Updated: May 15, 2021
Rúna could taste blood. Thick and cloying, it clung to her nose, her blade, her armor. Smoke and steel, the shouts of soldiers and the cries of the dying around her drowned out her thoughts as she cleaved her blade through another soft body. Before red even stained the soldier's lips, she was pulling her blade free and driving it through the shoulder joint of another’s armor, piercing yet another beating heart.
Again and again. Cut after cut. She took life after life.
Her heart weighed leaden in her chest.
As she twisted to deal another killing blow, something sharp bit into her side. The world went wobbly. She looked down to find a sword sliding out from the gap in her plate armor just over her ribs. Gasping she looked up at her attacker.
He was sneering, blonde braids and beard matted and blood stained. He raised his sword for the killing blow.
“Rúna,” he said, his sneer softening.
“What?” she breathed.
“Rúna. Rúna, wake up.”
Rúna’s senses slowly returned to her as consciousness flooded her. She heard the ocean, smelled the saltiness of the water, sweetness of the sea asters, and a familiar, earthy warmth. There were gentle hands on her face, in her hair, the old ache in her ribs from a wound long healed.
“Rúna, it’s alright. You’re dreaming.” A soft voice cooed.
Rúna, finally, opened her eyes. Blinking, she took in her surroundings. The cove. The flowers hung to dry from the ceiling. The embers of the fire were dark and cold in the early morning. The warm light of dawn filtering into their little shelter.
Fiadh’s fingertips at her hairline. Her brow slightly furrowed with worry, her eyes soft as she searched Rúna’s face.
Rúna realized she was warm. Warmer than usual. She glanced down only to realize Fiadh had covered her with her seal coat.
Alarmed, Rúna’s eyes met the selkie’s once more and Fiadh must have read the questions there.