The path along the river was difficult to traverse. What seemed to be a wider path than the one that they were taking through the forest turned out to be an uneven terrain of muddy sinkholes. It was not long before they had to dismount their horses who were constantly getting stuck in the mucky shores. They were slow and miserable as the plotted east.

"What a day," Jon said as he slapped the back of his neck. "We wake up in a hole, then we deal with the mud, now the bugs. Not to mention the time we are losing.”

The view of the Frostfall from a distance was beautiful and the river ran clean and true, but when the three were down in the mud, the scene lost it's luster. Small pools of water collected at the banks made perfect breeding grounds for all sorts of flies that loved to bite any manner of animals. Both the riders and their steeds were subject to the torment as they trudged onward in the morning light.

Frits was hot and sweaty. His arm ached and files buzzed around his head. Every step he took felt like he was moving a ton of stone. He felt as if he was about to burst out with a yell in frustration when he spied a path on the side of the bank. The path looked dry and broad enough for them to walk on.

"Finally," he said with a heavy sigh. “There is another path ahead."

The other two half-heartedly cheered and they took the new way as the riders and their horses shook off the mud. The bugs let up, which lifted their spirits. They still heard the buzz and chirp of various beetles as they continued on. Every so often, they could hear a frog croak and see a rabbit run along the path. The rushing water and soft breeze gave a soft ambience to the path.

"What a difference a few feet over makes," Eva said. Her voice was filled with relief.

"Agreed," Frits said with a smile.

They made their way through the tall grass and bushes for the better part of the morning. The path bent and twisted, contouring with the unruly river. Finally, around midday, they passed another turn and saw their goal in the distance.

"We made it," Frits said with delight.

The three left their horses around the bend and crept closer to the bridge. The structure itself was an impressive build for being so far from any major settlements. It was made with many gray bricks and was broad enough for five horses to walk abreast on it.

On the far side of the bridge there was an abandoned watchtower. It was a tall building made of stone and wood. The base of the structure had a water mill that hung in the river, slowly turning with the gentle outlet of current it touched.

"At one point, this place was a small guard outpost," Eva explained. "It was abandoned after the forest was deemed cleared of any major threats from large networks of bandits, to trolls wandering about. It was after this that they finished the construction of the northern border outposts. They thought it would not be worth while to have another outpost here."

Jon chuckled and shook his head, "What irony. What I would give to have a garrison of Hailgaladrian troops there to come to our aide."

"Funny thing is, I think I missed it on our way to Frostwatch," Frits said as he squinted at the stone structure.

"You were never the most observant one in the bunch," Eva chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"The road looks clear, but we should get a closer look," Frits said uneasily.

They crept closer to the road and it proved to indeed be empty.

"We look to be okay," Frits said. "So long as that guard tower is empty."

"Should we risk searching it?" Jon asked as he looked suspiciously at the dark and old building.

"No, it would take too much time. We need to get moving," Eva said as she turned back to the horses.

"I disagree," Frits said. "If they are in there, it is all over. We have to know."

Eva looked frustrated and she turned to him and said, "Well, what do you propose?"

Frits looked back at the building that stood in ominous silence. He felt the same as he did during the night as he peered out into the dark trees. It was the unease of someone, or thing, watching him.

At last, the royal messenger took a breath out and said, "I will check. It will be quick."

***

Frits left his companions to travel under the large, stone bridge.

"It is the only way to go without being seen," Jon shrugged after they had discussed how best to approach the bridge.

Without a ledge to walk over, Frits plunged into the river. An icy blast greeted his senses as he took jagged inhales and exhales. The water was a straight drop here, but the cobblestone made it easy for Frits to grab the edge and walk his hands along the side of the stone. His arm and shoulder hurt at first, but the freezing cold refreshed him and he moved along. Under the bridge, every breath, every move echoed off the stone as the water rushed past him in violent torrents.

As he went along, his mind went away to his family and Sasha. They had been a comfort to him when everything became too overwhelming. Then, he slipped off the stone.

Frits was dragged underwater as he slammed into the side of the stone. The current dragged his legs back to dangle in the river as his hands grasped at the slippery rocks. His light armor seemed to weigh as heavy as a ton of stone as it dragged him down.

Should have taken it off, what a stupid thing to forget, he thought to himself as he struggled to grip the stone.

As he held on, pain from his injuries shot throughout his body and he grunted. After a breath, he mustered all the strength he could and pulled his chest out of the water. After another breath to steady himself, he continued on.

The rest of the passage under the bridge went by without further issue. After the slip, Frits was sure to keep his mind for wandering any further. When we came to the other side, there was a short dock. It was clear that at some point, people had traveled here on boats.

Not a bad idea, Frits thought. The river is probably the quickest way to the capital from here.

Frits spied and climbed up and old, rotted ladder that barely held his weight. Once he was on the dock, he sat crouched and listened. All was eerily quiet. Only the slow lap of water on the old mill wheel could be heard here. With the confidence that no one was watching this way, he slowly walked forward as the rotting dock creaked under his feet.

The door to the building was worn, but moved open with an easy push. To Frits' shock, the place was in decent order. There were some provisions and the place was not horribly dirty.

Probably from the messengers. I am sure some come through here and stay the night from time to time, he thought.

Frits made his way through the large room that had definitely been a barracks at one point. Bunks were at the far end of the room, the kitchen was close to the entrance, and fireplace in the center.

A fireplace, Frits was shocked that it took him until just now to realize that a healthy fire was crackling away in the room. Before he could react, a strong man tackled him from behind.

Frits was slammed down to the ground, face first. He was dizzy and in shock as he flipped around, but the man was still on him. His stinking breath and beard stained with ale and old food flooded Frits' senses.

"Caught ya, you rat," a deep voice boomed in his ears that rang from the fall.

As he laid in a daze, a hard blow from a punch rocked Frits. The Hailgalad soldier put his hands up in defense and caught the man from delivering another blow. To Frits' horror, this one came with a short and crude blade. The northfolk pushed the blade down slowly at Frits' neck. It shook as each struggled against each other, but it gradually came down towards him.

Frits let out a whimper as he struggled and the man laughed. "Weak, all you lot are weak. Nice and soft, easy to kill."

In an act of desperation, Frits rocked his body and thrust his armor-covered knee into the groin of his attacker. The man gave a guttural yell and pulled back. Frits took his chance and blitzed toward the man.

The messenger surged forward with all the pain and frustration of the past day. It invigorated him with a power and focus much greater than he could muster in a normal circumstance. After all, this was no normal circumstance. This was the difference between life and death.

He took this enemies blade and forced it into the brute's neck. The large man chocked and fell back into a table. Within moments, he struck the ground and fell silent and still.

"What the," a voice came up from behind Frits.

It was another solider that saw the commotion and started to run in fear.

Frits knew he could not let her run and warn the others, so he drew his sword and chased her down. He tackled her and struck her back with his sword. It was a quick death. When it was over, Frits staggered back and stared at his hands.

They were bloody, and warm blood trickled down his face. The encounter had all been instinctual. He knew he had to do these things to save his life, but he was horrified by the scene. His breath was jaded and his heart beat out of his chest.

He fell down to one knee and closed his eyes as he thought back to seeing Sasha and her radiant smile. He thought about having and ale with his friends at the Stonework Tavern. He thought of his mother's embrace. After a few calming breaths, he was steady once more and had found his head.

Frits looked up and saw he was standing under the stairs that led to the top of the watchtower. He thought of just leaving and going back to his companions, but he knew he had to investigate the tower as well.

He let out a heavy sigh and said calmly to himself, "Come on Frits, you got this."

The messenger tried for the dusty stairs , but as he stepped they creaked terribly. A shot of panic hit his heart as his head swiveled around, ready for another attack. Then, he saw a shabby ladder that reached up to the highest point of the tower. He stepped up on it and it seemed to hold is weight.

Here we go, he thought to himself.

The adrenaline was wearing off as he climbed up the rickety rungs. With his senses returning to normal, pain returned to him once more as his arm and shoulder throbbed with a terrible ferocity. After a quiet grunt, he clenched his muscles pushed on as he climbed further up.

When he was almost to the top, he could hear shuffling above his head. It was a scratching sound that moved about in an odd fashion. Frits finally made it to the trapdoor that led to the tower floor. The scratching continued as Frits drew his sword as quietly as he could. He took in a breath as his heart quickened and anxiety bubbled up in him.

With a thrust upwards, he crashed through the trapdoor, ready to meet his enemy. He wheeled around in a frantic motion, but saw nothing. He heard the scratching at his feet and looked down to find a large rat. Frits gave a smile.

"Morning, sir," he said with a slight bow. "Your home is now free of those pesky intruders."

Meanwhile, Eva and Jon sat anxiously by the river. Jon tossed rocks in as the water rushed passed them.

"Do you think he found anyone?" Jon asked.

"I sure hope not. We cannot afford any more delays and those northfolk are nasty in a fight. Frits is not exactly battle tested either," Eva replied, trying to keep calm and not dwell on any potential horrors her friend was experiencing.

"I should have gone too," Jon said, his voice laden with concern.

"It is quicker and more quiet this way. He will be along in no time, I am sure of it," Eva reassured her companion.

They heard a splash and looked over to the bridge. It was Frits shuffling his hands along the stone ledge. To their shock, he was bleeding from his face. They helped him up out of the water.

"What, by Areandel, happened to you?" Eva asked nervously.

"It is not as bad as it looks, just a scrape on my head. The building had two scouts, but they are taken care of," Frits said with a wince. "The way should be clear from the watchtower."

***

The three went back to their horses. Taunten gave a snort and licked Frits' wound and he gave his horse a pat. His companions had tried to get the story of the building and tower, but he was unable to bring himself to tell. The thought of it only made him shudder. After they had mounted their steeds, they moved back onto the Northwood.

The horses clopped along the bridge as the sun shone high. The three riders were again in high spirits and glad to be on their main path home. As the looming shadow passed, Frits was happy to have the watchtower behind him.

"I think we may be in the clear," Jon said hopefully as they picked up their pace.

It was not long after that, when a sound burst up behind them. To their dismay, it was the deep booming of drums. The three looked back to see an empty road, but it clamored with noise.

"Do you hear that?" Frits asked as his head frantically scanned the forest. He half hoped to be making the sounds up in his mind although the booms shook down to his soul.

"Yes," Eva and Jon both said in unison. There was confusion in their voices as they both scanned the land behind them.

Suddenly, in the distance, they could see a number of shapes moving down the Northwood. As the figures came into view, they realized it was the northfolk company that the woodsmen warned them about.

"Go!" Frits shouted frantically and they turned south.

The three were almost to the other side of the bridge when a small group of northfolk gathered from the trees, blocking their path.

"Draw swords," Eva shouted and they each drew their weapons.

Frits did his best to take his out and hold the piece of steel. His shoulder and arm were tight, but it he held it out as wide as he could.

The northfolk formed and uneasy line of two rows. Frits felt the weight of his armor and clothes that where still wet as he tried to steady his breath. The young man and his companions began to speed to a trot as they lowered their heads and prepared to smite their foes. A few more strides and it would be on their enemy.

The northfolk had no heavy armor or arms, so the three riders crashed through them with ease. As they passed, arrows flew past their heads. A few bounced off the back of their chest plates.

"Go, go!" Frits yelled to Taunten, urging him forward as the drums continued to roll in the distance.

As their horses ran on, Eva's steed gave out a terrible whinny. She looked back to find he was struck by and arrow. "Easy boy," she said as she patted him to keep his neck. "You are going to be okay."

They sped along down the path until they were far out of sight of the bridge and northfolk soldiers. Their adversaries had no cavalry and there were no weerwolven from what they saw, so they were able to lose them quickly.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Stop," Eva shouted to her companions after she looked back and saw they had been clear for some time.

They reared their horses and turned to Eva to see arrow in her horse. It bucked and danced around in agony as she jumped from him.

"We have to get this arrow out," she said.

Jon went to grab the horses reigns to tie them to a tree as Frits went alongside Eva to help her remove the arrow.

"Is this safe?" Frits asked as he struggled to get a hold of the animal. "Would it not be better to keep this in until we arrive at home? The stable-master should handle this."

Upon further inspection, Frits saw that the horse had the same flesh that was burned blue, just as his arm looked. The two looked and one another.

"Yes, it has to come out," she replied.

As they struggled to get the horse to settle down, Frits jumped on his back. He grabbed the arrow with both hands and gave it a pull. This, along with the buck from the horse, threw Frits to the ground, but not before he got the arrow. He fell to the ground in a heap as the horse continued to whinny.

"Let him go," Eva said and they let him run and jump around in the road, still in pain. To their shock, the horse was not bleeding. "It must be the burns, like Frits' arm."

They quickly ran over to Frits, who was laying in the road. Eva and Jon helped him up and he hobbled to the side of the road to sit against a tree and catch his breath. Frits examined the arrow in his hands which was now broken in two. The tip and shaft near it burned with a cold blue. It was odd and seemed to radiate some strange magic that Frits could feel. It was like a strange vibrating energy radiating into his hands.

"Luckily it was not deep," he said as he continued to stare at it. "Strange thing, isn't it?"

"Quite strange," Eva agreed as she stared at it.

She studied Frits who was clearly in pain. His face contorted as he tried to fight through the hurts, but it was evident they were becoming too great For the time being. "Let us rest for a moment. I think you and the horse could use a quick break."

***

Eva was right, each of them needed the short rest. Frits did not eat, instead he sat back on the tree with his eyes closed. He sat there in silence, trying to savor every moment he could in the peaceful atmosphere. In no time, he would have to return to his hellish reality of being hunted by strange soldiers and people that could turn into wolves. For just this moment, he could be at peace.

"I think that is the last of your mother's heinbrood," Jon said, wiping his face.

"It's quite alright," Frits said with a smile. "This time tomorrow we will be home and we can all have our fill."

As they sat in silence, the three scanned the road. No drums or scurrying of feet came from north on the road.

"Do you think they have given up?" Jon asked as he peered north.

"I am guessing so," Eva said. "They definitely would have caught us by now. It was not wise to stop again so soon, but we did needed it. Hopefully we will be all the faster for it."

She helped Frits to his feet. As he stood, a whole new set of pain plagued him. It shot down his leg as he wobbled to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Eva asked, already knowing the answer. His stature made her wince.

"I will be fine," he replied as he stretched. "Nothing some rest at home won't cure. I wonder if Captain Damon will grant us a week of leave after this whole thing is over."

“Maybe we will even get a promotion?" Eva said hopefully.

"Or at least raise in pay," Jon added.

They all chuckled as they mounted their horses. Eva's steed was still in pain, but it was willing to bear her, especially after receiving some of the medical sap on his wound.

Silence again fell on them as they thought of all they had been through in the past day. A gentle breeze was a welcomed companion on the road, filling their lungs with much needed fresh air. The sun was starting to dip low in the sky as another day was coming to a close.

"Things are going to change when we get home," Eva said after a time.

"How so?" Jon asked as he gave her a puzzled look.

"Think about it," she replied. "When was the last time an attack like this happened?"

"There were major northfolk raids early in the reign of King Edward and Queen Melanie," Jon pointed out. "Not much changed after those happened."

"Yes, those were terrible and many perished, but the northfolk never coordinated a major offensive against a prominent settlement of Hailgalad. It was always small raids on villages. Nothing on this scale," Eva replied.

"We do not even know what this scale is," Jon said and trailed off In thought. "I wonder if the people of Frostwatch are okay."

"I am convinced that was just a stepping stone for a greater invasion of our kingdom," Eva said. "If it was not, why run wild through these woods? There are the woodsmen settlements, but they are hardly worth raiding. The true wealth lies in our major towns and cities."

"Time will tell. Do you think they could credibly attack the capital?" Jon asked as a bit of fear touched his voice.

"It is possible. Did you see those stones they hurled? They had some enchantment that I bet would give even the walls of Hailgrad a proper test," she replied as she too trailed off, deep in her thoughts.

"The last time would have to be Ontellion, the first warden of the North, and his defense of the Frostwatch against the northfolk invasion. That would have been under Eardred, the first king of Hailgalad," Frits added, getting back to the original topic.

Eva nodded, "Exactly. That led to a years long war against the northfolk. We took almost all their land south of the foothills of the White Mountains after that ordeal was over. Many lives were lost and it caused an even deeper rift between us and them. I wonder what this will mean from us now. We might have a full war ahead of our kingdom."

"Not to mention the border war," Frits added. "If the Vaelorans hear about this, they are sure to try and capitalize on it."

"By Areandel," Jon said in realization. "I had no idea the ripple effect of this attack."

They rode in silence for a while when Eva broke it to say, "We cannot worry about these things. We must keep to our mission and stay focused on that. These large movements of the kingdom are out of our hands anyway."

"I know one thing is for sure. You two have grown very dear to me in this time," Frits said. "Whatever the future holds, we will be together to face it."

"Agreed," Jon and Eva said in unison as they rode.

They all agreed to put the postulating thoughts aside and to focus on making it to the capital. The battered trio rode on as briskly as they could as the sun continued to fall in the West. The biting chill of autumn greeted them with shivering blasts of cold wind from the North. It rustled the trees and gave an ominous feel to the woods.

As they went on, each of the riders were in their own silence. The cold, growing dark festered in their minds with a slow, creeping consistency. Frits found himself looking deep into the forest. The endless trees and brush swayed softly in the wind. As he gazed outward, he thought he spotted something moving quickly from tree to tree. He blinked and it was gone, so he shook it off and focused on the road.

"Where should we rest tonight?” Jon asked with a yawn. "I wish we could move on, but we are clearly too far from the capital to get there without another rest for the horses."

"And ourselves," Frits added and he stretched his shoulder.

"I think we are close to the messenger cabin," Eva said. "We cannot stay for a real rest, but it might be the safest place. We can get some fresh water and give our horses a short break until the last spring."

"One last push to Hailgrad," Frits added with a hopeful tone.

They all agreed to the plan and so they made their way to the cabin. It was not long before Eva spotted the path to it and they followed her along the babbling stream. It veered to the right of the Northwood and, in the growing dark, one would miss it if they did not know it was there. The path led to the modest structure where they stayed only a few nights before.

"It feels like a lifetime since we were first here," Jon said with a sigh of relief.

Frits gave a smile as the sun continued to fall, giving an orange-red haze to the sky. He dismounted his horse and stretched his muscles with a yawn. That is when he heard the growl of some strange creature. Before he could react, a weerwolven sprang out of the bushes. It pushed past Frits, throwing him to the ground.

Without hesitation, Jon snapped his horses reigns and charged the beast. With a leap, it tackled Jon and tore him from his steed. Jon yelled and punched the attacker with his fists to no avail. It growled with an angry snarl and bit harder.

Eva drew her sword and jumped from her steed, squaring off with the creature. It was still busy slashing and tearing at Jon when she stepped forward and jabbed the blade deep in it's hide. The beast yelped in pain and swiped at Eva, throwing her off of her feet.

Before it could advance, Jon thrusted up his sword and stabbed it in its belly. Frits had also drawn his sword and barreled into the back of the weerwolven. It let out another terrible howl and stepped hard on Jon, who let out a scream.

While the beast was distracted, Eva charged it with her shield. She rammed it, which shattered the bright blue gem on its chest. In an instant, black smoke enveloped the creature and it reverted back into a northfolk woman who was clad in the same black cloak as the other weerwolven. Frits and Eva aimed to strike again, but it was not needed. The woman chocked and wheezed as she felt her body that still had Jon's sword in it. Without a word, the northfolk captain fell in a heap on the bank of the Frostfall. Just as quickly as it started, the confrontation was over.

Frits and Eva looked at each other, happy to be rid of their attacker. Their relief could not last, however, as they looked down at their companion.

Jon was badly hurt in a number of places. He bled from his arms and chest as he grasped at the air toward his friends. Without a word, Eva took a blanket and wrapped him tightly in it as Frits grabbed his head and gently cradled it.

"Is, is, is it bad?" Jon forced out. His breaths were jagged and shallow.

The two looked at one other with defeat on their faces. Maybe if they had the most adept healer in the kingdom by their side; maybe if they had more supplies; maybe if they had the grace of Areandel, they could have a small chance to save his life. They, however, had none of that. Only their broken hearts and a few blankets to keep their friend warm as the light of day slowly faded away.

"You are going to be okay," Eva said with a half smile as she grabbed Jon's hands. "You took out a weerwolven after all. I would be willing to bet you were the first of your village to do that. You might even the first in the whole capital."

She looked at Frits as if she was looking for some answer. At least some help to console their friend.

Frits sat there in shock. They had been through so many perils that last day, but they had endured. Somehow, he thought they would always make it together, no matter the obstacle. Surely their story would not end on the side of some road. They were far too important for that.

They had lives that needed to be lived back home. Someone to fall in love with, family to spend their days alongside, adventures to be had in the great unknown expanses of the kingdom, valor to win on the fields of battle. It turned out that was all a lie. They were not important at all. Only pawns meant to be sacrificed by the true heroes and leaders of the world. For the first time in his life, Frits felt completely and utterly helpless as Jon laid there.

"You fought bravely. You saved us all from that terrible beast," was all Frits was able to muster for his friend.

His voice drifted off as he stared at the lifeless body of the northfolk captain. Anger swelled in his veins. An anger that he could not tame. An anger at the terrible hand Jon had drawn. All because of that monster and her people. All for senseless violence. Eva shook her head at him and returned back to Jon's gaze.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, frantically trying to keep Jon talking.

"C-cold," he replied and she drew another blanket on him. He grabbed it and pulled it close under his chin.

They sat there in silence for a while. Neither Eva or Frits knew what to do.

"Are you going to leave me?" Jon asked as he started to cry.

"No, no we will not leave you," tears streamed down Eva's face as she stroked Jon's cheek. "We are going to be right here with you. You just need to rest now, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Tears fell uncontrollably from Frits' eyes as he held his friends head. They were completely alone in the dying light of the day. So close to their goal, but at the same time they were so far.

Suddenly, drums began to beat in the distance again. The methodical thud called the riders to continue once more. No rest, but to push on against all want to, against all hope. On to the road to be hunted once more.

Frits looked at Eva. He could see deep fear in her eyes. A deep fear coupled with inconsolable grief. They both knew they had to leave their friend if they were going to make it. As if to read her mind, Frits shook his head and pulled Jon in close. Jon gasped for air as he shifted.

"Jon," Eva pulled her hair behind her ear and tried to speak calmly as she looked down at her friend's deep, brown eyes and said. "I am sorry. They are coming."

Jon swallowed hard as he stared. They could tell he was slipping away and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

"I understand." He tried to draw himself up proudly. "It was an honor to ride with you."

"And with you," she replied as she kissed his forehead and more tears streamed from her face.

She rose and looked to Frits who remained unmoving. "Frits, we have to go."

Frits only shook his head in reply. "I will not leave him. He deserves better than this. We all do."

"You will die with him if you stay. Is that how you want this to end?" she said with a stomp of her foot. "Come on, let us leave this place. The capital needs our warning. Your family needs you to come home."

"What is the point? We are expendable. They will get their news sooner or later. Our mission does not matter," Frits said.

The drums boomed ever closer through the woods.

"You have no idea how selfish you are to lay down your life in this meaningless way. Jon had no choice, but you do," Eva shook her head.

Frits gave no reply. He knew in his heart he was making a grave mistake, but he could not bring himself to move. He only stared down at his friend who was slowly slipping away from this world.

Eva cut in once more, "Fine, stay here and die. I will finish the mission."

Eva got on her horse and directed it towards the trail. Immediately after, northfolk poured into the area. Without thinking, Frits sprang to his feet, sword in hand. They focused on him and barely noticed Eva a ways away on her horse.

She started towards him, but Frits waved her off. "Finish the mission," he said as he swung his sword at the attackers.

She hesitated for a moment, but he shouted again, "Go!"

Before the northfolk could react to her, Eva was off, down the road in a flash. Frits' horse was no where to be seen as he stared down his attackers. He was able to dispatch of one of them with a violent charge, but he was quickly knocked to his knees.

Pain surged in his arm as he caught himself. The group laughed and jeered.

"This one is weak. Soon he will be just like his friend here," a northfolk brute bellowed as he sent a powerful kick to Frits' stomach.

All the wind was knocked out of him and he went prone into the dirt. Tears of sadness and anger that he had never felt before welled in his eyes as he tried to steady himself. Torchlight danced in the darkness as they circled Frits again.

"What about the rider?” One of them asked.

"Let her be grabbed by someone else. We have done our part and caught two of them. That one is probably off to hide in the woods anyways," a voice answered as they all laughed again.

Without hesitation, Frits leapt up and felt a renewed energy in him. An energy fueled by hatred for these people and what they had done. He charged the closest northfolk and plunged his blade deep into their chest. His rage was blinding white and all he knew in that moment was revenge. Revenge for the people of Frostwatch, revenge for the woodsmen, and revenge for Jon.

Frits went to tackle another when he felt a searing pain. He looked down to see that he was stabbed through his side where his light chest plate came together. It was not a large area, but it was big enough to let the blade through.

He tried to take a deep breath and stay upright, but the Hailgaladrian soldier became terribly dizzy and staggered. Frits widened his stance and swung his fists in a blind rage a few more times at his enemies. The northfolk laughed at the sight as he fell to his knees and in an unconscious heap.

***

Frits woke in the dead of night. His mind was in a panic and his breaths were violently coming in and out as he tried to calm himself. It was not long before he remembered the northfolk soldiers and everything fading to black. The young man had no clue what time it was and he could barely move.

After he got his breaths under control, he struggled to get his chest plate off. Sharp pain radiated from his side as he tore the armor from his body. As he threw it to the side, he laid there for a moment, out of breath. Steam came off of him as he shivered from the evening chill. From in the cabin, he could smell the inviting fragrance of a fire. There were some harsh voices laughing and making merry as he laid on the dusty ground.

After a time, he remembered Jon. He looked over to his body to see it motionless. Frits struggled to crawl back over to his friend. After a good deal of pain, he finally made it. He took one of the blankets, bunched it and placed hard against the wound on his side. It was painful, but it was the best he could do to keep it from bleeding anymore.

"Frits," a soft whisper called out. "Frits."

"I am here," Frits grunted through the pain. He felt Jon's hand searching on the ground. Frits grabbed a hold of it and held it tightly. "I am here."

"Frits I am scared. I don't want to die," Jon cried softly.

"There is nothing to fear," Frits said in as a reassuring ton as he could. "I am here with you. Your brother is here with you until whatever end comes for us."

Crickets chipped and the sound of the river rushing could be heard nearby.

Jon cut through serene sounds, "Can you sing something? Just to help me fall asleep?"

Frits barely had the strength, but he could not refuse. He thought briefly of their enemies close at hand, but all hope of leaving this place alive had left him. All there was now was to bring come cheer to his dear friend's heart. After fighting to clear his mind, he thought of a song as he began to sing softly.

Meadows draped in seas of grass,

Bring me to my lovely lass.

For the day is growing dim,

And I wish to hear her hymn.

She is so fair she is my light,

I will protect her with all my might.

Deliver me to right to her door,

So I may love her forever more.

Rocky roads paved by the crown,

Bring me to my lady's town.

For the day is growing dim,

And I wish to hear her hymn.

Grand tall gates that gleam so bright,

Holding within my one delight.

Her fair face within them dwells,

Every step nearer my heart swells.

There was much more to the song, but Frits could not bear another word as the pain consumed him. He squeezed Jon's hand to work through the sharp jabs. Slowly, he felt Jon's hand slip from his. He knew his friend had passed on.

"Sleep well Jon. You deserve all the peace Areandel can offer,”

A tear fell from Frits' eye as he thought of Eva. “Please forgive me. May Areandel's light guide you.”

Then, Frits, the royal messenger of the king and queen drifted off as he thought of his family and of Sasha.

I am sorry I could not come home safe, he thought to himself as he took one last inhale before falling asleep.