After their decisive victory over Orinovo, Lys-Akkaria's army crosses the border to take back territory that used to be theirs. With the combined forces of a lightweaver and shadowforger, Orinovo doesn't stand a chance.
In spite of their newfound a...
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Fennrin wasn't certain what woke him up in the middle of the night exactly, but he didn't want to leave Ain and go investigate in the least. Despite sleeping on their rather uncomfortable bedrolls, Fennrin couldn't think of a more pleasant place than laying in the lightweaver's arms.
But then he heard a strange noise and a quiet thud. That was odd.
Despite his absolutely hatred of the idea, Fennrin untangled himself from Ainreth's arms, getting up and stretching, yawning a little as he stuck his head out of the tent and into the chilly night. He couldn't see anything strange, though. Aside from the fact that there was no one standing guard anywhere near their tent.
Despite Fennrin's presence now, someone was always guarding Ain because his powers didn't work during the night much. So where were they?
Frowning, Fennrin stepped outside, shivering a little at the change of temperature, slowly and quietly walking in one direction, looking around tents, but he couldn't see anyone anywhere. At all. That itself was strange as well. He wasn't usually up during this time, but surely someone should be around, watching out for their fellow soldiers.
But perhaps he was being paranoid. He hadn't actually seen anything that would suggest something was going on, and also he was only half awake. He yawned again, then, as if to confirm that fact as he turned around. He was probably worrying over nothing.
At least that was what he thought until he turned around, only to see a hooded figure, definitely not a Lys-Akkarian soldier, standing two tents away from Fennrin, some kind of small tube held to their mouth.
Fennrin only managed to yell Ainreth name before that same strange sound he'd heard before hit his ears, something pricking at his skin. He tried to turn into a shadow, but his head started spinning too much to focus on anything, his gaze lowering to his arm where some kind of dart was sticking out.
He almost fell to the ground as his vision darkened, stopped only by someone grabbing him from behind, a hand clamping over his mouth as Fennrin tried to cry out again. The person who shot him with the dart came running, grabbing Fennrin's ankles and them and their accomplice started carrying Fennrin away, running.
He wanted to fight back, kick them, anything, but he couldn't move his limbs an inch, and soon, he couldn't even keep his eyes open, whatever they'd drugged him with too strong to fight off. He tried to focus on what they were muttering to each other to stay awake, but he couldn't even tell if they were speaking Orinovan or Akkarian, their words jumbled.
And soon enough, he lost his battle to stay awake, with his last though being of Ain and how worried and upset he was going to be by this.
+++++++++++++++
When Fennrin came to, he groaned, his head throbbing. Had he and Ain drunk too much last night? If so, they needed to have a talk about this.
But wait. The ground was so much harder than it should be. And he was cold, Ainreth's arms not wrapped around him as usual. And his own arms were cramping, stuck at a strange angle, his mouth so very dry.
