Eivor Enjoyer 💘

Step.

Step.

Step.

Don’t stop. Keep moving.

Blood drips from the arm that dangles uselessly at Eivor’s side, leaving a trail of gleaming crimson droplets behind her. It doesn’t matter. There are none left living to follow her. Her sword arm is unharmed, but she can feel her head beginning to swim.

Breathe, she reminds herself, don’t stop. Don’t fall.

She imagines your face, your hands, your voice in her ear, urging her on.

One leg drags slightly behind her, a long gash in her outer thigh slowing her movement. The man who had made the wound was dead, an axe driven into his forehead the moment after he’d done it.

Another step.

Another.

Another.

Don’t fall.

Don’t fail her.

The path begins to look more familiar- Ravensthorpe is close. You are close.

Gods, her bones ache. She could drop here, lie down in the moss and just let go. It would be easy. It would be peaceful.

She digs her nails into her palms, her bloodied knuckles splitting again painfully. She won’t fall. She won’t leave you alone, wondering what had happened to her.

Don’t. Stop.

Keep. Moving.

Get. Back. To. Her.

Step.

Step.

Step.

She passes the edge of the settlement, dragging herself to the longhouse like some curséd revenant.

She sees you, at last, running from the longhouse, and her knees hit the dirt. Your scream sounds like home.

When you reach her, she slumps into your arms, smearing gore down your dress. You shout frantically for help as she reaches up to touch your face, her fingers rough against your cheek, and sticky with blood.

She slips into unconsciousness, unable to hold on any longer.

But she’s home.