[Howsa] - Through the Fire and the Flames
Howsa felt darkness and fire. He always knew that was how it was going to end for him, but he expected the heat to be more intense. The sensation was muted though, less like the searing sting of the liquid fire he carried and more like he was sitting too close to a campfire. Sounds slowly filtered in next, the rustling of branches and leaves in the wind and birds.
Pain came next, and his eyes snapped open. He was hanging in a tree, loosely suspended by the half-broken branches and the one that punched straight through his lower leg. Down below him in the brownish-water of Dustwallow marsh he could almost make out the blackened remains of his bat. So many years she’d carried him.
She’d obeyed him so faithfully, even through the pain from the arrows that struck her she obeyed him, setting her wings and beginning the dive to bring them both to glory. He rubbed at his face, wiping away the water dripping down over his eyes.
He knew what should have happened; they both should have dropped down among the enemy, the bottles shattering and the volatile liquids inside scattering flame and death all around them. Instead one lucky arrow had hit him in the shoulder, knocking him out of the saddle and pitching him into this tree.
He gritted his teeth as the wind shook the branches, the tiny shivering of the one stuck through his leg sending waves of pain up his body. He craned his neck, peering down at the swamp. No enemies in sight. They probably thought he’d burned away, judging by the size of the soggy ash pile around where his friend had died.
The Darkspear could still use him; he needed to return and report. Now, how to get down out of the tree?