Yilgtig

Dead scattered across the fields of gritty dirt and ash. East-men and Hill-men alike, crimson seeping into the ground. Few of the Hill-men had survived the fight, and fled back towards the local villages for safety and fresh warriors while providing safety for the child now in their custody. Few had returned, and The Young Hunter included. 

The fight had raged for several hours as the local Hill-men had gathered and ambushed those within the camp. Steel sang and crashed, arrows whistled and found their mark. The East-men had been pinned within their camp and unable to flee, though a sound filled with hills around them with something all to familiar to The Young Hunter.

The east man laid along the cot and made not a sound as he breathed in the dimly lit room. The candles flames licked the air softly as it it burned and gave off just enough light to see that part of the room, but still partly leaving the other side in shadowy void. Keen eyes watched him quietly, studying him, taking notes, thinking as he did.