I 'm lookin for some one to help better writ my fic since eng is not my first language
Here some midnight sketch and the starat of my fic
The captain leaned heavily against the tree, biting down on his lip as he pressed a strip of cloth against the wound in his leg.
“That was one hell of a mess,” he muttered, his voice worn with exhaustion.
“No kidding,” the veteran replied dryly. His battered body was covered in bruises as he helped the old man secure the splint around his broken arm.
“It changed on us. We weren’t prepared for it,” he said through a grimace, hissing as pain shot through him.
His gaze drifted toward the unconscious sailor nearby. A fresh wound marked his head, and he lay motionless atop the Skyloft Knight’s scarf while the knight tended to him.
“How is he?” the old man asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice.
“I gave him a healing potion. He should wake up soon,” the Skyloft Knight assured him, carefully drawing the scarf over the younger boy.
“We look like Ganon chewed us up and spat us back out,” the champion remarked from where he sat, his shoulder freshly bandaged by the blacksmith.
The farmer let out a faint sound from where he leaned against Epona. It might have been a laugh if exhaustion hadn’t drained him of the strength to manage one.
Nearby, the blacksmith sat gathering firewood, his hands moving absently as he stared into the flames, lost in thought.
The traveller noticed his silence and limped over, lowering himself beside him with a tired sigh.
“I can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears,” he teased.
The blacksmith didn’t look away from the fire.
The traveller’s expression tightened. The bitter truth was finally settling in.
“I know. And that isn’t even the worst of it,” he said quietly. “He was right there in front of us. If I’d been just a little faster, I could’ve taken that bastard’s head off.”
The veteran muttered the last words as he dragged a hand through his dust-covered hair.
The captain tightened his bandage one final time—harder than necessary—and bit down on the inside of his cheek.
“You wouldn’t have had the chance. Not with that blood-black dragon circling overhead, threatening to roast us alive.”
“Enough. Leave it for now,” the old man interrupted, his tone firm enough to silence any further argument.
His eyes swept over the exhausted young men.
“We’ll talk about it when we’re not busy bleeding to death.”
He placed a hand on the veteran’s back, a quiet gesture meant to keep the boy from sinking deeper into self-blame.
“Get some rest tonight. We’ll figure out our next move in the morning.”
None of them had the energy to.
They simply remained where they were, surrounded by the crackling fire and the quiet sounds of the wounded, each man left alone with his thoughts.
He had sealed the time portal before they could catch him, leaving them stranded in an unknown era with no idea where their enemy had gone—or what he intended to do next.
andulkaphoto
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2087
