Summer's End (August 2989) - [One-Shot]
May 2, 2018 14:16:36 GMT -5
Post by Runa on May 2, 2018 14:16:36 GMT -5
A long brown building stood ahead; at the four corners were great carved horse heads upon the eaves, and if such decoration had been insufficient to tell what purpose the building stood for, then the horses plodding around the paddocks directly adjacent would clear any confusion. The inside of the stable was bright, for the large doors were open wide to capture the breeze that blew from the peak of the Starkhorn down over the city; the day was warm, for it was approaching the end of summer, and the daylight was flooding down upon Edoras in a wash of gold; gold that morphed the two braids upon the young girl’s head into woven beacons of light themselves.
It was not the first time Runa had come to the stables; her brother had started working there four years ago when he had reached his eighth year. Nearly all of Runa’s memory of him had Bear there, watering the steeds and laying the hay. At first she had not been allowed to go on her own, for she had been too small to be away from Mama or Papa. Yet, frequent were her visits even then. The stables, the smell of horse and hay, the look of her brother at work—all of it was very familiar. So it was she skipped her way inside as if the building was her very own.
“Well, well, if it isn’t little Runa,” a voice, amused and kind hummed to her upon her entry. There by the door, papers in hand, was a tall man with rivers of white in his dusty blonde hair, green eyes glittering.
“Good afternoon, Master Magan,” Runa piped to him in return, smiling up through the wisps of golden strands that had freed themselves from her braids.
The man offered a nod, motioning down the hallway, laughing lightly beneath his words. “Beorhtric and Ingulf are down that way, lass. Why not go make sure they’re feeding those horses for me, hm?” The stable master offered her a wink, and Runa nodded, lips curling in an even wider smile.
“I can do that!” The girl assured him, her voice like music as she took off first with a skip, then a hurried gait that was alike to jogging. “Bear!” She called excitedly, pale cheek pink from the exertion of hurrying throughout Edoras under the sun and into the warmth of the horse’s stables.
At the age of a fresh twelve, her brother was considerably taller than herself, and Runa could see his head over the manger in one of the stalls. His long, muddy hair hung about his chin moist in sweat as he worked with the shovel to continue sifting the manure and hay from the stall. He paused in his work, looking toward the center of the stable where his sister streamed his direction, and he sighed. “Runa,” he called, though his words were less excited and more exhausted. “What are you doing here?”
She was his baby sister, and he loved her; still, he was not over fond of the way she often trailed him about this city. Not even his work at the stables was enough to keep her away, and for a young boy fond of quiet, his sister was often found to be lacking in understanding of what peace actually meant.
“Master Magan wants to know if you’re feeding the horses,” Runa chirped as she came up.
Bear sighed, rolling his eyes as he returned his attention once more to his work. “Ingulf is feeding them now. We can do our jobs, Runa,” Bear reminded her in a low hum.
“Hello, Ingulf!” Runa offered next, skittering toward the young boy as he emerged from a stall with a white mare, bucket now empty of grains, and the sound of gentle crunching filtering out from behind him.
The boy was tall, nearly the size of her brother, though a year his minor. His hair was nearly white for how pale it was, his face flecked in freckles like constellations, with eyes of blue-fire. His shoulders hunched, though, for he preferred to pass unnoticed, and while his arms had worked into a semblance of muscle from his work with the horses, Ingulf looked thinner in mass than even Beorhtric. Still, for his shyness, Ingulf’s eyes warmed looking at Runa as they always did. “Hello, Runa,” the boy answered. His voice was soft, never raised above a hum. “Here to help?”
“Yes! I want to feed the horses!” Runa exclaimed brightly. She shifted in quick steps closer toward Ingulf as he shut the manger door behind him. Closer. Closer. Runa nearly could not help it. She liked his eyes; he did not frown at her like Bear sometimes did.
Bear grunted, stilling in his work to look at Runa with the precise frown she had just been considering: the one that said she was annoying, and needed to go. “Runa, we’re working, you can’t keep—”
“It’s all right, Beorhtric,” Ingulf said with a laugh. “She can help me. I could use it.” He knew, though, the girl was too small to cart around the food.
Beorhtric huffed, the sound almost a grunt. Maybe it was because Ingulf was an only child, but he always seemed to like having a tagalong. Ingulf was friends with Runa, Bear supposed, and Runa did not seem to mind that Ingulf did not like talking overmuch; in fact, Runa could very well carry on days’ worth of conversations all by herself, which was likely a relief to his best friend.
It was a trait, however, that drove her true brother absolutely mad.
“Beorhtric, lad—a minute here, if you please?” Magan word’s filtered down. Bear flicked his pale eyes down over the stalls and gave the stable master a nod.
“Coming, sir,” he answered. “Must be the new gelding for the captain…Runa, listen to Ingulf—horses aren’t games.”
“I will!” The girl chimed, and with that, Beorhtric set his shovel aside, and took off at a jog down the hall. Her blue eyes shifted back toward Ingulf, eagerly falling in step beside him. “Can I hold the bucket? Mama says I’m stronger than I look.”
Ingulf smiled down to her, though did not release the pail in his hand. “You’re getting big, it’s true,” the taller boy admitted. “But I have a different idea for how you can help me.” His pale-blonde hair was mussed, hanging about his sapphire eyes as they sparkled down to her in subtle laughter. Runa pouted upward to him, though the young boy found the expression even more amusing.
“What’s that?” Runa asked, voice faintly a whine. She wanted to help feed the horses, not do something else; it was the same task the boys did, and Runa enjoyed being alike to Bear. Next to her Papa and her uncles, Bear was the bravest man she knew!
“One of the horses needs a brushing,” Ingulf said. He was already reaching for the brush, extending it to Runa genially.
Runa’s small hands took hold of the brush, looking at it with a protruding lip as she considered if the task was meant to be an insult or not. She was a big girl; her Mama and Papa told her that often, and her uncles took her to train at the rings already. That was not a thing for little girls—that was for big ones. Ingulf, though, was always so nice to her. He did not treat her like a baby; not like Bear. “Is this a big girl job?” She asked, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Ingulf laughed, though the sound was quiet and reserved. “A very big girl job,” he offered. “I’ll help once I get the grains in the trough.”
Well, if it was a job Ingulf was going to help with, it was indeed for big kids, and Runa smiled and eagerly clutched the brush to her chest. “All right! I can help with that,” she sang. Excited steps skittered after Ingulf as the young boy filled once more the pails with the grains for feed. “Who’re we going to brush?” She asked.
“Edla, I think,” Ingulf hummed. Edla was a pretty mare, the color of a grey mist with mane of ebony. The mare was gentle as they came; gentle enough for children of any age, steadfast enough to carry packs for the Eored even upon the open plains where there were things to very well be scared of.
“Oh! She’s my favorite!” Her clear blue eyes looked like lanterns for how brightly they danced.
Runa was a well-behaved girl, Ingulf knew. She held respect for the animals, and was always gentle with them, no matter their size. Beorhtric had said recently the girl had nursed a baby bird back to health. It was not that Runa was brash or coarse that made the young boy want to pair her with the gentlest horse in the stable; it was that the horse had to be trusted with young children, however careful. Beorhtric was right about one thing: they were working. His eyes could not be fully devoted to watching the little girl, and horses were not something to be taken too lightly.
The blonde ray of sunlight followed at his heels as he moved to refill the pails with feed, prattling on in an endless stream of words. Runa commented on the present she had gotten for Beorhtric a few weeks back; she had worked very hard on her sewing to make the little doll for her brother, a gift Ingulf knew had set Beorhtric frowning for a whole week, though Runa had not seemed to notice.
“He loves when I play with my doll,” Runa explained fluidly. “So I knew just what he would want for himself!”
Ingulf laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m sure it was a great thought,” the boy offered. He was not sure Runa could even be sad, or have a mean thought. She was too lively. Too sweet. Too enamored of her brother, and the greatness she saw in him.
“I want to grow up and be just like him,” the girl said. Bear was, after all, a great brother. And Ingulf liked him a lot—better than he liked Runa, at any rate. Maybe if she grew up to be like Bear, Ingulf would want to spend more time with her, too. Runa thought that that sounded nice.
“Well, Bear and I started with the grooming, too. Who knows? Maybe some day you will work in the stables with us,” Ingulf had now filled the buckets to brim with grains, and though his muscles strained against the weight, the young boy was used to carting the horse-meal and was able to carry them right to the stall.
Ingulf worked the door open and moved inside, Runa passing in quickly beside him. “Hello, Edla!” The girl greeted. From the back of the stall came the silver-grey horse, nostrils wide and searching as she pressed her muzzle into Runa’s golden braids. The girl giggled, the sound like music, reaching a small hand up to brush the mare’s great head. “I get to brush you!” She announced.
Ingulf grinned to himself, turning to take the feed to the hanging trough Edla was able to call her own. Already Runa was prattling, talking to the horse in an endless stream the way she was known to speak to just about anyone. Her heart had always been easily led to speech; it did not seem to matter if the recipient understood or not.
Her words mingled with the sound of buzzing bugs, carrying the warmth of summer into the hum of the stable’s usual sounds. “It’s a big girl job, did you know that? Oh! I saw a pony yesterday, aaaall black. I think you’re prettier,” Runa was giggling.
Slowly, Ingulf was pouring the pail, the sound of falling grains drowning out a little of the girl’s words. Runa, though, was content, and drawing the hand-brush down Edla’s fore-flank with gentle motions. She smiled as she worked, peering up at the mare’s gentle eyes. “Maybe someday when I’m bigger, I can take you out for a ride! Bear says I might be able to ask—Edla?”
The brightness in the child’s voice faltered, and Runa’s heart began to clench in nervousness. The horse, always so gentle, had begun to thrash her head, snorting, whickering. Quickly, Runa dropped the brush, blue eyes going wide.
“Edla? I’m sorry—Edla—“
Maybe she was too small to do the big girl task. The mare’s hooves sounded like thunder upon the hay, and Runa pressed back against the manger door.
Ingulf dropped his bucket, wheeling immediately. “Runa!” He exclaimed. The sound carried along with the trumpets of the horse, and out of the corner of his eye he could see both Beorhtric and Master Magan take off at a run for them.
Edla reared, black hooves striking out like vipers into the air, and Runa shrieked. The door opened, and the world blurred as she felt a shove. A hand—smaller than an adult’s—had been pressed against her shoulders. Before she had even hit the ground she heard a sound unlike anything she had ever heard before. It was heavy, a crunch; and along with it came the feel of warm, sticky liquid upon her face and dress.
It took Runa a minute to blink the world into focus, but the first thing she saw was a broken, bloody face looking at her with wide, sapphire eyes.
“Ingulf!” The girl screamed. She sought to move to go to him, her eyes blurring with water. “Ingulf, get up!” She wailed.
“Get her, lad! Get her out of here right now!”
Behind her, Runa felt arms around her. She gasped, writhing and wriggling, though Beorhtric held fast. “Hold on, Runi. Come on, come on.”
“Ingulf! Ingulf!” Runa felt a panic seize her that she had never felt before, though the horse’s hooves fell like an avalanche from the Starkhorn, and Bear was pulling her away. “Oh no, Bear! Tell him to get up!” She shrieked, eyes wide. There was unrest in the stables now; her panic had seeped into the air, the horses all down lane pawed and threw their heads. It was like a storm, and Runa gasped, suddenly feeling cold despite the heat that was drenching through the cloth of her dress.
“Shh, Runi, shh,” Bear pleaded, though his voice was pitched as well, his own face falling into surprise and sorrow.
Runa’s hands gripped like iron to her brother, and she pressed her face into the center of his tunic, tears coming in streams. “Ingulf! Get up, Ingulf!” She sobbed, though she dared not look.
Bear’s hand pulled something from her braid, shaking it free of his fingers as he gripped at his sister tighter. “Runi, Runi, stop—he’s…”
“He’s going to be all right, Bear? I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—” The little girl was in hysterics, and Beorhtric did not know what to do save grip her tighter as her lungs ran dry of air. He, too, was staring at the lifeless form of his friend, his tears unable to catch up to the excitement quite yet.
Magan’s hands were on them, drawing them both up and away. “No,” he said gently. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Runa—you…you go home and get cleaned up, hm? I’m going to get the ladies from the Hall—”
“Ingulf’s going to be all right, right, Master Magan?” Runa sobbed, finally chancing a look upward to the adult’s face. It was grave and grey, and Runa felt her heart still in her chest. She had done something bad; she had done something very bad. “…I…I—”
The girl melted into a fit of screams and shrieks, hot tears mingling with the red splatter that was already upon her skin. Beorhtric tightened his hold, and Runa clung to him as fervidly in return. She could hear Magan speaking, though she could not hear him for the way her heart and mind wept alongside her body.
“Come on, Runi,” Beorhtric’s voice said, low and grave as he scooped her higher in his arms. She was getting a little too large for him to carry, but the boy was not certain he could let his sister go. Neither for her, or for himself. He could not turn around, he could not look back. His stomach was rolling already, and his sister… “Let’s…let’s go home.”
It was not the first time Runa had come to the stables; her brother had started working there four years ago when he had reached his eighth year. Nearly all of Runa’s memory of him had Bear there, watering the steeds and laying the hay. At first she had not been allowed to go on her own, for she had been too small to be away from Mama or Papa. Yet, frequent were her visits even then. The stables, the smell of horse and hay, the look of her brother at work—all of it was very familiar. So it was she skipped her way inside as if the building was her very own.
“Well, well, if it isn’t little Runa,” a voice, amused and kind hummed to her upon her entry. There by the door, papers in hand, was a tall man with rivers of white in his dusty blonde hair, green eyes glittering.
“Good afternoon, Master Magan,” Runa piped to him in return, smiling up through the wisps of golden strands that had freed themselves from her braids.
The man offered a nod, motioning down the hallway, laughing lightly beneath his words. “Beorhtric and Ingulf are down that way, lass. Why not go make sure they’re feeding those horses for me, hm?” The stable master offered her a wink, and Runa nodded, lips curling in an even wider smile.
“I can do that!” The girl assured him, her voice like music as she took off first with a skip, then a hurried gait that was alike to jogging. “Bear!” She called excitedly, pale cheek pink from the exertion of hurrying throughout Edoras under the sun and into the warmth of the horse’s stables.
At the age of a fresh twelve, her brother was considerably taller than herself, and Runa could see his head over the manger in one of the stalls. His long, muddy hair hung about his chin moist in sweat as he worked with the shovel to continue sifting the manure and hay from the stall. He paused in his work, looking toward the center of the stable where his sister streamed his direction, and he sighed. “Runa,” he called, though his words were less excited and more exhausted. “What are you doing here?”
She was his baby sister, and he loved her; still, he was not over fond of the way she often trailed him about this city. Not even his work at the stables was enough to keep her away, and for a young boy fond of quiet, his sister was often found to be lacking in understanding of what peace actually meant.
“Master Magan wants to know if you’re feeding the horses,” Runa chirped as she came up.
Bear sighed, rolling his eyes as he returned his attention once more to his work. “Ingulf is feeding them now. We can do our jobs, Runa,” Bear reminded her in a low hum.
“Hello, Ingulf!” Runa offered next, skittering toward the young boy as he emerged from a stall with a white mare, bucket now empty of grains, and the sound of gentle crunching filtering out from behind him.
The boy was tall, nearly the size of her brother, though a year his minor. His hair was nearly white for how pale it was, his face flecked in freckles like constellations, with eyes of blue-fire. His shoulders hunched, though, for he preferred to pass unnoticed, and while his arms had worked into a semblance of muscle from his work with the horses, Ingulf looked thinner in mass than even Beorhtric. Still, for his shyness, Ingulf’s eyes warmed looking at Runa as they always did. “Hello, Runa,” the boy answered. His voice was soft, never raised above a hum. “Here to help?”
“Yes! I want to feed the horses!” Runa exclaimed brightly. She shifted in quick steps closer toward Ingulf as he shut the manger door behind him. Closer. Closer. Runa nearly could not help it. She liked his eyes; he did not frown at her like Bear sometimes did.
Bear grunted, stilling in his work to look at Runa with the precise frown she had just been considering: the one that said she was annoying, and needed to go. “Runa, we’re working, you can’t keep—”
“It’s all right, Beorhtric,” Ingulf said with a laugh. “She can help me. I could use it.” He knew, though, the girl was too small to cart around the food.
Beorhtric huffed, the sound almost a grunt. Maybe it was because Ingulf was an only child, but he always seemed to like having a tagalong. Ingulf was friends with Runa, Bear supposed, and Runa did not seem to mind that Ingulf did not like talking overmuch; in fact, Runa could very well carry on days’ worth of conversations all by herself, which was likely a relief to his best friend.
It was a trait, however, that drove her true brother absolutely mad.
“Beorhtric, lad—a minute here, if you please?” Magan word’s filtered down. Bear flicked his pale eyes down over the stalls and gave the stable master a nod.
“Coming, sir,” he answered. “Must be the new gelding for the captain…Runa, listen to Ingulf—horses aren’t games.”
“I will!” The girl chimed, and with that, Beorhtric set his shovel aside, and took off at a jog down the hall. Her blue eyes shifted back toward Ingulf, eagerly falling in step beside him. “Can I hold the bucket? Mama says I’m stronger than I look.”
Ingulf smiled down to her, though did not release the pail in his hand. “You’re getting big, it’s true,” the taller boy admitted. “But I have a different idea for how you can help me.” His pale-blonde hair was mussed, hanging about his sapphire eyes as they sparkled down to her in subtle laughter. Runa pouted upward to him, though the young boy found the expression even more amusing.
“What’s that?” Runa asked, voice faintly a whine. She wanted to help feed the horses, not do something else; it was the same task the boys did, and Runa enjoyed being alike to Bear. Next to her Papa and her uncles, Bear was the bravest man she knew!
“One of the horses needs a brushing,” Ingulf said. He was already reaching for the brush, extending it to Runa genially.
Runa’s small hands took hold of the brush, looking at it with a protruding lip as she considered if the task was meant to be an insult or not. She was a big girl; her Mama and Papa told her that often, and her uncles took her to train at the rings already. That was not a thing for little girls—that was for big ones. Ingulf, though, was always so nice to her. He did not treat her like a baby; not like Bear. “Is this a big girl job?” She asked, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Ingulf laughed, though the sound was quiet and reserved. “A very big girl job,” he offered. “I’ll help once I get the grains in the trough.”
Well, if it was a job Ingulf was going to help with, it was indeed for big kids, and Runa smiled and eagerly clutched the brush to her chest. “All right! I can help with that,” she sang. Excited steps skittered after Ingulf as the young boy filled once more the pails with the grains for feed. “Who’re we going to brush?” She asked.
“Edla, I think,” Ingulf hummed. Edla was a pretty mare, the color of a grey mist with mane of ebony. The mare was gentle as they came; gentle enough for children of any age, steadfast enough to carry packs for the Eored even upon the open plains where there were things to very well be scared of.
“Oh! She’s my favorite!” Her clear blue eyes looked like lanterns for how brightly they danced.
Runa was a well-behaved girl, Ingulf knew. She held respect for the animals, and was always gentle with them, no matter their size. Beorhtric had said recently the girl had nursed a baby bird back to health. It was not that Runa was brash or coarse that made the young boy want to pair her with the gentlest horse in the stable; it was that the horse had to be trusted with young children, however careful. Beorhtric was right about one thing: they were working. His eyes could not be fully devoted to watching the little girl, and horses were not something to be taken too lightly.
The blonde ray of sunlight followed at his heels as he moved to refill the pails with feed, prattling on in an endless stream of words. Runa commented on the present she had gotten for Beorhtric a few weeks back; she had worked very hard on her sewing to make the little doll for her brother, a gift Ingulf knew had set Beorhtric frowning for a whole week, though Runa had not seemed to notice.
“He loves when I play with my doll,” Runa explained fluidly. “So I knew just what he would want for himself!”
Ingulf laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m sure it was a great thought,” the boy offered. He was not sure Runa could even be sad, or have a mean thought. She was too lively. Too sweet. Too enamored of her brother, and the greatness she saw in him.
“I want to grow up and be just like him,” the girl said. Bear was, after all, a great brother. And Ingulf liked him a lot—better than he liked Runa, at any rate. Maybe if she grew up to be like Bear, Ingulf would want to spend more time with her, too. Runa thought that that sounded nice.
“Well, Bear and I started with the grooming, too. Who knows? Maybe some day you will work in the stables with us,” Ingulf had now filled the buckets to brim with grains, and though his muscles strained against the weight, the young boy was used to carting the horse-meal and was able to carry them right to the stall.
Ingulf worked the door open and moved inside, Runa passing in quickly beside him. “Hello, Edla!” The girl greeted. From the back of the stall came the silver-grey horse, nostrils wide and searching as she pressed her muzzle into Runa’s golden braids. The girl giggled, the sound like music, reaching a small hand up to brush the mare’s great head. “I get to brush you!” She announced.
Ingulf grinned to himself, turning to take the feed to the hanging trough Edla was able to call her own. Already Runa was prattling, talking to the horse in an endless stream the way she was known to speak to just about anyone. Her heart had always been easily led to speech; it did not seem to matter if the recipient understood or not.
Her words mingled with the sound of buzzing bugs, carrying the warmth of summer into the hum of the stable’s usual sounds. “It’s a big girl job, did you know that? Oh! I saw a pony yesterday, aaaall black. I think you’re prettier,” Runa was giggling.
Slowly, Ingulf was pouring the pail, the sound of falling grains drowning out a little of the girl’s words. Runa, though, was content, and drawing the hand-brush down Edla’s fore-flank with gentle motions. She smiled as she worked, peering up at the mare’s gentle eyes. “Maybe someday when I’m bigger, I can take you out for a ride! Bear says I might be able to ask—Edla?”
The brightness in the child’s voice faltered, and Runa’s heart began to clench in nervousness. The horse, always so gentle, had begun to thrash her head, snorting, whickering. Quickly, Runa dropped the brush, blue eyes going wide.
“Edla? I’m sorry—Edla—“
Maybe she was too small to do the big girl task. The mare’s hooves sounded like thunder upon the hay, and Runa pressed back against the manger door.
Ingulf dropped his bucket, wheeling immediately. “Runa!” He exclaimed. The sound carried along with the trumpets of the horse, and out of the corner of his eye he could see both Beorhtric and Master Magan take off at a run for them.
Edla reared, black hooves striking out like vipers into the air, and Runa shrieked. The door opened, and the world blurred as she felt a shove. A hand—smaller than an adult’s—had been pressed against her shoulders. Before she had even hit the ground she heard a sound unlike anything she had ever heard before. It was heavy, a crunch; and along with it came the feel of warm, sticky liquid upon her face and dress.
It took Runa a minute to blink the world into focus, but the first thing she saw was a broken, bloody face looking at her with wide, sapphire eyes.
“Ingulf!” The girl screamed. She sought to move to go to him, her eyes blurring with water. “Ingulf, get up!” She wailed.
“Get her, lad! Get her out of here right now!”
Behind her, Runa felt arms around her. She gasped, writhing and wriggling, though Beorhtric held fast. “Hold on, Runi. Come on, come on.”
“Ingulf! Ingulf!” Runa felt a panic seize her that she had never felt before, though the horse’s hooves fell like an avalanche from the Starkhorn, and Bear was pulling her away. “Oh no, Bear! Tell him to get up!” She shrieked, eyes wide. There was unrest in the stables now; her panic had seeped into the air, the horses all down lane pawed and threw their heads. It was like a storm, and Runa gasped, suddenly feeling cold despite the heat that was drenching through the cloth of her dress.
“Shh, Runi, shh,” Bear pleaded, though his voice was pitched as well, his own face falling into surprise and sorrow.
Runa’s hands gripped like iron to her brother, and she pressed her face into the center of his tunic, tears coming in streams. “Ingulf! Get up, Ingulf!” She sobbed, though she dared not look.
Bear’s hand pulled something from her braid, shaking it free of his fingers as he gripped at his sister tighter. “Runi, Runi, stop—he’s…”
“He’s going to be all right, Bear? I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—” The little girl was in hysterics, and Beorhtric did not know what to do save grip her tighter as her lungs ran dry of air. He, too, was staring at the lifeless form of his friend, his tears unable to catch up to the excitement quite yet.
Magan’s hands were on them, drawing them both up and away. “No,” he said gently. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Runa—you…you go home and get cleaned up, hm? I’m going to get the ladies from the Hall—”
“Ingulf’s going to be all right, right, Master Magan?” Runa sobbed, finally chancing a look upward to the adult’s face. It was grave and grey, and Runa felt her heart still in her chest. She had done something bad; she had done something very bad. “…I…I—”
The girl melted into a fit of screams and shrieks, hot tears mingling with the red splatter that was already upon her skin. Beorhtric tightened his hold, and Runa clung to him as fervidly in return. She could hear Magan speaking, though she could not hear him for the way her heart and mind wept alongside her body.
“Come on, Runi,” Beorhtric’s voice said, low and grave as he scooped her higher in his arms. She was getting a little too large for him to carry, but the boy was not certain he could let his sister go. Neither for her, or for himself. He could not turn around, he could not look back. His stomach was rolling already, and his sister… “Let’s…let’s go home.”