Into the Dark

[Roger Smith]

In his sleep, several things came back to him. Names, and fragmented bits of memory. It made things slightly more clear as to what was happening to him, or at least what had happened to him. It didn't shed any light on the current circumstances, but it left him slightly less confused as to his past.

He slept through the night, not even twitching at the disturbance of the harried villagers. Though as morning began to draw near, he finally stirred, curling into a ball unconsciously, the dull aches from the stress of his arrival re-asserting themselves on his waking mind with fresh vengeance. He groaned pitifully, but forced himself to awaken fully, rolling over to haltingly climb to a sitting posture.

His eyes still bleary from sleep, he gave a quick look around, seeing only the child and the otherwise empty building. A faint smell lingered upon the air, the smell of burning....something. It was familiar to him, but he couldn't place it exactly. Making an effort, he rose back to his feet again, laying one hand upon his sword, still jammed blade-first into the ground where he had left it when he collapsed into sleep the prior night.

It took an effort of will, but he turned to the boy, and managed to get a few words out. "You....have my thanks...for your aid."