The next day

The early morning sun had seen them rise slowly, as dew lay scattered on each blade of grass they had made their beds of, Lucan and his companions awoke groggily. Up first was Althaea, who had snuck out of Lucan’s arms and left him to snore alone underneath his blanket. She had gathered some small things, a knife, a pouch and her thoughts as well. The latter was the one who kept her most busy, as she left the river side in search of some flowers she knew grew in the area. In truth, Althaea rarely left the safety of her own little patch of forest, she remembered days when all was mostly peaceful and she and the other witches of the woods could wander freely, gathering materials to strengthen their magic. Yet the wars of men had disturbed the natural order of things and now Althaea was one of the last witches who remained in the woods she called home. All the rest had moved further north, to the mountains of Scandar, where pines grew nearly as tall as the grey peaks reaching ever skyward. She missed them sometimes, the others, perhaps one day she’d decide to join them, though for now she was determined to protect her home. This ‘Commander Cormac’ was not the first human to request her presence and if he was anything like the others, all he’d be after would be the power of her magic to vanquish his enemies. Althaea was not interested.

Having kneeled down by some brush growing underneath the limbs of an oak, Althaea held in between her fingers the small red flower she recognized as a blood lily. To most this ordinary flower might serve as some colorful gift to a lovestruck maiden, but Althaea knew that her petals and stem could be used in a number of concoctions, most of which poisonous. Quickly she gathered a bushel, storing them into the pouch she carried. But just as she had folded the last into the pouch, her ears perked. Behind her she could suddenly hear the sound of snapping twigs and shuffling feet, the sound of slow, tight breathing from a man attempting to remain quiet. Just as she heard him edging closer, she turned around fiercely, sticking out the knife she carried and rushing to stand up straight. “What be your business sneaking up on me?!” She said sternly. The man in front of her had clearly not expected her to hear him, as he gasped the second she turned around and looked at him. He was a nasty looking man, with thick jowls and bushy sideburns. His shoulders though were broad, the kind a seasoned warrior might sport, his hefty stomach was covered by a set of chainmail and Althaea thought she recognized the red insignia of the Eastern Army. Though looking him up and down, her eyes were mostly concerned with the sword he wore on his belt, on which he already rested his hand.

“Sneaking? I was not sneaking… But now that I have found you, girl, what be your business all alone in this here forest?” He smiled a dangerous smile, showing crooked, yellow teeth, some of which had been chipped and broken. “You are alone, aren’t you? Not to worry sweet thing, I’ll take proper care of you…” Althaea tried to back up, as the man kept edging closer to her, but quickly found her back pressed against the oak tree. There she stood with worried eyes, she was by no means helpless, but Althaea knew that much of her strength was tied to her home, from which she had traveled further than she had ever done before.

“Stay back you vile creature!” She barked, producing a bolt of blue flame from her fingertips. The fire had meant to be far more substantial, but in the end came out as more of a sigh, than a storm. It had stopped the man in his tracks though, yet still he seemed unimpressed, laughing at her openly.

“Do you truly believe a little spark like that will stop me? I’ve made short work of far better fighters than you.” Again he stalked closer to her, until he stood but a few feet away and Althaea could smell the rancid smell of his clothes and the scent of wine on his breath. He had moved his hand away from his sword, but Althaea saw it slide down towards his crotch, where it began fiddling with his belt.

Just as she feared the worst would happen, running through her thoughts to try and think of any spell which might manage to save her, a loud blow, followed by a vicious crack and a shocked groan woke her from her worries. The man stood still, his eyes bulging from his head, his limbs gone stiff. For half a second Althaea was completely lost on what had happened, until she saw Lucan’s shadow loom over her, standing behind the man, and watched him pull his axe from the man’s back, to swing it down once more and burry it into the back of his skull, all the way down to his chin. Blood splattered on her face as the man sunk down to his knees, the axe still lodged somewhere in his neck. Althaea was at a loss for words, all she could do was watch the man roll over in front of her feet and lay there in a growing puddle of his own blood.

Lucan walked over, grabbing hold of the leather bound handle of his axe and pulling it violently from the man’s skull. Althaea stared at him wordlessly, seeing him peer over his shoulder, in search of more danger. “I sensed something was wrong, I don’t know how. Are you okay?” Lucan stepped closer and laid his hand on her shoulder, at first Althaea pulled away from his touch, her body still riddled with fear. But as his large hand moved upwards to her neck, rubbing his thumb on her cheek and pushing a strand of red hair behind her ear, Althaea’s heart beat began to slow once more.

“I-I’m okay, thank you.” Lucan hung his axe back on his belt and wrapped both his hands around her waist. In a quick, smooth motion he pulled her up off of her feet and lifted her over the body, putting her down again some few feet away. “Wait, before we leave.” Althaea began to rummage in one of the small bags attached to her belt and pulled out a tiny glass vial. Still she stood shaking slightly on her feet, it had been a while since she had been in this much danger. Lucan looked down at her somewhat confused, clearly in a hurry to leave. Althaea handed him the vial and pointed towards the body, “blood of the enemy, collect some for me, please.” Though unsure of why, Lucan did not argue with her, instead he knelt down quickly, filled the vial messily with the man’s blood and rubbed the excess from the glass with the bottom edge of his tunic.

“We really do have to go now Althaea. This one looks like a scout, but where there’s one, there’s more.” Althaea hadn’t yet seen this determined side of Lucan, but staring up at him now, he looked every part of a soldier. His eyes were stern and the shadow cast along the length of his broad chest showed a certain grandeur she had not expected to find. Now it was her turn not to argue, so Althaea let Lucan guide her by the hand back to the river, glad to feel his skin against hers, glad to have him so close to her.