Chapter 28 - Flames of want
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an uneven orange glow over the craggy remains of Thalrune, Liam walked behind the girls as they made their way to the camp just beyond the rubble.
His boots crunched on the brittle ash, and each step stirred up gray particles that stuck to his robe. They were heavy from the day's work and wet with sweat.
The slight gash on his face throbbed, blood clotted at the margins, a sharp sting flying with every breath of cool evening air tugging his hood. His arms hurt from riding hard, yet a restless hum sounded beneath his skin, adrenaline still coiling tight from his first blood.
The camp was bustling with activity, with soldiers and survivors moving across the trampled grass, their fires illuminating the clearing like scattered stars. A grizzled man in damaged armor drove stakes into the ground to raise a canvas tent, while a lady beside stirred a pot over a blazing fire, steam curling up with the fragrance of thin stew. Kids raced past ragged, soot-streaked people, chasing a barking puppy, their yells blending with the clank of gear and the quiet murmurs of tired voices. Tents erected in uneven rows, some stiff, others sagging, with survivors lugging rescued scraps and a man with a bandaged leg walking past, murmuring thanks to no one.
Lysandra dropped her pack near a cluster of trees at the camp's edge, her hair plastered to her neck in damp, dark strands—sweat beading where it met her jaw, trickling down to soak her tunic's collar. Her blood-flecked sword clanked as she set it against a gnarled oak, glinting faintly in the fading light. "We're here—rest, then dawn," she said, voice hoarse from barking orders, kicking a stone aside to clear space.
Selene tossed her cloak onto the grass, stretching slow—her shirt pulling tight across her chest, riding up to bare a strip of tan skin above her trousers, taut with lean muscle. Her thick tail swaying free, brushing the earth with lazy flicks. "Rest, huh? Hero's bloodbath earned us that much," she drawled, smirking at Liam—crimson eyes warm, a tease laced with respect.
Erynn eased her staff against the oak, slumping beside it—her scorched arm wrapped in a torn rag, pink burns peeking through where it slipped, raw against her pale skin. Golden curls hung limp, framing her ash-smudged face, but her green eyes flickered with life. "He was incredible—saved that man, sword swinging!" she said, voice soft but bright, glancing at him with a tired smile.
Liam dropped his pack beside hers, sword thudding against it—its weight grounding him, steel still flecked with dried blood. "Had to, they came at me ," he said, grinning despite the ache. Level 5, Physical 7, Stamina 9—earned in grit and steel, not handouts. He rubbed his cheek—the crust flaked under his fingers, a badge of his stand.
Soldiers moved nearby—two hauling logs, another barking orders to set a perimeter—while survivors huddled closer to the fires, their silhouettes sharp against the glow. "Fire's yours, Liam," Lysandra said, tossing him a flint—her calloused fingers brushing his, rough and warm—then turned to gather sticks, her tunic clinging to her back, dark with sweat.
He smirked, crouching by a cleared patch as Selene dragged a log over, while Erynn stacked kindling, twigs snapping under her delicate grip, her rag slipping further to show tender burns. Liam struck the flint—sparks spat, catching dry moss 'til flames roared up, gold light spilling over their corner of the camp.
Night deepened, the camp settling—fires crackling, a soldier's low laugh cutting through the hum of voices, canvas flapping in the breeze. They sat by their blaze, Lysandra cross-legged, sharpening her blade with steady scrapes; Selene lounging, tail curling like a whip; Erynn hugging her knees, staring into the flames, her face soft in the glow. Liam leaned back, heat easing his cut's sting—but that buzz wouldn't fade, restless, alive.
"Too damn loud here," Selene muttered, stretching again—shirt riding higher, her tan belly taut—tail brushing his leg. "Can't think with all this racket." Her crimson eyes flicked to the bustling camp—soldiers, survivors, noise.
Erynn nodded, rubbing her arm—her rag slipping, burns stark. "Yeah—quiet would be nice. Just us." Her voice was soft, green eyes moving to Liam, then away, a shy spark beneath her exhaustion.
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Lysandra set her blade aside—clink soft on the grass—silver hair glinting as she stood. "Walk, then—away from this mess. Clear our heads." She suggested, but her glance lingered—silver eyes catching his, a quiet pull.
Liam rose, soldiers' fires fading behind as they slipped past the trees. The camp's hum dulled, replaced by rustling branches, a distant owl's hoot—until they hit a wooded hollow, secluded, the firelight a faint glow far off. Moonlight filtered through bare limbs, silvering the grass around them.
Selene smirked, leaning against a trunk—shirt taut, tail swaying. "Better now, Hero, first blood today. Feeling big?" Her voice dropped, teasing—crimson eyes daring him, heat creeping in.
Erynn stepped closer, her golden curls brushing his arm, her warmth soft. "You were so fast, dodging, striking!" Her hand grazed his sleeve—lingering, green eyes bright in the moon's sheen.
Lysandra stood near—silver hair loose, tunic clinging to her sweat-damp chest. "Fast—could've been cleaner, but it worked," she said, voice low—knee brushing his, a smirk tugging her lips.
The air shifted—hot, alive—lustforge stirring, a hum in Liam's chest waking slow, primal, as their closeness pressed in.