Only one time had he been as cold as he was now. That night. Only once before had he felt such pain and hopelessness. That night he was in agony, trying to breathe through his broken nose. Today he struggled to do the same, but it was his ribs that tortured him.
“I saw you crawling in the grass. You left a red trail behind you. It seemed like your hair was painting everything. Mud filled the insides of your nails. I knelt next to you and offered you my hand. I asked you to take it and come with me.” - the woman said.
“But I refused.” - Roric replied.
“You refused.” - she said.
“I asked you not to take me now. I begged you.” - the soldier was now remembering.
“You did. And do you remember what you promised me, soldier? I’ve had this conversation thousands of times before. I had it earlier today with some of the men lying around you. Your boyar begged me the same way. On that day in the forest, I wondered what you could give me in return for your life. All of them keep quiet. They just beg. Kings. Emperors. Gods. But you answered me.” - Death told him.
“I told you that if you let me go, I’ll give you a life worth ten others in the end.” - Roric said slowly.
“Yes. I did not touch you that day. You became a legend, the red-haired boy who beat death. Even then, broken, hungry, and scared, you had more fire in your soul than most people gathered in their lifetime. I knew I’d made a good bargain, and I’m here to collect my debt. So tell me, have you lived a life worth ten others?” - she asked and smiled.
“I’ll tell you about the life I lived.” - Roric said.