The silence that had fallen over the camp was heavier than a stormy sky. Foster's words still echoed in the minds of the refugees, tearing at their fear and pride like a sharp blade.
Then the tension was broken by the sound of footsteps.
An elf stepped forward, his blond hair tarnished by dust, his eyes tired but still filled with the characteristic gleam of a fighter.
Foster stopped and stared at him.
Yänn.
His childhood friend. His brother in arms.
Foster wouldn't have been surprised if he'd died in battle.
- So you're alive, brother? Foster said, holding back the urge to hug him.
- I'm coming with you,' declared Yänn in a firm voice, nodding with the same emotion as Foster.
His decision left no room for doubt.
Behind him, a few other elves exchanged hesitant glances. Then a second elf stepped forward, followed by a third. An elf with a closed face followed.
Little by little, the bravest made their decision.
