[SHW: A Silken Bond] Dark Thoughts

[probot]

Galard woke up with a jolt of pain in his bandaged arm. He grunted, twisting and turning in vain hopes of finding a position that at least began to resemble comfort. With a resentful sigh he finally conceded defeat and threw away the bed covers. A pause for breath. One, two, and sideways swung his legs over the rim of the bed, one at a time until he finally managed to land on the floor in a half-crouch. Despite the sling keeping his limb mostly immobile, the shock of it was enough to send another surge of stabbing pain up his forearm. Gritting his teeth, the young soldier paused to wait it out, slowly forcing out an even breath. Somehow, he found even this excruciating experience more bearable than the indignity he was subjected to all of last tenday as the medics fussed over him, and his father had assigned not one but two adjutants to assist his every step. He couldn't move, couldn't eat, couldn't so much as think of walking to the chamber pot without someone stepping in to all but do it for him. It drove Galard mad. The pain, the humiliation, the loss... His head was swimming well after the fever broke, and behind his closed eyelids he saw the damnable forest, dark leaves concealing volleys of crossbow bolts. The ringing of shouts wouldn't quit his ears day or night, and the death rattles that inevitably followed them were infinitely worse. Yet worst of all was the inaction. On some deep, rational level he understood his father's caution, but that was poor comfort to his raging heart. He dreamed of leading the charge, of rounding up each and every one responsible for the attack that killed his people. The soldiers on the ground, the officers who masterminded it, the rulers in their dark citadel, the very deity they pledged themselves to... Another unexpected stab of pulsating pain in his arm broke Galard from his ruminations and he cursed loudly. The door to his room creaked open and he whipped around, ready to yell and throw something, anything. But he stayed his hand when his squinting eyes spotted the conspicuous horns silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. The one person who seemed to understand his pain. The only one, it felt, in the whole damned world. The door closed behind her with a soft click.