High Treason

In fleeting moments of dusk as the sky danced in muted brilliance,
she saw his form amid a mixture of dry grass and sunset.
With curiosity prevailing over cowardice,
she edged her way to the seemingly lifeless heap.
The crest of his displaced flag was foreign to her with markings
the likes of which she had never seen.
The wind whispered timidly to her of danger and treachery,
but what of betrayal to someone who had felt its harsh hand
more times than she could bear to count?
Even her name, which had been heartlessly bestowed
upon her as a mere child, once held a potent venom.
She now wore it proudly, with a wisdom of all her twenty years.
Let those who had cast her out so very long ago
be watchful and frightened in her wake.
Fortitude of soul and a pinch of hardheadedness
drove Nefaria to kneel and examine his battered
chain mail and the wounds that seeped from underneath.
Summoning the strength of a dozen warriors,
she pulled his war torn body back through the autumn-cooled
valley to the meager hut that was hearth and home,
oblivious to the peril granted the pair of them
in exchange for her token of solicitude.

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