All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter

Chapter Two

"Einar, come play with us!" The two children ran up to him, tugging on his robes and climbing into his lap. Einar laughed and set aside the sword he'd been polishing.
"Alright, I'll play, but not for long." Einar stood, the smaller of the two children clinging to his neck, the other hanging from his arm. He stumbled forward a few steps, exaggerating the effort it took, before collapsing with them in a giggling pile. "Please, Banam, Lila, let me up! You're getting so big, I can barely carry you anymore," he panted. The children looked at each other and then, in some unspoken agreement, jumped on his stomach with shrieks of joy.
"Einar, have you seen the children?" An older lady, her dark face lined with age and her graying braids piled high on her head, rounded the corner of the building.
"Yes mama, they're here with me, see?" Einar lifted them both slightly.
"Well they're supposed to be inside with me learning their history!" His mother, Makda, marched up to them, grasping both of the children's wrists. Einar chuckled to himself as he watched the protesting pair get dragged inside to read before picking up his sword and hunting bow.
"I'm off to hunt mama," he called. Makda glanced back and gave him a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning her attention once again to the unruly children trying to escape. Einar turned to leave but something, he wasn't sure what, made him turn back.
"I love you!" he called. There was no acknowledgment this time.

Eight days. That's how long it had been since Einar had returned from his hunting trip to find a smoldering wreckage where his village had been. Eight days since he'd heard the explosions and had run back as fast as he could. Eight days since he'd clawed through the charred remains of his home, desperately screaming for his mother, his sister, his brother, for anyone to answer. Five days since he'd found the bodies.
Einar wrapped the frayed blanket tighter around himself and shivered. He reached up to touch the fresh wound on his face. The memory it brought back was so terrible that he suddenly pitched to his side and retched.
While he'd been searching for survivors he'd come upon a particularly grotesque looking demon shredding the remains of a corpse. Sickened by the sight and blinded by rage, Einar had charged at the demon with nothing but his sword.
The demon had turned and, almost casually, backhanded him, lacerating the left side of his face from the bridge of his nose to the middle of his cheek. That one slap had sent Einar crashing through the wall which, weakened by flames, collapsed on top of him, pinning his legs and his sword arm. The demon had made a disgusting shrieking, laughing noise as it stalked slowly towards him. It had then put one clawed foot on the boards covering Einar's chest, pushing down slightly.
"One... to tell... the tale," it had rasped in his ear, before turning suddenly and loping off into the forest, wailing as it went.
After working himself free, Einar had continued looking for survivors, ignoring the blood oozing down his face, though the wound itself was agonizing. He stopped looking when he'd found the bodies.
A soft sound startled Einar out of the flashback. He jumped to his feet, casting aside his blanket and drawing his sword, all in one fluid movement. The doe that his sword was pointed at blinked slowly, no sign of concern on her face. She stared at him, intelligent brown eyes meeting his tortured green. Einar slowly lowered his sword, a strange feeling of peace washing over him, loosening the knot in his chest. He felt something wet on his face and wiped it away, expecting to see blood from his wound. Instead, he saw tears, the first he had shed since he'd returned.
The doe daintily picked its way through the ruins to get to him, butting her head softly against his leg before walking back the way she had come. Einar sheathed his sword and followed her, not wanting to lose the peaceful feeling she had brought with her. He looked up at the night sky as they walked, marveling at the beauty of the stars. His family all but forgotten, even as the ash from his burned village turned his brown braids white.

———sorry, I know this is short, but I hope you like it———