Chapter One: Returning Heroes

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No-one ever tells you about how much horses shit, and the one walking in front of Angus Rutland with a high ranking officer perched on its back appeared to be going for some kind of record. There were mountains of the stuff landing in its wake. What in the gods had that animal been eating? By pure luck, Angus had managed to avoid most of it, but a couple of bits had made a beeline for his boots. 'At least it's only on my boots,' he thought, remembering another poor soul who had taken a turd to the head, the thought making him laugh as he walked. Another thing they don't mention when you go to war is how much walking is involved. Angus felt like he'd covered every inch of Venari since enlisting.

Angus had jumped at the chance to join the army when the call had gone out. At seventeen, he thought it was time to prove his worth, and what better way was there than fighting for the Queen? He just hadn't thought about what joining the army would entail. Money was sparse in his family, so his ill-fitting armour and outdated gear were borrowed from or donated by neighbours. Even so, after two months of wearing and carrying them, they now felt like they belonged to him. They certainly smelled like him.

There had been some fighting though and Angus had put what little experience he'd had to the test. They'd laid siege to a settlement called Moonwich for reasons he still didn't understand. Then again, he supposed it wasn't his job to understand; his job was to walk, wait, and fight. And then do some more walking. And waiting. And walking.

After his army had waited outside Moonwich's walls for the opposing army to grow tired and hungry, Angus's battalion had struck. Under the cover of night, they'd infiltrated the settlement, killing those who got in their way and taking things as souvenirs. "The spoils of war!" one of his comrades had proclaimed. Looking back at those moments now, he smiled with pride. The Queen now had control of Moonwich, as was her birthright. He'd been to war, he'd done his part. Most of all, he'd proved himself. Now they were heading home to Red Fern, and he had enough gold in his coffers to buy his own house. His parents would be proud.

"Life's going to be completely different after this. I can't wait to get home," Ivonor Symkin said, catching up to Angus. Prior to going to war, neither had known the other, but now they were as thick as thieves. Ivonor was a little older than Angus, and had taken him under his wing as if he were his younger brother. He also teased him as if he was his little brother too. As an only child, Angus had enjoyed every moment.

"Me neither," Angus replied, tiredness creeping over him. In fact, he'd never felt so tired in his life. After all the walking, the fighting, and more walking, every muscle in his body wanted to take an extended nap. "Can't wait to get some proper sleep."

"Same here..." Ivonor said and then he hesitated. The next words came almost as a confession. "Sleep's not coming too easy at the moment."

"Yeah, the ground's not soft enough," Angus said with a laugh.

"No, it's not that. It's just... whenever I close my eyes, I see them. The faces of those I killed. I know we were doing the Queen's work, but those faces won't go away."

"You'll feel better when you get home," Angus said.

"I don't think so." Ivonor replied. "I'll just be having sleepless nights in more familiar surroundings. Does it not bother you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," he confessed, wondering what this said about him. "Should it bother me? I mean, we were sent to Moonwich to do a job and we did it. We should feel proud, not remorseful. It's not like it was cold-blooded murder. That would be something else."

"I suppose..."

"That's the spirit. And you'll feel much better when we get back. You'll see." Even as he spoke the words, Angus wasn't sure if they were true.

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