Searching for Something Forgotten (OPEN)

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien clenched his teeth and tensed to rise, stopped only by the arrow that thudded into the ground next to him so closely it left the barest white scratch on his skin. An obvious order to stay down, or he would be killed. Or, at least, shot. He stared up with murderous rage.

The man approached, making an impatient motion for him to stand. He followed orders reluctantly, and he was searched. The man took his boot knives, then the ones strapped to his wrists. His sword was confiscated, and when the man opened his vest he blinked, momentarily taken aback at the amount of steel it contained. He began removing them, tossing the blades of every kind unceremoniously onto the forest floor in a growing pile. Eventually he just took the entire vest, tiring of unstrapping everything, and took his cloak, not bothering with that either. It was going to get cold at night without it (and only with a soft long sleeved tunic)...But they hadn't gotten every weapon on him. They'd missed the three strapped under the tunic.

Damien saw her terror at his threat, and decided that the moment he was able he was going to kill Descus. If they let their guard down for a second, he would have them. there wasn't very many of them, after all. Studying them, he scowled - if first impressions were anything to go by, they likely wouldn't let their guard down anytime soon, and he was definitely at the disadvantage, especially with most of his weapons taken from him.

"you honorless rat," He snarled, being hauled to his feet none too kindly. His wrists were tightly bound behind him, and he flinched as the rope was tightened, making his hands tingle slightly.

"Can't have you trying anything, now, can we?" Descus said pleasantly, as if it explained everything. He was jerked forward and they set off through the trees.

He fidgeted with the ropes binding his wrists and was rewarded with a sharp blow to his back that sent him to his knees. He rose again, not looking behind him but straining against the bindings that were never going to come untied. He used knots like this sometimes for that particular reason - if you tied them right they weren't going to come undone by force.

"Mind telling us where we're going?" He seethed. "If we're going back to Arays, you can't expect us to walk the entire way. And you don't even have provisions." At least, it didn't look like it. Maybe they had hidden them somewhere along the road to make their capture easier.

[Lujayn]

"I plan to get us there on magical pink ponies," Descus called over his shoulder to the trussed-up Damien. A few simple gestures had the other man dragging Damien along with him, Descus having commandeered Aneira.

"Why do you always... make hand signs... to that man?" Aneira asked, curious.

"Hmm? Oh, he's deaf as a post," Descus responded pleasantly. "Since you two seem to enjoy killing my men, I brought one that I wouldn't miss too much."

Aneira decided about then that Descus was the most confusing man she'd ever met, hands down. Perhaps even the maddest, too.

After a short walk, Aneira and Damien were led to a somewhat busy little camp of mercenaries, who had set up at the edge of the forest near to the shore of the lake. They were unceremoniously dumped into two makeshift cells, one beside the other, while their less-than-sane captor went off to make preparations for the trip to Arays.

After leaving strict orders and more than a few threats aimed at his men to not touch the girl. That was rather nice of him.

Aneira had been left untied and with all of her supplies, but she didn’t have any sort of chance to use her magic to free them; it took far too long and was far too obvious, and she didn’t want her tools to be taken from her.

She shuffled over to the barricade between herself and Damien and called, “Damien? Are you alright...?” She felt rather responsible for her current state. If she hadn’t been so weak, they wouldn’t have had to stop, and they wouldn’t have been caught... and now he was going to be tortured and eventually killed, and who knew what would happen to her?

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien ignored the sarcastic remark, choosing to be dragged along in silence and thinking about how to get out of this mess. It wasn't too long before they reached their camp, a fairly small bunch of men bustling about doing whatever it was that needed doing. They received looks, but no one approached, especially not after the orders to leave Aneira alone.

"I'm fine," he said flatly, covering his anger with a facade of complete calmness. Better to let no emotion through then letting Descus read him like an open book. He shook his head - Descus seemed completely mad, in his opinion. He struggled against the ties some more, even knowing it was wasted effort.

"I'm sorry," He said after a moment, the words strange on his tongue. He was thinking the exact opposite as Aneira - if he hadn't accepted her help, if he'd been stronger, if he'd been smarter... There were a dozen things he could have done to prevent this, and now what was going to happen? Were they going to get killed eventually?

"If I'd been able to stop them, or kill Anroth when I had the chance. Or even just died in the woods before you found me." He cut himself off and was silent for a moment. shows what happens when I involve myself with others. Almost forgot why I try to avoid that. - they always end up hurt. Or worse.

"Now what are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait? And what about you, how are you doing?" Descus didn't seem like he was rough, and she hadn't been shot or hit or anything other than the one time, but she was more...fragile than he was. Maybe she was hurt.

[Lujayn]

"I'm... I'm fine. Descus didn't do anything to me..." she replied quietly. "He's really confusing, isn't he? I mean, he went from hitting me to acting like a perfect gentleman in the space of seconds..." She nibbled on the end of her thumb, thinking. "Also, have you noticed that there's something a little... off with him? That smile he wears has nothing behind it..." She laughed lightly, self-conscious. "Or perhaps I am over-thinking things. Nevermind that, we need to think of a way to get out of here..."

Not that she had any ideas on how. There weren't many men here, but there were enough, and there was always at least one within eyesight. In fact, there was one who was paying a little too much attention. To her.

She shuffled back until her back was against the wall. "I don't like it here," she whined plaintively. "Mercenaries aren't nice people, and they do bad things to girls all alone." She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around then, resting her head on her knees.

"If we don't escape... and get taken to this... Arays person... what'll happen to me, do you think?" Aneira asked quietly.

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien nodded, though she couldn't see.
"Yeah, he does seem strange." He paused as a guard strolled by, making it obvious that he was trying not to look like he was listening to them. Once the guard was out of earshot, he spoke again. "It's almost as though he's in conflict with himself, with his own personality." He shook his head. "I don't like it." Obviously. Who would? But Descus was far more strange than most people.

He sighed at her next question.
"After they kill me, they won't have need of you. They'll likely try to get information from you, on how you're keeping me alive, or why you associate with me. And then they'll either let you go, or, more likely, kill you too." He put it bluntly, figuring she could handle it. He didn't mention just how they would try to get said information, or do said killing... He couldn't say for sure but it wasn't going to be nice. Arays was never nice. He was there when the bastard hung a father in front of his children for his own amusement, making up some story about how the man had stolen from him - the story had been an obvious lie, but no one had the spine to challenge him on it.

Which made him think of Grey. The shade was still inside Aneira, right? He didn't notice her leave. When Aneira fell asleep, would she make an appearance? That might cause problems. He doubted that Descus - or anyone else here- would take well to the sudden change in attitude. He voiced his concern to her, keeping his voice low and warily eying the men around their enclosure, some watching the two captives as though they were animals.

[Lujayn]

"Actually, I haven't heard much from her," Aneira replied, questing back in her mind for the shade. She seemed to be hiding, even. She seemed to be almost terrified. Aneira "listened in" and was able to glean a little bit from the garbled ramblings. "I think she's terrified of Descus. He seems to remind her of someone. Perhaps the one who killed her in life? I'm not sure. We might not have to worry much about her for now, I suppose."

She mulled over what Damien had told her. She'd more or less expected as much, and from what she'd gleaned about Arays from the smatterings of talk drifting around the camp, she figured that her torture and death would be as cruel as possible. She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

"I'm beginning to think that the stupidest decision of my life was to ever listen to my late Master..."

"Your late who?" came the inquiry from an increasingly familiar voice.

Caught off guard by Descus' sudden appearance, Aneira gave a startled shriek, slammed up against the back of the wall and curled her legs tightly up to her chest, staring at the assassin with no small amount of terror.

To his credit, he merely smiled blandly and presented her a hot cup. "One cup of broth for you," he said easily, walking over to Damien's make-shift cell, "And one cup of broth for your lover." He paused. "Oh, right, his hands are tied. Hmm..."

Aneira stared at him. "He's not my lover..."

"Really? I could have sworn you two were an item, considering how absolutely enraged he was when I hit you."

"He's not my lover!" Her voice had risen a few octaves, and she was starting to go quite red. She was thankful that Damien couldn't see her at the moment.

"I bet you want him to be," came Descus' happy response.

"NO I DO NOT!" She screeched, voice incredibly high-pitched, going a rather interesting scarlet. Now she was very thankful that Damien couldn't see her.

“Aw, she’s embarrassed, how cute.”

Aneira gave a muffled scream of frustration and snapped out a few choice curses. Descus merely laughed and walked away, being the horrible man that he was, with curses following behind him from the enraged little necromancer. It provided a few moments of entertainment for the mercenaries before Descus ordered them back to work.

“I hate him,” she seethed, still very much red and clutching the cup hard enough to make her knuckles white. “I hate him and I hope he falls off a cliff!”

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien absorbed this information. Grey was afraid of him? That was certainly saying something. As much as that information concerned him, he was relieved - if she'd made an appearance, it would almost guarantee their chance to escape would disappear.

He worked at the knots binding his wrists as she spoke. If he twisted his arm to the left - quite painfully, actually - he could reach the knot with two fingers. Not that two fingers could do much, but if he could reach it with the other hand too, then he might be able to slide the knot and undo the rope - unlikely, but possible. Maybe. He worked at this and was thinking of a reply when who would show up but Descus?

And right away he started making things..difficult. Damien, slightly red, listened in silence, knowing that if he said even one word to oppose Descus it would make the situation worse. listen to him, the bastard is trying to get a rise out of her! He fumed. And it was working fairly well, too. He clenched his teeth together, keeping silent. People stared, smirking, and he stared back.

When Descus wandered off, he stopped by Damien's cell.

"Nothing to say?" He asked, and Damien was silent, meeting the amused look with a frigid stare. "Not going to protect your lover? He laughed like he cracked a brilliant joke. "She doesn't seem to want to return your love, you know."

Don't even give him the time of day, He told himself. It's not worth it. After a second Descus, realizing that Damien wasn't going to speak a word to him, wandered off again, seemingly immensely pleased with himself.

He let himself calm down, them moved closer to the divide between his cell and Aneira's.
"Don't listen to him." He said, back to working the knots. He almost had them loosened, but it was getting more difficult - the rope had long since cut into his arms, leaving them somewhat of a bloody mess and making the rope slippery. "He's finding whatever will get a reaction to amuse himself." His voice became edged with steel. "He's going to try to wear us down, to antagonize us both in any way he can find."

Granted, that wasn't to say that the things Descus said didn't affect him. He was in full agreement with Aneira in wanting him to fall off a cliff, if killing him himself wasn't an option. However, he was better at hiding it.

"And I don't know if I'd drink whatever it was he gave you," he said, moving from the obviously unfavored previous topic. It could be just broth, but he didn't trust any of these men, even if they were under orders not to touch her.

[Lujayn]

"And I don't know if I'd drink whatever it was he gave you," she heard him say.

Too late; she'd already swallowed a large mouthful. It warmed her up some, which she was thankful for, and it tasted alright to her. "I don't think he'd poison me," she said, swirling the contents of the cup around. "Since your survival is dependent on my survival, and he being paid is dependent on your survival, so..." She sighed. "Plus, I'm still not doing too well... when I breathe it's like there's something bubbling in my lungs. I need as much nourishment as I can get. Poison or no, my life seems to be on a very tenuous thread."

She chewed on her lower lip, anxious over what she was about to say next. "Plus... I don't think he wants to hurt me, anyways. I'm... I'm not defending him! Nothing like that... but sometimes, when he looks over here, he looks... he looks sad, as if he's remembering something painful. I don't think he's happy about what he's doing."

She drank down some more of the broth, and was silent, thinking. The name "Black Bird" had rung a few bells, and now that she thought of it, when she had been an adolescent there had been many rumours drifting from the country next to hers, about a mercenary who was unbeatable, because he had no fear of death. Could this be the same man? He was old enough, surely; she had noticed that there was some grey in his hair. She wondered how he had lived so long, with his reckless behaviour and deadly profession.

The sun continued on its merry way, descending to hide partially behind the earth. Aneira and Damien were left on their own for the entire time, with only a mercenary checking up on them every so often. Things seemed to be busy, although she wasn't sure what they were doing. It looked almost like they were setting up a barrier of sorts.

“Damien, do you know-” She began, but was abruptly cut off by a large explosion from the other side of the camp.

Dust and small debris rained down into the lake, and fire roared in a blaze amongst the grove trees close to the riverside. There was much yelling and cursing and everyone ran over to the blaze to try and put it out before it leapt from the grove of trees to the forest proper- if that happened, they would be very much in trouble.

Aneira stared in dumb shock, before she realised that she had been given a valuable opportunity. Everyone was working on that blaze; no one was watching them. She might have enough time to summon a corpse to break them free...

“Damien, I’m going to try something... but there’s a chance it might go awry. Stay as far back into your cell as you can...” With that, she started on a pentagram, as quickly as she could. She made a few mistakes, but they wouldn’t cause too much of a problem... hopefully. There wasn’t that much time to make things perfect, after all. What worried her most was her health; she might not have enough strength to carry out the spell, and necromancy was incredibly unforgiving to failures.

She was dimly aware of the shouting and chaos, but pushed it out of her mind. She had to focus on the summoning, and the summoning alone. Muttering the beginning of the spell, she sought out the flow of death to find what she was looking for, certain that there had to be plenty of corpses in such a well-populated area. Already she was feeling the strain; the familiar feel of something like cold hands dragging something from her. She forced herself to keep going, seeking, seeking... there! She found three potential sources, and continued to the next part of the spell, to force the cadavers to move, and to follow her command.

She felt her control slipping already, and she ground out the words to the spell forcefully, feeling as if she were trying to speak through a mouthful of tar. She was being resisted, and heavily. Or perhaps she was weaker than she thought she had been. Regardless, she had to continue. This was always the hardest part, and she just had to get through it to the easier part after, which was just getting the summoned corpses to do what she wished them to do.

Her eyes were starting to change, too. The cold feeling that washed over her as the blue spilt passed its boundaries into the whites of her eyes, and then the burning sensation as the pupils widened to reveal a red centre. She didn’t know why this happened, just that it occurred whenever she performed a major necromantic spell. She was actually surprised it hadn’t happened earlier, first one she had brought Damien from the brink of death, and then when she summoned Grey to read the mercenary’s mind.

While she didn’t know why her eyes changed, she knew what they did; they enabled her to see every curve and twist and eddy of the Death Flow. She could see who was close to death, and if they were close enough, how long they had left, and what they were dying of. And it helped with controlling what she summoned, too.

Spitting out the final words, she gestured up with her arms, and all three corpses she had found came crawling up out of the earth. She’d only intended to bring up one, but had somehow connected to all three. No wonder it had been so hard. It could be to her advantage, however; if they were pursued, it would be good to have some backup.

She came back to herself, a massive headache on the horizon, covered in a cold sweat. She was freezing, as if she had been submerged into ice water and kept there. Not much she could do about that for now; she looked at her handiwork. As per usual, the corpses she had summoned had been killed violently, and evidence showed with broken limbs, deep wounds where there was still flesh, and cracked skulls twisted into horrified grimaces.

Gasping in some air, she sent a command to one of the corpses to break open the cells. It still was in possession of its weapon, and made short work of the hastily made prison. She stumbled out of the cell, quickly muttering up a protection ward around herself that shimmered briefly in the air before becoming invisible. It would not help matters if she were attacked by her own summonings, after all.

“Are you alright, Damien?” Aneira called out, and it was almost laughable. She was far from alright; she was pale as death, her lips blue, with dark circles under her eyes. She was trembling, looking as if she would collapse at any moment. She collapsed into harsh-sounding coughing, blood specking on her lips, stark against her paleness. “Oops...” she said weakly, “I think I’ve overdone it a tad...” She attempted to stand again, but her legs buckled under her and down she remained, gasping on the air as if she couldn’t force it into her lungs. That was almost the case; they felt full of blood, with barely enough room left for the air.

They didn’t have time for rest, however; the blaze was getting under control, and soon there would be mercenaries who remembered their two captives and run over to make sure they were still around. Time to get going, and fast.

[WolfEnchantress]

The explosion startled him before he could respond to Aneira. It had come from the far side of camp, and almost immediately there was a lot of shouting and direction - yelling going on. "What was that?" He said, almost to himself, and Aneira said, “Damien, I’m going to try something... but there’s a chance it might go awry. Stay as far back into your cell as you can...”

Back into his cell? What was she talking about? What was she going to do? He rose to his feet.
"Aneira, what are you-" He stopped when he heard her muttering. She was doing some sort of necromancy, and after she just got done saying that she wasn't doing too well. "You really shouldn't be doing any sort of thing that could make you worse, you know." He obviously didn't know that she was planning something as big as raising corpses.

While she spoke, he twisted painfully one last time, clenching at the knot with both hands. And, with the rope being slippery with blood and his knowledge of just how the knot was tied, it abruptly slipped free. He threw it to the ground in triumph and flexed his hands as they prickled, blood returning to them. He had two fairly nasty rope burns around both hands, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be handled.

His triumph was short lived as something crashed his way through his cell, tearing it apart as though it was made of straw. In a heartbeat he had one of the daggers they hadn't confiscated in his hand, ready to fight. But when he saw just what it was, he fell back with a cry of surprise, paling visibly - quite the show of emotion, coming from him. The thing didn't even seem to be alive, it was all hacked up and...well, dead.

"Aneira, what in hell did you do?" He called, a slight tremor showing in his words, quickly covered. He remembered how drained she was calling up a shade, and looked around for her, only to find her on the ground. Without hesitation, he scooped her up - even in a weakened state, she was light enough to carry with one arm - and positioned her so she could see what was going on. If she was still controlling the three corpses (and he hoped she was, or they were just running rampant on their own) she needed to see what was going on.

Unfortunately, one of the mercenaries happened to look their direction. Cursing, he set Aneira down behind him and ran to meet the four that had come running, passing up the three animated dead men and ignoring the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach from having his back to them. Without slowing his momentum, he plunged the blade into the leading man's neck, blood spraying everywhere. He blocked the second man's knife and dodged a kick from the other, moving as fluidly as a dancer.

But there was three more of them, and only one of him. He didn't know if the corpses were going to come and help out, but he knew he couldn't win against three, not without his full strength, and not while all three were far more armed than he was. But before he could weigh his options, two of them ran off to get help, apparently spying the walking, hacking dead men. Being violently disarmed, he lunged for the other man and, grabbing either side of his head, jerked it sideways so he heard the telltale snap.

As he turned, he saw his sword leaning against one of the makeshift buildings. It took no more than a second for him to grab it, and another to slide it over his shoulder. It gave him a sense of familiarity - the sword was something he would not leave without, even if it meant abandoning all of his other weapons.

He returned to Aneira, keeping an eye on the corpses, and picked her up again, a crazy part of his mind thinking that in any ordinary circumstance she would yell at him for it. And might later, but he ignored it.

"We're leaving," He said, pointing out the obvious, and began moving away from the camp. "Those... those things you're controlling... Will they hold the men off if they follow?" He wasn't even sure she could answer him, she looked like she was about to die. With a curse, he picked up his speed.

[Lujayn]

“What did I do? Raise corpses! ‘Tis what necromancy is for, after all,” Aneira replied dizzily. It felt as if bubbles were fizzing in her head. She was dimly aware of men coming, and Damien fighting, and then he picked her up.

“Of course they can. That’s what they’re for, after all,” she said easily. She coughed violently, blood splattering her cloak and dripping down the side of her mouth. “The only way to make them stop is to hack them to pieces- no small task- or to use powerful “light” magic, or holy magic... or whatever. I can’t really remember.” A trilled, borderline-maniacal laugh bubbled from her. “Or until I stop the spell... or... or if I die, and then the magic is released and usually they turn back to being dead corpses. Although that might happen soon anyways!”

Aneira let out a crazed, high-pitched laugh, strange eyes staring straight into nothing. Her head felt full of clouds; she could scarcely concentrate on anything. All she could see were the twists and eddies of the Death Flow, flowing around in a fury, angry at being used and doing its best to suck as much of her life out of her as it could. Not that she had much.

She felt hot, then cold, then hot again. It was hard to breathe, and she felt . “Leaving? Yes. That’s... a good plan.” She giggled, and then coughed violently once again.

Not only was she severely ill, but she was also losing her grasp on sanity. It was a common side-effect of necromancy, and the reason why so many necromancers were deemed “evil”. They could not longer tell what was right or wrong, and sometimes what was real or not. Those were eventually killed by others, or killed themselves by going overboard.

“Faster the better, I think,” she said, speaking as if she were in a parlour with all the time in the world. “Ah... that was very foolish... I hurried and got careless...” She gasped in some air, coughing up more blood. “Wasn’t meant to... raise all three... just wanted one to... get us out...” Another few ragged breathes. “Sorry...” What the apology was for wasn’t clear.

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien hissed a string of curses that would impress a sailor. Their situation did not look good, not one bit. Bells were clanging wildly now, and Aneira was beginning to sound crazy. He made sure the sword was secure, and left, utilizing all of what he learned from his master - how to be silent and quick at the same time, and leave no trace of where you had gone. If one left a trail, they could be followed as easily as a hunter might follow blood spatters of a deer he'd shot to find it.

He would have killed one or two of the corpses, which in theory should make it easier for Aneira to stay alive, but shouting quickly dispelled that idea. Killing tow of the corpses, even one, would do no good if they were caught by a dozen armed men because of it. She would just have to hang on.

Finally, he found an old hut by a stream. He knew they would be followed - they didn't know where he had gone, but they were making their best effort at finding him while trying to kill the three corpses. Very faintly, he heard the barking of dogs, and grimly shut the door behind him, somewhat grateful for the rest. Aneira was light, but he didn't have all of his strength.

Inside seemed abandon and dusty, but it would have to work. He gently set Aneira down against the wall (there was no furniture in the hut) and crouched in front of her.
"Aneira. How bad are you?" He asked, looking her over. It was a stupid question, but all he really wanted was to make sure she could hear him and comprehend what he said. He just wanted an answer to make sure she was still with him. He looked into her eyes - which were slightly unnerving, to be honest - and wondered just what it was she was seeing.

You're still connected to me, right?" He asked. Another stupid question. He was alive, wasn't he? He turned her head so that she was looking at him. Or, the direction of him. "Is there any way you can take some of my strength? Or I can give you some of it?" because you look like you're on the verge of death, he finished the sentence in his head. "They're looking for us, going to get search dogs. We need to keep moving, but we can't with you in this condition."

[Lujayn]

Aneira smiled, a vacant sort of expression, and she reached forward to take his head between two ice-cold hands. "Damien, you are a well enough man, but that is the most stupid idea that you can suggest." The harsh words were belied somewhat by an almost dreamy tone of voice. "It would be like the man who cut off the top of a blanket and sewed it to the bottom to make it longer. You are connected to I, and so we are sharing our life, for now. I would need an outside source..."

She dropped her hands, and leaned back, eyes closing. "Perhaps grab one of the dogs, if they come by here... one of them would be able to sustain me for a while..." She took in a shuddering breath before falling victim to another coughing spasm, blood splattering into her hands. "What I really need, though... is rest... food... and a warm place..."

Aneira made a vague sort of hand gesture, cutting off the magic to one of the corpses. That would help, lessen her burden somewhat. "There are two corpses now..." she murmered, "And they're causing our little persuers some amount of grief. If we get caught, they're not going to be very pleased with us, I don't think."

An understatement, to be sure.

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien flinched from her touch: Her hands were cold as ice. She sounded almost delirious. But he listened anyways... A dog, he could get.

"Okay. Wait here." What a pointless thing to say - as if she was going anywhere. There was starting to be a tally of stupid things he'd said in the past two hours. Quickly, he opened the front door and froze, listening. He could hear the dogs baying, not too far off. He waited for what seemed like forever until he could hear them better and then yelled out, not a word, just a noise. immediately the barking grew louder, and one came thrashing through the trees, lips pulled back in a furious, determined snarl. It was pretty big, maybe Rottweiler size. He waited until it was nearly on him and then kicked it in the chin.

The dog's teeth clacked together and blood flowed from its mouth as it yelped and fell back - it had bit it's own tongue. But by the time it regained itself, he was on it, kneeling on it's chest and putting one knee on its neck. It thrashed about wildly, making tearing a strip of his shirt off difficult. But he managed, and reached out to tie it around the thing's muzzle. Savagely it jerked up, sinking fangs into his arm. He clenched his teeth together, refusing to make noise, and pried the thing from him, tying it's jaws shut - a dog had amazing bite force when closing its mouth, but significantly less strength to open it.

He scooped it up, ignoring the flailing. If the dog was here, the people weren't far behind, corpses or not. He stumbled back inside and put the dog before Aneira, holding its two front paws in one hand and the two back paws in the other. A low snarl came from its throat.

"Got the dog. Now use it, fast, because we have even less time now that the dog came this way," He said, casting a worried glance at the door. He could hear the other dogs now, trying to stay one the trail of the first one, and was glad they weren't very good tracking dogs.

[Lujayn]

Aneira searched through her bags after Damien left, seeing if she had any of the herbs that helped her coughing. Being as weak as she was, she gave up after searching through only a few bags.

Leaning against the wall with her eyes closed, she silently chastised herself for making such a foolish mistake, as if she were a novice once more. She should have paid more attention, been more careful. One summoning would have been enough, and she wouldn’t have had to expend so much energy, leaving her in such a state. And because of that, she would possibly die, and Damien with her.

She banged her head against a wall. Why had she hurried so? A few more seconds wouldn’t have mattered.

A ghost of smile crept into her lips at that. Hindsight always brought with it such clarity.

Damien arrived then, snarling dog in tow and with a bleeding arm. She sighed inwardly; why was she always causing him such problems?

As he held down the dog, Aneira placed her hands (warily, and with more than a little apprehension) on the dog’s head, muttering the words to bring its life to bolster her own. The dog, unsurprisingly, felt that something was wrong almost immediately, and began thrashing about in Damien’s grip. As time went on, the thrashing got weaker and weaker and Aneira took more and more life from the animal, and a low, frightened whine came from its throat.

She paused, biting her lip, before continuing again, but she had to stop when the dog whined again. She didn’t really have enough life yet, although she felt she’d be able to stand on her own now, but she didn’t have the heart to take anymore from the frightened creature before her.

Her softness would be the end of her one day, she was sure of that. She had to keep going; if she didn’t Damien would die. And she didn’t want that.

Aneira placed her hands back, to try again, when the make-shift muzzle slipped off the dog and it licked her hand, whining and staring up at her with frightened eyes. She stared at the dog, then sighed, thudding her head against the wall again.

“I’m good,” she said weakly, to Damien. She wondered what he thought about this; he wouldn’t have a problem with killing a dog.

She blinked. Why did she care what he thought of her? She pushed that to the side; no point in thinking on that now. Or ever.

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien increased his grip as the dog went wild, instinctively knowing that something not in its favor was going on, but it slowly became weaker as she took the life from it. The look in its eyes went from rage to fear - it was somewhat painful to watch. He'd hoped it would have at least been a quick death for the beast, but it looked like that was the opposite of how it was going to go. Either way, it was just a mutt - Descus wouldn't miss it.

But Aneira stopped when the dog appealed with a pitiful whine and a lick of her hand. All it wanted now was to live, to be free. He raised an eyebrow but didn't push the issue, instead releasing the dog's legs. Immediately it fought its way to a half - standing position and managed to get to the corner of the room, where it curled up and watched the two humans warily, its focus going between the closed door and them.

"How much did you get from it?" He asked. It was only one dog, and she didn't take all of its life. And being so weak as she was, it can't have given her all she needed. The sound of the other dogs chasing them grew louder, and he risked a look out the window. Thankfully, he couldn’t see anything yet, but it wouldn’t be long until they found this hut.

He picked up the strip he had used to bind the dog’s muzzle and tied it around the bite marks in his arm. It probably wasn’t sanitary, but it was better than letting it bleed. “If you’re good to stand, we should really go…” As much as he hated pushing the issue, if they didn’t they would both die.

As it was, there was a very strong possibility of that happening, even if they did leave now. More likely than not Descus would be absolutely livid with the escape of his prisoners – and the slaughter of many of his men. Enough so that he might just decide that it wasn’t worth it to deliver them alive if he caught them again – with so many of his men dead, he could always blame it on an accident. Maybe a bear. Or more likely an ambush.