Author's Notes: Still don't own anything
The heat of the sun on his face woke Karl the next morning. Stirring stiffly he rose to his feet and looked around. The fires had mostly died out or were in the process of doing so. The dead still lay were they had fallen and the carrion birds were at work upon them. This, combined with the stench of decaying flesh, created a most grim scene.
To take his mind off of his surroundings he glanced down at his naked body. After yesterday he was not surprised to see that his wounds were already well on their way to healing. His ribs were still sore, but at the same time; they, as well as the bone in his left shoulder, were giving off a tingling feeling as they knitted themselves back together. His cuts and scrapes were already gone and the flesh on his left shoulder was pink and new. Most visible were the marks made on his wrists and arm by the silver and even these were beginning to fade, albeit more slowly than the others.
Before he did anything else Karl decided he needed food and clothes. He went back to his grandfather's house, where thankfully both the body had been removed and it appeared to have survived the fire. He went to his room and put on some clothing then went to the kitchen and helped himself to bread and sausage.
As he ate he mulled over his options. Obviously he could not stay here, but where was he to go? Since coming here he had never traveled as much as a mile from the village, he did not even know how far the next town or village was. He knew when merchants and peddlers came through they usually said they were going to Strousenburg but he had no idea how long it took to get there, and even if he could get there what then he was a monster now everyone knew that.
Then it a thought occurred to, causing him to stop in the midst of chewing. Yes everyone in the village knew that he was a monster, and they were all dead, as was the witch hunter and his party everyone, in fact, who knew his secret. He could go anywhere and nobody would know. The idea was both terrifying and exciting at the same time. He had always wanted to see the world and now he had no choice but to do so, everything he had ever known was gone. He now had to make his own way in the world. He felt exhilarated and strangely weightless at the same time.
But first things first, the dead had to be seen to; he could not just leave them to rot like carrion. He grabbed a shovel and got to work. It took him all that morning digging oversized graves and putting as many bodies as he could in each before starting the next one. It did not help that the graveyard was to small and he was no priest of Morr to consecrate earth to the Dream Lord. He could not bury all of the villagers, some he could only find parts of; some, like the children in the temple, were nothing but ash. Even so it was hard work and many times he almost gave up, but he pressed on. He told himself it was for the dead and it was in part, but that was not all there was to it. Though he was still excited at the prospect of travel and the wider world now that it was actually time to venture forth he had a feeling of uneasiness at the thought of all that unknown and a sudden urge to stay where things were at least familiar. So now that the time had come he found himself looking for reasons to delay setting off. Also his enthusiasm was dimmed, not only by the physical labor of burying the townspeople, but also by the grief that he felt as he looked on the people he buried. Some he only knew by sight but others had been his friends and all had been links to his now destroyed past.
Finally, about two hours after noon, the task was done. The villagers and the witch hunting party were all buried and Karl had mumbled some half-remembered prays to Sigmar and Morr. The orc dead he left to either rot or feed the carrion. Exhausted both physically and mentally he decided the best course of action would be to gather supplies together, spend a final night in the village, and the set out for Strousenburg the next morning. He gathered all the food in his grandfather's house and selected the food that he thought would be best for travel as well as some of his cloths and all the money he could find. He then went and searched the buildings that were still standing. He felt guilty but his need was great he offered up a prayer to Ranald hopefully making it up to the gods for his actions. He also looked for weapons, he had never actually used one but he was reasonably certain he would need one. The witch hunter and his men were all armed but he was unwilling to risk angering the gods more by robbing the dead. In the end his search yielded enough food to last him at least a week if he were careful. A real stroke of luck was the old pack Brome had saved from his soldier days. Into this Karl placed his cloths food, tinder box, blankets and the other items he had salvaged.
Of money he had rather less success, the villagers mainly bartered among each other and most coins came from travelers passing through. Most of the money had been found in the remains of the half-burned inn. All in all, he had eight silver shillings and seventy brass pennies. It was more money than he had ever seen in his life, but he had a feeling it would not last long when he was back amongst men. For weapons he armed himself with a dagger he found at Brome's house and a sturdy club he found at the inn. After some thought he reluctantly retrieved the manacles and placed them in the pack as well.
That night he sat on the floor of his room, manacles in his hand, and waited for the change to come. He waited a long time but the change never came. He did not understand it had come every night since that night that was still hazy in his mind, did this mean it came and went? Was it random, or did it follow a pattern he did not know, and that was troubling. On the one hand this was good as he would not have to hide and risk discovery every night. But on the other hand if it just came and went then he ran it could happen when he was with people and he would be found out. Worried about the future, but confident that it would not happen tonight, he finally allowed himself to sleep.
He arose shortly after sunrise. Too nervous to eat he grabbed the pack, slung it on his shoulders and headed out. About one mile out he turned and looked back at the one home he had ever known, the he turned and headed forward. He did not look back again.
Authors Notes: Well another chapter finished, thanks for the reviews and please keep them coming. I am not sure how some of this chapter went so please let me know if I brushed over his feelings too much. I did not want him either grieving for ever or appearing unfeeling let me know please how you thought I handled it. Most of you know this but for those who do not. Sigmar: main god of the Empire, Morr: god of death and dreams and Ranald: god of thieves. See you all next time and may Jesus bless you.