As Amukelo's eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was Pao's face, etched with concern under the dim light of their campfire. "Amukelo, are you okay? Do you feel weak?" Her voice was gentle, yet tinged with worry.
Amukelo took a moment to assess himself, flexing his fingers and then meeting her gaze with a nod. "I'm fine. Thanks," he assured her, his voice a bit hoarse from exhaustion. His eyes then darted around, a reflexive search for something vital. Sensing his unease, Pao held out his sword with both hands, offering it back to him. "Are you looking for this?"
Relief washed over Amukelo's features as he took the sword, feeling its familiar weight in his hands. "Yes... Thank you," he replied, his gratitude evident.
The noise of his interaction alerted the others, and soon Bral approached with a smile that didn't quite mask his admiration. "You're truly amazing, Amukelo. If not for you, it might have been over for us again. But there's something I have to ask you." Amukelo nodded, indicating for him to continue. "How did you get that sword? It looks like one from elven legends."
The question hung in the air for a brief moment as Amukelo considered how much to share. Finally, he replied, "I got it from my master. He was an elf." The revelation elicited a mix of shock and curiosity from the group, their expressions a blend of disbelief and awe.
Amukelo then shifted the topic, perhaps a bit uncomfortable with the attention on his past. "How long have I been asleep?" he inquired, his voice steady.
"Not for long, probably less than two hours. It's still the same day," Bral answered. "We were intending to go to sleep soon."
Amukelo nodded, his mind churning. The frustration of having lost consciousness was palpable; he knew that in his solitary travels, such vulnerability could have been fatal. Memories of the night he was attacked by werewolves flashed through his mind, fueling his frustration with a sharp sting of vulnerability.
As he wrestled with these thoughts, Bao chimed in from where she was tending to a pot over the fire. "Dinner is ready," she announced cheerfully, bringing a momentary distraction from the heavier thoughts.
The group gathered around the fire, sitting on logs arranged in a makeshift circle. The soup was simple but hearty, steam rising into the cool night air. Each member of the group, now slightly more relaxed, passed around wooden bowls filled with the warm broth. As they ate, the comforting routine of sharing a meal in the wilderness brought a semblance of normalcy to the end of an intense day.
Amukelo, while grateful for the company and the food, couldn't fully shake his unease. As he sipped the soup, his thoughts intermittently returned to the dangers of the road and the responsibility he felt, not just to his own safety, but to the promises he'd made to himself and to the memory of his mother. The warmth of the fire and the soup did little to soothe the simmering frustration of his recent vulnerability, but for now, it was enough to let him rest and prepare for whatever lay ahead.
Under the pale moonlight, Amukelo lay restless amidst the sleeping forms of his newfound companions. The earlier battle with the Landwyrm replayed in his mind, a relentless reminder of his vulnerabilities. The unease of feeling too weak, a feeling he couldn't shake off, gnawed at him. After several futile attempts to sleep, he silently conceded to his restlessness.
Carefully, Amukelo rose, ensuring his movements were gentle enough not to disturb the others. He grabbed his sword and stealthily exited the camp, seeking solitude to manage his turmoil. A short distance away, he found a large tree that looked sturdy enough to withstand a good session of practice. Positioning himself before it, Amukelo began his training, channeling his frustrations into each swing of his blade.
Hours passed, the repetitive thud of the sword against bark becoming a meditative rhythm for Amukelo. Yet, physical exhaustion eluded him, his mind instead spiraling back to memories of his mother and the promise he made to her. He imagined her disappointment if she could see him now, struggling, vulnerable, saved by chance rather than skill, or what he thought of himself. He knew his mother would be proud of him, just for trying this hard, but this was something he couldn't accept himself. His strikes grew more vigorous, driven by a mix of determination and desperation, each cut into the tree a silent pledge to become stronger.
Just as he was about to unleash another flurry of slashes, Amukelo paused, realizing that the tree was perilously close to being felled. Concerned that it might crash loudly and wake the others or attract unwanted attention from predators, he stopped. It was then he heard the rustle of leaves behind him.
Turning sharply, sword ready, Amukelo expected a threat but instead saw Pao approaching, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "What are you doing here, this late?" he asked, his voice low.
"I woke up and heard noises. I came to check," Pao replied, her gaze flicking to the nearly severed tree. "What are you doing?"
"Sorry, I must have woken you," Amukelo responded, sheathing his sword as he spoke. He was about to explain further when another rustle, this time accompanied by the sound of rushing footsteps, cut him off.
"Watch out!" he shouted as a hog charged out of the underbrush towards Pao. Instinctively, Amukelo pushed her aside, positioning himself between her and the charging animal. With practiced precision, he blocked the hog's attack with his sword and delivered a swift, calculated slash to its neck. The creature collapsed, its momentum halted by Amukelo's decisive blow.
Pao, still trying to get up from the push, stammered as her cheeks became red, "Tha... Thank you." Amukelo extended his hand, helping her to her feet with a reassuring nod.
"Well, at least we have something for breakfast now," he joked lightly, trying to ease the tension as the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees.
Together, they made their way back to the camp, the early morning quiet settling around them. As they walked, the silence between them was comfortable, each lost in their own thoughts about the night's events and the future ahead.