He doesn't know what's going on, and yet at the same time it's agonizingly clear, familiar as the screech of tortured muscles after battle. He knows where that desolation comes from.
"They're what? Fucking--we can't hold the line like this! We can't do it without the Horde!"
"Look at them! They're gone, we have to go, there's too many--"
"But the Highlord! The Highlord, he's still...I'm not going without Fordring, I won't do it--"
"If we don't go now, there won't be a Crusade left for him to lead."
He reaches for Myr's shoulder, fearful for his health in body and soul, and holds it tight.
"It isn't failing them if you let go of the ones beyond help, friend. But you don't help anything if you wear out all your strength so you have none left for the living. They're the ones who need you. These ones--all that can help them now is prayer."
It's a speech he's given more times than he can count, on that interminable journey back from the Broken Shore.
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"Is that--she can't be--the bitch is calling retreat! They're leaving us!"
"They're what? Fucking--we can't hold the line like this! We can't do it without the Horde!"
"Look at them! They're gone, we have to go, there's too many--"
"But the Highlord! The Highlord, he's still...I'm not going without Fordring, I won't do it--"
"If we don't go now, there won't be a Crusade left for him to lead."
He reaches for Myr's shoulder, fearful for his health in body and soul, and holds it tight.
"It isn't failing them if you let go of the ones beyond help, friend. But you don't help anything if you wear out all your strength so you have none left for the living. They're the ones who need you. These ones--all that can help them now is prayer."
It's a speech he's given more times than he can count, on that interminable journey back from the Broken Shore.