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“Allô! Tri! Réveillez-vous!” Tri stirred and opened one eye drowsily. It was still dark out. Who would wake him at an hour like this? After the days they’d had here? Every muscle in Tri’s body ached, and just moving his head felt like a tremendous effort. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. The dark, blurred form in front of him slowly became apparent. It was Sprint. Of course. It was a foggy morning. The hills were held in shrouds of mist and it was barely light. The faint glow on the Eastern horizon was the only hint of morning, but there was already frenetic activity in Soinnet. Under the cover of darkness, the soldiers had been preparing a strike for days now, and this seemed to be the day when it was all supposed to happen. Tri knew what the tense atmosphere meant by now and knew it well - the fear, the shaking hands, the hope, courage, and the sweat trickling from underneath the soldiers’ steel helmets. There was a battle about to begin. The cool breeze swept through the broken buildings of the village and Tri rolled onto his back where he lay in the shade. For a fleeting moment between sleep and wakefulness, he felt like he was back on the Iron Hill, enjoying a break from the day’s chores. It was almost as if he could see the colourful flowers nodding in the wind and feel the cool grass… And it was as if he heard the master’s footsteps on the gravel. He rolled over and lifted his head to respond to his master’s approach, but the boots on the gravel were a soldier’s, and this was Soinnet, not the Iron Hill. Tri grimaced as if in pain. |
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