Dozens of men lie dead in the blood-soaked snow after a battle, silence covers the battlefield. Amongst the countless bodies, one young man twitches, and his eyes blink open, blurry and undefined shapes start to refine, and then he touches his temple.
Warm and wet, he pulls away deep red blood-covered fingers and smells them, then licks them and irks back in disgust, hitting his head on a rock.
A sharp pain shoots through his body, and he lets out a primal scream, which startles him, and he covers his mouth, breathing hard into his palms.
A strange numbing feeling snaps him back to reality, and he begins to crawl towards a light in the distance like a baby turtle looking for the shore; he drags himself, gripping onto anything in sight to pull himself closer.
After half an hour of struggling through snow, he reaches a small fire, the source of that light, and 3 silhouettes sit around it huddled together for heat.
One notices a noise, like someone dragging a body muffled by the crackling of fire, they look up and then see a shape moving ever so slowly towards them. The light of the fire catches the edges of the silhouette, a young man, dragging himself through snow outlined before them.
"What's that?" the younger boy in the group asks, in a language the young man does not understand.
a pause...
"No animal..." the older-looking man mumbles. "That's for sure."
The sharp-eyed man leans forward, squinting.
"It's a man..."
"What?!" the youngest blurts. "Shouldn't we help him?"
silence
"Wah-ah..." a broken attempt at mimicking their voices, it sounded wrong, coming out strained and coarse.
Once the man gets to the edge of the firelight, he collapses with a thud, falling unconscious.
The men decide to check on him after a moment of stillness.
The sharp-eyed man puts a finger to his neck, to a pulse. "Still alive," he says calmly to the older man. "Bring him by the fire."
The older one lifts him by the arms, noticing the cold chill radiating from the young man's body onto his back.
The young man, now illuminated by the small fire, had messy brown hair stained with blood on one side and pale skin, his hands were covered in fresh blood and skin cracking from the frost.
He opened his eyes after a few minutes. revealing pale blue gem-like eyes, and startled by the people in front of him, he screams.
"SHIT, WHY'RE YA SCREAMING?" the older man yells.
This only startled the young man once again. causing him to try and run away, but his legs buckle, and he stumbles face-first into the snow.
"Go get him," the older man sighs.
The sharp-eyed man gets up with a deep breath and walks over to the young man, crouching down to his level.
The young man stops for now, not out of understanding but out of exhaustion, making eye contact with the sharp-eyed man.
"Wha...ah..." he tries to mimic them again. but fails.
The older man clicks his tongue. "Great, now we've got a half-dead man who can't even talk," he says frustratedly.
"So what're you gonna do?" the young boy asks, watching from a log.
The young boy leans forward.
"I vote we take him back to the others," he says, an excited gleam in his eyes.
"We can try..." the sharp-eyed man says, still looking down at him with pity.
The older man furrows his brow slightly. "Tsk... fine, but you two are responsible for him," he mumbles.
A rough hand grips his arm, and the young man tenses instantly.
"Easy," the young man mutters as he adjusts his grip, not tight, just enough to lift him properly without letting him fall.
The young man doesn't understand, but the touch makes his body react, and he struggles and squirms.
"stop him," the older man orders, "before he gets hurt."
"Ah," the young man jerks, to pull away, but his body won't obey him, his limbs feel heavy and slow.
They lift him fully, letting his feet drag in the snow as they walk back to a small village in the distance.
"You see that?" the young boy points in the distance. "That's home."
the young man mimics again, "ho...me."
"Yes! That's right, home," the young boy says with a grin.
After a few moments of struggle, they arrive at a small village made of shoddy log walls and small wood and straw huts, a few people gather around and ask questions.
The young man breathes lighter, faster.
"Please don't crowd," the older man says.
"Who's that?" One young woman asks.
"dunno... we just found him half dead on the way back," he says tiredly. "Can't talk, shit, he can barley even walk."
The man suddenly goes limp and passes out in their arms.