The Life of Wurz Chapter 32 // Extract ‘The Consequence of Fear’

You look away from the small, pitiful bodies of those that died. You reach down and gather your knives. You take a few moments to collect your thoughts and suppress that all too familiar seethe of anger that you know is close, so close to bubbling free. This clearing is a nexus of sorts, a place where multiple paths meet & where the river escapes for a few moments from underground and rushes over pebbles and rocks. People have passed here enough to show their sign, so why did at least one small family die of exposure, or starvation or attack when they had the means to stay alive for perhaps a few more days? It would have only taken a few more miles for them to reach the Manse and get to safety. They must have been terrified. How can you be so scared for yourself that you hide from shelter and prefer to die here?

You get only a few hundred yards before you turn back and return to the wagon. After arranging the bodies as gently as you can together in a swath of blankets, you spare some of your fire-oil, spark a flame and then walk away from the pyre. Marten asks you for orders.
“West.” You reply as the baresark roars in your ears again, “West to War.”

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