lowlands.

It wasn't until hours later that Eve figured out the cause of celebration in the Highlands. Billowing clouds of smoke came from a large expanse of land further south in the Lowlands. Eve was sure the land belonged to The Dynio clan and their rivals The Drakos-El.

Fregurd had many spies in several of their enemy camps along the Highlands. There was Neuridian, Nordox and Kal-Tor, to name a few. To Eve it remained unclear which section of the Higlands attacked the Lower regions of Dynio and Drakos- El. While Eve witnessed the Neuridan's high spirits she knew the victory was likely a general morale for all the Highlands. How had Fregurds spies missed the plotting of this ambush? How had she? This  all could have been prevented.

Eve dismounted Rhy's and ran to Fregurd's citadel, where only warriors and the nomadic healers were permitted. The crowd of people formed a thick circle around Asburro. Eve pushed and wiggled her way to the front to hear his news firsthand.

Asburro, a tall brawny man with dark eyes that could spear you if you crossed him the wrong way, stood in the center of the circle with his two pet wolves anchored to his side. Fregurd's warriors and healers; both male and female alike circled around him. He rose his hand and immediately the chatter and confusion died down.“Our neighbors, the Dynio's and The Drakos- El have just had their villages pillaged and burned to the ground!”

There was a diplomatic gasp amongst the Fregurds.

“They seek our assistance immediately. I’m sending the caravans at once.”

Eve suppressed a selfish groan, every muscle in her body was still aching from the journey back from the highlands.

“Time is of the essence. Naomi,” Asburro said addressing a women with dark curls. “You take the West. The Dynios and Everyn you take the East. The Drakos-El.” Asburro was so preoccupied making demands that he didn't even scorn Eve for her blatant neglect to the clan's dress code as he spoke to her. More surprising was that he had yet to interrogate her along with the rest of the spies. That would all come in time she supposed.

Not a minute later the two groups dispersed to their appointed territories.

Even leading the other healers, most of whom were women, Everyn felt out of place with her hair free of any restraints while dressed in simple peasant attire. Her clothing gave her an advantage over the others. She rode much faster than those who rode side saddle in the caravan. As a result she reached the Drakos- El clan long before the others.

She froze at the sight of the land. The once lush green woodlands had been burned to patches of brown crisp and piles of ash build up. The houses and structures of the village had been completely dilapitated. Smoke and rotting flesh still lingered in the air.

Quickly Everyn dismounted Rhys and walked towards a canvas structure which was set up for the injured citizens. At the doorway she was greeted by a man with long curly blonde hair. He appeared tired and Ashen. He turned when he heard her approaching. Instinctively he extended his arm to her. “I am Mister Wester Feloine. You must be head of the aid sent from Fregurd.”

Everyn nodded and shook his hand, but already her eyes drifted past him towards the large quantity of injured civilians and fallen warriors. There was little time for formalities. Eve rushed past Mr. Feloine and gave her attention to the most severely injured looking soldier.

The man cried as she neared him. His face was bloodied and one of his legs had recently been severed. Beneath the blood though, his face seemed familiar, his eyes carried the same inky hue of Blue that Madox's eyes had. One of the other warriors whose wounds were scraps in comparison was trying to make the man drink from his flask of whiskey.

“Nay, just let me die. Go save the others, your talents are wasted on me. From here on I'll be nothing but a burden to society!” The injured warrior cried in agony.

Everyn was taken back by the man's misery but wouldn't let that stop her from doing her job. She lowered her hands to the bloody stump where the man's legs had once been. She couldn't regrow a limb but her holy magic could heal the wound and stop his pain.

“Dinna yer hear me wench? I says get away! I says let me die!”

When Eve glanced back at the man's face she saw her beloved Madox. It was a mere illusion of exhaustion, but it was enough to make her chest ache again. In spite of the man's protest she healed his wounds and quieted his yipping with a song from Fregurd. During the healing process the man drifted off into a deep slumber.

The End

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