On The Way

“What was that out there?” Engel stood over Jente where she was kneeling behind a fallen chariot, trembling, bleeding from a wound in her thigh.

“I saw --” She swallowed hard. “It’s time.”

“Time?” Engel turned to gaze across the battlefield, at the fallen soldiers from both sides.

“I saw him. At least, I think it was him. It was either him or a memory.”

Jente might have been talking to her herself; Engel wasn’t sure.

“So we have to go back to Old Master?” Engel asked.

“No. We move on. But we have to make a stop on the way.”