"I can't believe you left one of your own, on her own!" Fury cried out. Heather smiled; her arms crossed.
"Oh, Queen Fury or Fury Queen, you should know our worlds, though linked, are not, in fact, the same. Qondile is able and an opportunity for her will appear. She'll bring him back."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then she'll die rightfully, having failed all of us.
"How can you say that?" Fury stopped, cooled and shook her head. "You really do have demonic ways."
Heather laughed. "There are no such things as demons. Only survival through strength. You'll see when she returns. See if she's apologetic or upset."
"Obviously she'll be upset."
"Really queen? Would you react in such a way?"
"Of course, especially in my correct role." Fury said puffing herself up.
It looked as though she were trying to look ′distinguished'. It may have worked if Heather had not known her, if only she'd never seen her loud, drunk and mixed between multiple other drunkards, if she'd never seen her wallowing in mud or in a prison cell.
"So, you're telling me that you would prefer everyone be afraid for a warrior as if they were a child? You would prefer to be treated like a weakling and be expected to die or be treated like a warrior and be expected to live?"
Fury opened her mouth but hesitated. Heather had her there and she knew it.
"The ego of an individual is powerful, but fragile. It shatters when struck."
"Too true, but like the very muscles we work so hard to grow, we would fall apart without it. She has lost a lot of blood, mayhap you could get one of your best to remove any traces of blood. Pick it up and return it to be left in the hole." Heather said patting Fury's shoulder with her good arm.
"Not a problem, let us begin the proper work." Fury said covering Heather's head with her one hand.
Hawk was called to clean the blood in the area. She ran off, disappearing into the shrubbery and returning with a spade and multiple buckets of water. Cleaning the blood off was vital. There was always the risk of the enemy using a Jingelor[5]
The rest began their work. There were thirty-five bodies in total, each stacked neatly. Deep in the forest and a good distance away from the road was a hole ten meters deep. Work began striping the dead of everything. Rumours of humans swallowing heirlooms led to their stomachs being cut opened to their throats.
Nothing was found, making the slow and bloody work futile.
The only good to come from the dead came from reclaiming their arrowheads with knives, a brick for those caught behind the odd ribcage or skull.
It was bloody work; one would have struggled to identify the leftovers as human. The pillaging yielded clothing, weapons and tools.
The carriage was broken down and used to cook the horse meat too good to be thrown into the ditch. Qondile staggered into their circle, covered in blood, bleary eyed and delirious. She had Finch on her shoulder. Bits of the man in her hands.
"What took so long?" Heather yelled.
"I couldn't find the right time while he held me by my sword, I guess I overestimated him, sorry." Qondile said with a bowed head.
Heather nodded and directed her to the hole.
Behind Heather, Hawk was expertly removing any blood on Qondile with a cloth. Heather noticed Hawk look up past Heather's shoulder, her eyes were wide and gaping. Everyone stopped. Heather didn't make sense of what could cause them to be so intense. Then, she froze in a way she'd never…
…completely.
Her every function broke down and had to reset before she could have the presence mind to yell stop.
The oracle's carriage was there.