This was War.
Angry and anxious, Fera could feel the war drums pulsating in her veins. As if her heart could burst inside her, and coat the land with her blood, along with many others. She shivered in the cold wind, but she was not sure if it was from fear or from the need to move her limbs and lift her weapons which made her head pound. Horgan looked at her, scowling. The horrific smells of artillery, the tang of blood, the fear that could make a person choke- Fera was stumbling over her courage.
Horgan opened his mouth to say something, but then pressed his lips into a thin line. His gaze was focused on Fera. Fera wondered if he was trying to see her soul, and understand what she was feeling. She had never seen War, and hardly heard about it from the soldiers. Only legends, baseless and misty, supported her beliefs, that she was on the winning side. Horgan had always won his wars.
She looked over the battlefield, monsters and horses scattered in messy lines, and the soldier not flinching from the clang of the metal of there swords. And then back at Horgan. What did he feel? She knew him little, but did he ever get used to this? This- the death, the feeling of hope draining through limbs, the scrape of bloodied sand against your knees.
His expression did not reveal the answer.