Ok, inspired by Micah's muilti-pic series, I made my own:
Bacon....I haven't had bacon in years...
Shainya rolled over and opened her eyes. A fire crackled in front of her; bacon was sizzling in a pan, the smell enticing. Shainya reached out for the food but stopped, groaning, when pain lanced through her battered body. A hand gently forced her back down and a voice murmured, “Easy there, don't strain yourself...you’re lucky to be alive…”
Shainya looked up into ice-blue eyes. “Who...are you?” she croaked.
“My name is Dale,” was the reply.
Shainya looked blearily at him. “What...you...doing here?” she mumbled.
Dale returned to the fire and skewered the bacon with a knife. “I was wandering through this area when I saw smoke and fire. I found no one alive and I was about to leave when I heard your cries.”
Shainya blanched. No one left alive? She scrambled to her feet, swaying. Dale tried to push her back down saying, “Don’t, you’re not fit to…” but she pushed him aside.
“Go ‘way.” she murmured. She steadied herself and turned around, surveying the horror around her. Not a building was standing; everything was smoldering - both human and houses. Shainya eyes filled with tears, and she sank back into darkness.
Later that night, Dale shook her awake. “Some one approaches…” he whispered.
Bjarn sagged in his saddle and the three horses whinnied nervously as they entered the burnt ruins of the small village of Olgendale. He wrinkled his nose as a whiff of charred human flesh reached his nostrils. Bjarn dismounted and tied the horses to a post. He readied his bow and stalked quietly in the growing dark, ready at a moment to flee or fight. He cocked his remaining ear and listened carefully.
What was that?
He could here rustling ahead of him. Was it friend or foe? Bjarn crept forward and then stopped. Two people were ahead of him, trying to not be seen. Bjarn stepped forward boldly and shouted.
“My name is Bjarn, and I am of the Forestmen. What has happened here and why are you hiding?”
The two figures shifted. One stood up and approached Bjarn slowly, raising a long, lop-sided object for protection. Bjarn loosened his bow and replaced the arrow.
“I mean no harm.” he assured.
The figure lowered it's weapon and straightened. “Then you are welcome, Bjarn of the Forestmen. I am Dale, a wanderer and bard.”
Bjarn shook the hand of Dale and nodded. “Who is your companion?”
Dale's eyes softened. “She is called Shainya, and she is the sole remaining resident of Olgendale. I fear she is wounded greatly, both in mind and body. I have no skill in the art of healing and have been unable to aid her. Might you help?”
“I, too, have little skill at healing, but I will see what I can do.”
Bjarn approached Shainya carefully. She was once again asleep, and was not aware of his presence. Bjarn quietly examined her while Dale concentrated on starting a fire.
I wish Reno was here... thought Bjarn, Dreadful burns, broken bones...this poor girl is a mess.
Bjarn straightened and walked over to Dale.
“Well?” Dale asked, “Can you help her?”
“I can set her broken bones and try to cool her fever, but there is nothing I can do about her many burns. We need to get her to a real healer, and fast.”
Bjarn and Dale quickly set up a crude sling on one of the horses Bjarn had and placed Shainya in it as carefully as possible. They got on to the other to horse and began to trot away from the remains of Olgendale.