Les Petites - A Short Story Collection

Something Warm

Yet another village burned. Even from atop the hill, Regis could see the road next to the town had been crushed underfoot. The survivors were heading west, possibly to Balka. Tendrils of smoke still rose from the black, charred bones of the houses.

That meant the Vangen were getting closer to the mysterious group they were chasing. A small group intent on random destruction.

"We'll make camp here," Dux said wearily, rubbing at his chin. "We know we're closing in on them, at least."

While the other men gratefully started to dismount their horses, set down their gear and set fires, Culter continued to stare. His head tilted in an unsettling way.

"Have you spotted something?" Regis yawned.

Culter responded, as he always did, with silence.

Dux sighed. "Libro, go down with him. See what you find."

The younger man obeyed, and he attended Culter as they walked down the hill to the burnt shards of the town.

Regis looked at Dux, stretching out his riding-weary muscles. "Do you think there could possibly be any survivors down there?"

"I've seen more miraculous things."

That was all the wisdom that the captain seemed to have tonight. He stayed silent, rubbing his head until his tent was ready to enter, and then disappeared into it.

By the time Libro and the albino returned, the sky was already dark. Regis heard them coming from a half a mile away, thanks to their cargo. Their return captured the attention of every man in the camp. Even Dux poked his head out through at the noise.

Libro came over the ridge, walking as though he were carrying an armful of thin glass, ready to break the moment he stumbled or sneezed. The Archive he always had strapped to him was rotated, thudding against his back with each step.

And he held the baby away from him like it was poisonous, making Regis chuckle.

"She survived," he told them, wide-eyed and breathless. "A girl."

"Why did you bring it here?" Civis demanded, speaking loudly to be heard above her whimpers. "What are we supposed to-"

"I don't want someone else to find her and take her to an Orphanarium," Libro interjected, frowning. His mouth twisted to the side as he looked to the west, following the trail of abused and torn earth. "We're already pursuing the train of refugees. If we can catch up with them, perhaps we'll be able to return her to her rightful family."

"Well, lad, are you going to make her stop crying first?" Regis asked. The sound of the bairn's tiny wails was rattling his weary ears and skull.

"I don't..." Libro grimaced when a particularly shrill scream was thrown at his face. "Know how."

Culter took a silent, creeping step forward, but Nox reached out for the bundle first, plucking her from Libro. He settled her in his arms with ease, as though he'd held one before.

An eerie tune, like the sounds of spirits come to earth when harvesttime ended and the days began to grow darker. A mere two seconds of silence passed before the small one's face crumpled up again. Regis wagered she had probably been more confused than soothed by the damned strange noise.

"Ah..." The Osterlander smiled, even as he stumbled over the words in the language foreign to him. "I see song did not work."

"She's tired and afraid. We need to let her be alone in a quiet place," Civis declared after assessing the situation.

"You can't do that," Libro argued. "She can't be alone. There are wolves here."

Bickering ensued. Regis folded his arms over himself, watching over the other men, waiting for anyone to state the obvious truth. It wasn't as though the little thing was a fecking demon, yet the younger men looked at her and spoke about her like they'd never seen a babe in their lives.