Iaine heard a scream as she brought the warriors up the mountain. It was nether male nor female, but the sound of desperation and anger. "Hurry damn you!" she snarled at the men, brandishing swords and spear and ready for battle. They were nearly there. Why did it have to be so much harder to do this on the ground? They only had a limited amount of time before those wolves would rip the child to shreds.

Mozenrath is there. She reminded herself. He won't allow the child to be eaten. Would he…no, of course not. Maybe the old sorcerer would have. But Mozenrath was Druid now, he would not allow a life to be stolen like that. Right?

Right?

Her eyes suddenly remembered where they were. "Here! Quickly men!" she hollered and began to run. The snow had slowed down enough for them to move without being raped by the wind. "Mozenrath!" she screamed out. Nothing responded. "Mozenrath!" she called again, desperately as she broke through the tree line. "Moze…"

Iaine came to a full stop as the sight lay before her. Mozenrath was there, clutching the bleeding body of the child as though protecting it. His body was heaving as if he could not breath properly and his face was hidden by hair. Scorch marks lay in rings around the trees and the snow, which by now should have been covering them both, was melted away in a perfect circle around them. The smell of burning fur was thick and as she approached, Iaine could see the bodies of the pack still smoldering.

"Moze…" she whispered, putting out her hand. "Mozenrath…" she said and gently touched his shoulder.

Two things seemed to happen at once. Iaine jerked her hand back from the heat of his flesh, and Mozenrath looked up at her, his eyes gone entirely black.

She did not scream, but looked at him, unafraid. "Mozenrath, the child. The child in your arms. We have to get him back to the village for healing…"

Mozenrath tilted his head awkwardly, but suddenly seemed to come back to himself with a great shudder. "The…boy…" he murmured and looked down. "The boy! Iaine he's bleeding his life out!"

Iaine nodded as the men came through the clearing. "Mozenrath can you stand?" she urged but he shook his head. "Alright then. You two!" she called out orders to two burly men. "Quickly, come and get the boy down to Cigfa's!" Mozenrath willingly let them take the load and tried to make himself stand. His whole body felt weak and pained, aching through every muscle and bone.

And his right hand felt as though burning.

The image of your face appears.
I cannot wipe away your tears.