Paces

Garand looked back at the others with a barely audible exhale, before pulling his tattered cloak tighter around him. Blood would not be enough, now they set off to lose their lives. He wasn't exactly pleased what with their desired destination being the depths of Hel, however, it was as if his mind, body, and soul refused to allow him to turn back. Be it some sense of honor and loyalty, or just plain stubbornness, he had traveled with this pack for far too long to leave them now. Or perhaps that was just his latest excuse.

No longer feeling quite as unfamiliar or as unwelcome had he had before (however, he did feel much colder now), Garand trudged up forth, only paces behind Balar himself. This was mostly due to wanting to reach some place of warmth relatively soon. At this rate, he was going to be very sick.