KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
He didn't need her to tell him that, and Korbin merely grunted in response. Even holding on to her was exacerbating the pain, and he thought he could feel something warm and sticky trickle down the back. There just wasn't a point in thinking about it, in speaking, in doing anything but press on. One step at a time.
No more arrows were shot after them. Still no dogs, or sounds of pursuit. Still, when Delphine tripped Korbin slowed down and put himself between the girl and the settlement behind them, and remained there until she got her feet under herself again. Then he sped up again, running doggedly towards the crevasse. "No idea. Doesn't matter. Keep going," he gritted out, his face pale and drawn but determined.
Only when they reached the crack where frozen tundra had split open to form a shallow ravine did Korbin slow. Out of breath, cursing quietly the idiocy that made him forego training for so much of Deepfrost, he staggered up against the earth wall and leaned against it. The back of his coat was dark with blood that slowly oozed out around the shaft of the arrow. The fletching was white, made of ningo feathers; it could be made by anyone. A Citadel hunter, a Whitebrim exile, some random traveler not wishing to be disturbed... It really could be anyone.
"Can you... get the arrow out?" he asked, once he was able to breathe properly again. Korbin shot Delphine a glance; he had no idea if she was fit for this kind of excitement. The running, the danger - it took a toll on the most well trained of people. And she did still look very soft in his eyes.
No more arrows were shot after them. Still no dogs, or sounds of pursuit. Still, when Delphine tripped Korbin slowed down and put himself between the girl and the settlement behind them, and remained there until she got her feet under herself again. Then he sped up again, running doggedly towards the crevasse. "No idea. Doesn't matter. Keep going," he gritted out, his face pale and drawn but determined.
Only when they reached the crack where frozen tundra had split open to form a shallow ravine did Korbin slow. Out of breath, cursing quietly the idiocy that made him forego training for so much of Deepfrost, he staggered up against the earth wall and leaned against it. The back of his coat was dark with blood that slowly oozed out around the shaft of the arrow. The fletching was white, made of ningo feathers; it could be made by anyone. A Citadel hunter, a Whitebrim exile, some random traveler not wishing to be disturbed... It really could be anyone.
"Can you... get the arrow out?" he asked, once he was able to breathe properly again. Korbin shot Delphine a glance; he had no idea if she was fit for this kind of excitement. The running, the danger - it took a toll on the most well trained of people. And she did still look very soft in his eyes.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
