The Necroshine

by Stephen P Smith

  When the battle was done Gothorm retreated from Alvilda making her drop to the ground. The two were drained of all of their energy and took a moment to rest.

  “Thank you.” Alvilda said.

  “For what?” Gothorm asked.

  “For saving us.”

  “Save you? Never think it! I did this to save myself.”

  Alvilda did not respond to Gothorm. She stood up and walked over to the smoldering werewolf to retrieve her sword. Alvilda pulled the blade out of the burnt corpse and examined it before sheathing it. She took a quick glance around to be sure that Halldor was no longer there. He was gone but not dead, and she had a feeling that the two of them would meet again.

  *

  By the time Alvilda made her way back to the drop, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. She picked up her cloak and dusted it off. She stood looking out over the valley for a moment before she made her descent. She thought about the rolling hills and the village of Biddle Grove that lay beyond. If the God’s are good Endre will be there, Alvilda thought as a smile began to crest on her face.