Day Three: Early Morning

[Orion]

The sun rose above the horizon for the third time since the changelings arrived on the island. Its strong presence seemed to scare the clouds into departing, forming a clear section of sky around the mountains that was surrounded by them. Again, it was a tranquil morning, absent from the assumed violence and war that was erupting all around them, but out of their perception. Koola wished they were more involved, but gazing at his father's wound and the sudden twinge of pain from his bullet ridden side gave his bloodlust pause.

Feeling a quake from his stomach, the prince reached into his drawstring bag and brought his bread and water into the light. Taking a sizeable bite into his bread, he mulled over if Cold would ever regain the use of his arm while they were there. It was still attached, but barely. If the weakened emperor were to get too close to the heat of battle, the arm would probably give way. Not wanting to see his father lose an advantage, Koola hoped that they would soon find some sort of medical kit to reverse the condition.

"So how's it hanging?" Koola asked nonchalantly.

Cold seemed a little unimpressed from his son's choice of phrasing. "...Yeah, it's still there. Don't touch it."

"Wasn't planning to." The prince returned his bread to the bag and removed the lid on his water, taking a swig. "There's only twenty nine left here now, y'know. We're in with an inside shot."

"Well, we've got a better chance than those already dead," Cold stated obviously. "And as much fun as winning would be, I'd rather fix my arm and start busting heads."

"I'd suggest a spar to liven ourselves up a bit, but I'm afraid you'd lose that paperweight."

"What? You don't think this can be fixed?" Cold motioned to his damaged arm with his other.

"I'm not saying that," his son replied defensively. "But you need to be aware that we can be jumped at any time, and if we are... well, your deadened limb will be more of a hindrance than anything."

The horned patriarch hadn't thought about that, as the expression on his face showed. "Perhaps," he half heartedly agreed, hoping that a situation like that would not arise.

"At any rate, we just need to keep moving and hope we can find some supplies." Koola gave Cold's wound another look. The blood had clotted somewhat; it still seeped a little, but it didn't flow nearly as freely as it had a day ago. Dizziness and fainting would be symptoms that his father should be clear from now.

The father and son Icers made it over a small hill, which overlooked a valley. It gave them a good view of their landscape. Again, no one was visible or audible. For now, that was a very good thing.

"Keep your eyes peeled," King Cold said seriously.