Athran gave him another nod, and grabbed more pieces of meat to roast in the fire. Instead of holding them in his hand, he stuck them onto a long, thin knife, and cooked three at once. Even though it wasn't the best roasted deer ever, they appeared and smelled edible, and once all of them were done, he packed them and sat beside the kindling flames once again.
"I'll take watch. I hardly ever sleep more than four times a week, anyway." he whispered, despite knowing that his companion was already asleep. They will travel for many days... The ruins are far. It was time to get rid of some things that would only get in his way.
Another blade glinted between his fingers, and his left hand clenched around the long wisps of hair, hanging by the sides of his face. It was left long for such a long time... He cut all of them off without wincing, till they reached only a little longer than to his shoulders. It was a habit that he did before every journey - the long hair looked good, but only got in his way. There was no need for it.
Fire licked the raven-black locks that fell into it. The smell of burning hair filled the air for a short while, but the Black Sword sat behind it like a statue of stone, his long shadow drawn onto the stone behind.
It was time to go... One of the few times when he didn't travel by himself or with Maigrod.
Athran kept on guard through the whole night, moving towards the edge of the cliff when the fire burned out. In the darkness, many things moved under the shadows of the trees, but only few escaped his watchful sight.
At last, the bleak light of sunrise appeared above the eastern horizon, coloring the clouds into a lighter blue than the black ink that covered the rest of the sky. Athran's tall figure, standing on the edge of the cliff, appeared like a dark silhouette, unnaturally lifeless.