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Where is she? Where is she?
Fear. Mind-bending panic consumes the mind and terror ensnares the senses. Fearful eyes search wildly about the clearing: fearful of what of what they might see.A body spins in fretful circles, searching, hoping.
Not dead, please valar not dead.
Weary feet gain new life as they hop over rocks, weapons, bodies. Eyes search for the slightest trail, for something, anything that might help. Ears block out all other voices, concentrating solely on the search.The body sprints quickly to where she was last seen. Voice calls out desperatly, beseeching her to be alive, to not have left him.
I cannot lose her, I would not be able to bear it.
The heart stops as the eyes pick out a glint among the gore, the mind screams in recognision. Trembling hands gently pick out the weapon, her weapon from beneath the carrion. The blade is covered in battle grime, a testament to his lady's bravery. The mind steps up the search, frantically scrutinizing every body, hoping against hope.
Where is she? Valar help me!
Arms wildly ward off men trying to pull him away, voices telling him it's too late, they've taken her. Angry commands issue from cracked lips, sending out scouting parties.
I will not leave her for dead.
Determination and desperation drive the exhausted body on. A spark of hope ignited when a trail is found. Faithful steed is mounted and spurred on following almost invisible tracks through the forest. The mind knows there is almost no hope, if they have her, they will rape her, torture her, then kill her. The head hangs as a silver tear slips out of closed lids.
I will find her, I will kill them.