Crow Song Part 1

1.

A scream woke him. He stood up, looked around, and wiped the blood running down his arm. He didn't know where he was, or rather, he didn't want to know.

But memories came rushing back and gave him no comfort—"Abras," he thought. He looked around again; bodies were everywhere.

He stared at a familiar face. Thin stared upwards with unseeing eyes,

the arrow lodged in his heart. Only then did Wron notice he still held his sword. He dropped it, removed his leather armor, and removed his heavy helmet. In the distance, somewhere near the center of the city, something was burning. Wron looked at the gate where he stood and slowly walked through it,

trying to keep his balance and avoid the bodies of fallen warriors. He emerged onto the plain beyond the city walls. Here, too, the field was strewn with corpses. He stared half-consciously

at the three trebuchets lined up in a straight line, one ablaze, the other still poised to fire. Somewhere in the distance, the commanders' tents were visible. He noticed movement under the third trebuchet. He staggered about ten meters to get a better look at what was moving. His unit commander was trying to stand up, glaring at him.

"Maybe you could help me up, dog," he almost whispered. Wron just continued to stare at... Hter.

Another memory—that idiot had sent them to certain death. Wron abandoned him to his fate, and he moved on. With each step, he grew more awake. More memories flooded his mind. He reached the command tents, passed them, and emerged onto the road leading to his hometown. He didn't turn around, just walked forward with a shaky, yet more confident step than before...

2.

It was getting dark now, and Wron was very tired... too tired. After the hard fight, his wound, and a whole day of marching, he simply collapsed on the road.

3.

He woke up the next morning, remembering everything, even too much.

"And what was that for?" he muttered. He

hadn't slept through the night in days. It wasn't an ideal place to sleep, but it was still better than no sleep at all. He regained his strength. He moved forward, slowly at first, then faster and faster. For a long time, he encountered no one, only the forest and the road. Finally, he reached a monastery. The monastery was surrounded by a stone wall, above which rose only a single building, probably a church. On the tower fluttered a flag with an eye from which multicolored rays radiated. He immediately recognized this symbol: the monastery of the One.

He went to the door, knocked, there was silence, he knocked again and again nothing.

"Please," he said quietly, "open up.

" "Who are you? What do you want?" someone answered from behind the door.

"I just want food and water," he said in a firmer and even louder voice.

He heard a commotion. After a moment, the door opened slightly. A young monk peeked out, his face barely showing the first hint of stubble. He handed Crow bread wrapped in a handkerchief and a cup of water.

"Thank you..." the door slammed in his face. " I'm sorry."

He turned, walked to a nearby tree, sat under it, and broke off a large piece of bread, ate it, and washed it down with water from a cup. When he was full, he went to the door again.

"Thank you!" he called. "I'm giving you back the cup!" He left the container by the door.

He stepped out onto the road, his hand no longer aching.