Lindsay
Schopfer

By Lindsay Schopfer

Keltin stumbled, tripping over Ru’s stiffened foot. The dead man’s weight shifted on his aching shoulders and he found himself staggering drunkenly just to keep his footing. Weedon grunted on Ru’s other side but made no comment as Keltin regained his grip. They continued on, two men silently bearing the burden of a fallen comrade.

“Can I help?” asked Bor’ve’tai.

Keltin wiped the sweat from his brow and looked back at the Loopi. He was still carrying Corporal Lewis’ weight upon his shoulders without a word of complaint, but Keltin could see the Loopi’s muscular arms trembling with the strain of more than an hour’s constant taxing.

Keltin shook his head and gave a weak smile.“We’ll manage.”

Bor’ve’tai nodded. He cocked his head to the side, a frown of concentration on his dark features.

“Henry is returning,” he said after a moment.

Keltin looked up the road. Sure enough, the lanky hunter came into view at the road’s next rising.

“The camp’s just ahead,” he announced. “We’ve made it.”

“I’ll go on ahead and get some help,” offered Pollik, his weathered face red and sweaty from the unaccustomed exercise.

The old trapper jogged awkwardly ahead of them and Henry turned to Keltin and Weedon still struggling forward. “Can I help either of you two?”

Keltin was about to gratefully reply when Weedon suddenly fell to his knees with a gasping sob. Keltin struggled to keep Ru from falling on top of the young man and Henry quickly moved to help him. They resumed their slow pace forward, Keltin’s joints screaming for relief as Weedon followed behind them.

At last, the barn and farmhouse of the camp was visible. Pollik returned with several other hunters and Keltin sighed with relief as Ru was gently lifted from his shoulders. The hunters from camp all seemed to be asking questions at the same time. Henry was busy trying to tell what had happened when Sergeant Bracksten stepped forward. The giant of a man looked from Corporal Lewis to Ru, then turned to Keltin.

“What happened, Moore?”

Keltin told the Sergeant of the beast attacks between gasping gulps of air. Bracksten listened, saying not a word until Keltin had finished.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll report this to Baron Rumsfeld. In the meantime, take the bodies to the east side of the house. Corporal Alvor and his squad will bury them there.”

Keltin watched the faces of the dead men as they were carried away. Pale and stained with their own blood, how long would they haunt his dreams? Then again, the thought of nightmares seemed almost welcome to him if it meant rest. Lack of sleep and the hard march back to camp had sapped his last reserves of strength. He struggled to resist the temptation to let his trembling legs give way and sink into an exhausted slumber on the welcoming ground. It took him several moments to realize that Sergeant Bracksten was speaking to him and his companions.

“…as for you, you’re all relieved of duty until I tell you otherwise. That’s all for now. Dismissed.”

Keltin hesitated. He wanted so badly to sleep, but Bor’ve’tai and the others were looking at him expectantly. Leaning heavily on his rifle, he called to the sergeant’s broad, retreating back.