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They sat about the campfire, set separate from the rest of the caravan. The caravan leader, a thin frail wisp of a man, told them that they were no more than two more days travel from Caldeum. Leah wished she could be glad to hear it, but mostly she was just terrified of what she knew they faced.
Tyrael sat, eyes closed, facing the fire. If Leah hadn’t known any better, she would have thought him asleep. Even mortal though, the former Arch-angel of Justice rarely slept. She still found herself amazed that he was even there. Amazed at everything he had sacrificed to be there.
Behind her she could hear Lyndon and Kormac bickering back and forth over she knew not what, although she was sure that Lyndon needn’t say anything to set the Templar off.
Further back, hidden within the shadows cast by the fire, was him. She watched him as he cleaned one of his crossbows. In his dark armor he almost seemed to melt into the darkness surrounding him. Were it not for the small glint of his eyes deep within his hood she wasn’t sure she’d even know that he was there.
He sat apart from them, like he always did, not used to traveling with companions. Most nights he would stand on the outer edge of their camp, staring out into the darkened landscape. Sometimes she was almost certain that when she woke up the next morning he would be gone, choosing to move ahead on his own. Every morning she woke up he was still there though, awake before the rest of them and ready to head out. He was used to a life of constant travel; and used to a life of constant battle.
She thought back to the day that she had first set eyes on him. He had just walked into the inn back in New Tristram, asking her about the fallen star. In all her travels with her Uncle Deckard she had never once met a demon hunter before. He had told her stories about them, about how they dedicated their lives to fighting the forces of Hell. Still, she found herself wholly unprepared for the sort of man who had stood before her. Wrapped in his dark cloak, face hidden within his deep hood but for the glow of his eyes, she almost feared he himself was one of the demons.
That was until the infected villagers began to turn.
The women and children barely even began to scream before his cloak opened to reveal his twin crossbows, one in each hand. He swung them both around and with no hesitation had tree bolts embedded in three of the turned villager’s sculls. They hesitated, not even sure where the attack had come from. In their hesitation he dispatched two more.
Leah had run for one of the children, a young girl no older than four who had strayed to close to the fighting, and pulled her close as one of the monsters began to moved for them. Leah pushed the child behind her and pulled the bow from her back, ready to defend herself even as she could feel her blood begin to freeze with terror.
The child clung to her leg as she stared down the demon spawn, knocking an arrow, her hands steady even in her fear. She had no need to though, for before she could even aim, the villager’s face exploded as one of the hunter’s crossbow bolts hit it from behind, splattering gore over the floor at her feet.
And just like that, it had been over nearly as quickly as it had begun, the dark stranger standing in the middle of the inn, surrounded by his kills. She could only stand there in a daze with the child still clung to her, hysterically crying for a mother she was likely never to see again.
It wasn’t until he had approached her, crossbows now back at his sides, hidden by his cloak, that she managed to pull herself out of it.
“Are you alright, Leah?” His voice broke the silence, pulling her back into the present.
She looked back across the fire at him, his strange eyes now fixed on her, crossbow forgotten in his lap. None of the others had moved since her lapse into memory.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking.” It was a lame explanation she knew but she felt too embarrassed to admit she had been thinking of him. Still, she felt herself blush and tried to convince herself that it was because of the heat.
His lip curled into a small smirk. “Copper for your thoughts?”
She laughed. She could probably count on one hand the number of times she had heard him tell anything that resembled a joke — and still probably have fingers left over. Tyrael opened an eye briefly but just as quickly closed it again, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
She had to admit, it felt strange to laugh after everything that had happened. After Uncle Deckard had been killed, she hadn’t thought she’d ever be able to laugh again.
She stood, brushed the dust from her pants and walked over to join him. She could see him tense a bit but he quickly relaxed as she lowered herself back down to the ground next to him.
“Do you really think we’ll be able to do it?” she asked. “Kill Belial, I mean.”
“I think that we have no choice but to succeed,” he said, voice low to match hers. She watched him as he stared out at the darkness beyond their little camp. She could see him losing himself in the past now, thinking of tragedies from long ago.
She felt the question forming on the tip of her tongue again. Could feel herself wanting to ask, but she stopped herself. His past was his own, and she knew he had no need to share it with a stranger like her.
She tore her gaze away, looking back into the fire, now burned down to barely even the embers. She felt silly then for coming over there, thinking that he would even be interested in her company.
She was just about to return to her original place when she felt a hand rest upon her own. She turned to look at him, too startled to say anything as she looked into his eyes.
“We will win this, Leah.” His voice held no doubt and she found herself taking strength from it. “I promise you, we will win this.”
She turned her hand and squeezed his in reassurance, filling herself with the truth of his words. They would prevail, she told herself. Even if she had to kill herself to do so, she knew that they would prevail.