Summer, 1428

Shaken by what they had encountered, Oevcn’s force nevertheless continued its pursuit, shadowing the retreating enemy as the sea of grass turned to forests and rocky outcroppings.

The threat of ambush was constant; the Calaveras Legion constantly lashed back at their pursuers, company-sized units taking potshots or laying ambushes or laying traps, all aimed at bleeding and slowing Oevcn’s force. Occasionally the mutilated bodies of those killed in the skirmishes or of prisoners captured earlier were gruesomely displayed to taunt the cyno pursuers. Slowly Oevcn’s force accumulated losses: Coerew, Swetecn, Anwetc, Jensae. The dark cyno tried to recover and bury those who fell, but his strikeforce did not always have the time to do so or properly administer the last rites; Oevcn could only continue his pursuit and compensate their deaths with those of the enemy who were suffering equally if not more so.

After two long weeks, forests and rocky hill locks slowly gave way to soggy marshlands. One day Oevcn ascended a hill and saw before him a sea of mud, water and grass spread out as far as the eye can see, broken only by a few sickly looking trees and with the Southern Ranges barely visible in the far distance.

Tar Hollow had finally returned to the Moorlands.

Beimcu was already observing the vista from the hillock. &We finally made it. Now what?& She asked her commander.

Oevcn scratched his head. &I guess we head to Brackwater Swamp and see if we can find out where any our survivors went or any information about the prisoners taken.&

The tan, brown and gray agouti cyno shook her head. &They’re probably all dead already.&

Her commander was silent for a long time. &At least we’ll know then.& He finally replied.

***

In a long skirmish line, the cynocephali trudged over the swamps, searching for a cruel enemy they could not corner. It was rough terrain for a confrontation; the bogs spread over a wide expanse, watery muck sinking up to cyno knees, insects biting, the stick of decaying matter messing with the sense of smell, the humidity causing fur to stick to the body. The only advantage was that the area hindered their retreating adversaries as well, trapping their horses and sickening the legionaries and reducing the dangers of cavalry raids. A few prisoners were even able to escape in the chaotic landscape.

This particular morning, along with being generally wet and miserable was also foggy, the mist reducing visibility to a few feet.

Beimcu silently moved ahead with her scouts, spread out thinly and even further than the main body, on the alert for any signs of the enemy.

Brackwater Swamp loomed ahead; the small army would reach it before the morning was done. No one knew what to expect at the old settlement.

Oevcn was nervous. In fact he was afraid. Sweat accumulated on his brow, and the dark cyno clutched his gonne tightly to hide that his hands were shaking.

Oevcn had faced death before, indeed he had almost been trampled by giant elk, half set aflame by the Overmountain Men and nearly struck down by horsemen at the gates of Tar Hollow itself. The dark cyno was certainly not thrilled about facing death again, but in a way it was familiar. This however was different.

Oevcn was less afraid of death than he was of defeat. He was afraid of failure, of losing his friends through his mistakes like what had happened with Athur. He didn't want to fail Beimcu, or Myrewecs, or Rewrkerw. The dark cyno didn't want to humiliate his mother or his fathers. He didn't want to let Tar Hollow down.

The strike force carefully trudged toward the island, weapons at the ready; archers had their arrows notched, and swordsmen had their blades drawn. Oevcn had his gonne loaded and fuse threaded. The dark cyno touched the lit match that quietly simmered from his waist. His heart was racing.

Surely the Legionnaires would fight; this was the most defensible location in the Moorlands.

Surely the new Condottiero of the Calaveras Legion was awaiting him.

Surely some trap had been laid out to ensnare Oevcn’s forces, to try to destroy them, to kill them all.

As the advance ascended a rise, the dark cyno felt his heart going up his throat. The fight could be violent and bloody. Who would live? Who would die? What would happen if he failed? Would the killers and slavers go back to Tar Hollow? Could he win?

At that moment, more than anything, Oevcn the Brave, Oevcn son of Favcn the Reborn, wished that he was back at Tar Hollow. But he also lacked the courage to halt his strikeforce, to pause and reevaluate the situation, so they slowly continued on.

Step by step, the force continued to their possible doom.

Then the cynos ascended a small hill to finally see the settlement of Blackwater Swamp abruptly materialize out of the fog: a boardwalk-lined island of hide-covered wooden huts barely rising above the swampy waters around it. The boardwalks and buildings remained as last seen by members of the tribe, just now ruined and collapsing.

Notably there were no fortifications. There were no flags. A large, seemingly new corral lay empty.

Blackwater Swamp looked abandoned.

In an instant all of the tension building up over the course of the day evaporated.

The dark cyno stopped before the sight and breathed a deep sigh of relief, extinguishing his match. Around him, the advance abruptly ground to a halt as his warriors came to the same realization as he did.

The enemy had fled.

There would be no fight.

&Oevcn, they're gone.& Beimcu confirmed a few minutes later.

&Are you sure?&

&We swept through Brackwater Swamp without meeting a single living enemy. They did leave our fallen people on display, but I think it's weeks old from when they first attacked. The enemy appears to have fled quickly, even killing their wounded in the meeting house. What should we do now?&

Oevcn thought for a minute. &We make camp on the island, and fortify it from the outside before we move in. There may still be traps. Then we continue the pursuit &

&Understood.&

As fresh troops posted guard and the rest of the team broke for camp, Oevcn settled down beside a small rock and waited for his heart to calm down.

The events of what had happened ran through his head. Though the climactic fight had failed to occur here, the dark cyno had come away with a fresh realization of the legionnaires.

They were afraid of him.

At the same time Oevcn had been afraid of the forces and leader of the dreaded Calaveras Legion, the Legion and its new Condottiero seemed to also be afraid of him.

The dark cyno had never considered that.

But as the young leader began to doze into a nap, he would do his best to remember that.

---

U2 - Running To Stand Still

From  chickenzaur!

Original: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/58366823/