"Gareth?" Catrin asked softly. Gareth tore his eyes from the flames, and met her clear blue gaze. For an instant, Gareth wished she would smile once more, like she used to back when…

"Yes, Catrin? If the fire bothers you, I can put it out." Catrin almost smiled, and shook her head slightly.

"It’s not that. I just…. I just want to distract you. I saw your face, you were thinking about…home." Gareth threw a stick at the campfire, the fire soared upward to devour it and he shifted uncomfortably. "It’s in the past, Gareth, we should try and move on…no matter how difficult that may seem"

"No!" Brennan broke in furiously, the reflected fire making his eyes seem scarlet rather than his usual soft brown. "Catrin, don’t start again. We are going to make them pay for what they did! What they did to your families! To my…my sister!"

"Revenge? Please, Brennan, Gareth, you still cannot hope to bring back our home by killing the men responsible." Catrin pleas fell upon deaf ears. Both Brennan and Gareth returned to kindling the fire in silence. "Gareth! Forget this vengeance! It will accomplish nothing. We should live out our lives for our village and our families." Catrin searched her friends’ faces for any response, but they remained stoic, cold, and determined. Dejectedly, Catrin sat down next to Gareth and focused on the cackling flames.

"I will follow you Gareth." She sighed heavily, "Wherever you may lead."

They crouched in the thick foliage. Gareth held both of Catrin’s smooth, and damp hands tightly in his own. The screams were fading, dying off. The effect was hideous. Cracking, miserable howls, more comparable to animal cries than human. Laughter was most dominant, smothering the pitiful shrieks, and echoing throughout.

The noise was gone. No laughs, no screams, no faint pleading or roaring flames. Gareth led the way back into the village, still clutching desperately to Catrin’s solid, real hand. He expected to see the village as it was during sunset, slowing down, covered in sweet pink light. He knew it wasn’t possible, but he could not imagine his village any differently. Now it was Hell. Skeletal remains of familiar buildings protruded from ashy piles. Several blood sodden bodies littered the ashes, the scarlet and gray mixing to a surreal dark violet. Familiar faces distorted to nearly demolished versions of their former existence. A clear rain of tears mixed with the blood, ashes and embers.

Morning came, the sun rising blood red in the east. Silently, the survivors doused the fire, and turned away from the sun, west, the direction the marauders were heading. They walked languidly, all of them feeling sharp pangs of hunger and without gold, they were likely to become accustomed to them. They chewed on edible leaves to alleviate the want of food, unsuccessfully. Though Catrin had mentioned they would not be able to eat any sort of meat for a very long while. And would do so by choice. Catrin continued to occupy his thoughts. He had used to watch her going through her chores, singing during the Midsummer Festival, dancing with the other boys in the village. She had always been special, but now…she was all that mattered. Perhaps vengeance was not the way.

Gareth plodded on, thinking of Catrin’s words, to start over, a new life… then dismissed them, just as quickly from his mind. Vengeance had to be the only way. Never could he live a life forgetting what had happened, even with Catrin by his side. All he could see was his home in ruins, decimated by merciless invaders. It haunted every moment; everything he saw reminded him of home. No, he could never give up. Not until he found the ones responsible and exacted his vengeance. Then perhaps he and Catrin could live together in peace.

The day passed slowly, and uneventfully. The forests of southern Hastean devoid of all life save vegetation, seemed to have no end. Trees exactly alike covered their path, leaving no method of finding how far they had gone. Gareth led the way, all the while, his inner conflict continued. How would they wreak their vengeance, three against hundreds? What could they alone hope to accomplish? Gareth found himself wishing he was still blinded with rage, or blinded by grief, then at least he would have an excuse for leading his friends to their deaths. His eyes kept lingering on Catrin, he relived the unspeakable relief when he had found her picking flowers at the lake near their village, instead of in their sieged home. For her to survive through what she had, only to perish because of the one she trusted was unthinkable. Even Brennan, whom Gareth had utterly despised prior to the massacre, he could not let down. The other boy’s home had been on the southern edge of the village, and was one of the first to be ravaged. He had seen them kill his little sister Melian before he had raced to find Gareth. Gareth, who had been going off to fish near the lake, when the first screams reached his ears. Brennan was utterly unlikable and a sniveling, irritating person, but not even he deserved to witness his families’ murder, and die without avenging them.

"Gareth, do you hear that?" Catrin asked softly, putting her hand on his arm. Gareth listened intently and heard far-off noises, sounding of drunken songs and laughter.

"Yes, Catrin. It must be them." "Brennan, come on." They quickened their pace through the thick trees, and the clamor increased.

"Gareth, is it them?" Brennan demanded, halfway drawing his knife. Gareth dropped to his knees and slowly crawled forward to the end of the trees and the beginnings of a clearing.

"Shut up!" Catrin hissed, "Their camp is right in front of us!" Gareth nodded slightly and motioned to the Bedian camp made entirely of ragged, well worn tents and pilfered belongings from their home. Gareth began to tremble as he recognized some as his own. "There could be some survivors from our village there!" Catrin whispered shakily in barely contained excitement.

"That settles it, that will be our first priority then, we will search for survivors first. We have to make this discreet." Gareth sucked in a deep breath and treaded forward. "We aren’t soldiers, and we can’t fight, but if we can manage this we won’t have to." "This is really strange though, why would they leave their own camp hardly guarded." He muttered to himself. Catrin beamed at him, motioning to the drunken soldiers farther away, tripping and stumbling.

"It seems, Gareth, we have caught a bit of good fortune. Celebrating their victory over unarmed helpless civilians" She spat in disgust, truly startling Gareth. "I’m sorry Gareth. I needed to say that. The last remnants of our home may be here. We may not be alone. I am ready."