As he opened his eyes, it took a minute for him to understand, but the battle was over.
They had lost. Cartref had fallen.

He had dedicated his entire life to protect his home. Trained every day to one day die for his country, but now...

Now his country had fallen and he was still breathing.

A bitter emptiness filled his soul with this realization. Why was he still alive? Why him?

His eyes wandered over the valley, where mere hours ago steel hit steel and tore flesh. The bodies of his comrades were barely recognizable anymore. It was an image he would never forget.

He broke his spear, knowing that in his condition any fight was futile, and made it into a splint for his broken leg.

Then he walked off, without looking back.

Off to find a new home.

---

This is my entry into ruietto's What's In a Word? skin contest. My word was "hiraeth", welsh for "homesickness tinged with grief and sadness over the lost or departed".