Book 1: Chapter 47: Through a thin haze.

Book 1: Chapter 47: Through a thin haze.

Naught needed be said. I could feel the proverbial hackles rise as my claymore descended through the air into a readied stance. There were painfully few reasons for this woman to visit her presence upon my door under nights cloak, and none of which I particularly liked.

Fate proved me wrong. The blackguard swung her horse alongside me, sneering down at my raised guard. It was then that I glimpsed the figure slouched behind her, arms wrapped around the dreadknights dark armor. Silver hair, green skin and the smell of dried blood all struck me at the same time. My weapon was tossed aside and Ishilas grumbling body caught as Valencia roughly hauled her up with one hand and tossed her to me.

Questions tumbled through my mind, one quashing the next before they could be voiced.

Your pagan gods have granted you blessings upon blessings this day, bull. Came the derisive laugh from on high as the stallion reared towards the sky. Count them all.

And who should I send to notify you once they have been thoroughly counted? I snarked back, unable to keep myself from rising to her jab. In my defence, the past few days had been an unpleasant experience, and now this topped it all off.

Send unto me anyone you like. Valencia smiled, teeth bared in the moonlight. But make sure you do not want them returned.

Why me? Why not take her back to her parents? I demanded.

Soon there will be death enough for all. The reaper does not yet need me to exacerbate this harvest by ushering in an early dawn.

Her laugh echoed through the chill air, fading into the distance as she wheeled and trotted back into the gloom. Gone just as quickly as her arrival. And here I was left to hold the groaning body of the girl I considered my closest friend.

Artyom answered my bellow, eyes fighting the onslaught of sleep. Door bursted inward under my hoof, I saw the felinid scramble from his bed as I hurried past to dump Ishila into mine. The scent of melted flesh reared fear inside me, followed by an almost instinctive bellow from the healing milk. Irritation flared as he didnt budge. Dissapointment and a hin of fear followed his words.

We have none, no-no. He sleepily grumbled and rubbed at his head. Used it all, yes-yes.Witness the debut of this chapter, unveiled through Ñôv€l--B1n.

My mind stood blank for a moment before realization struck that yes, I had indeed used it all. Between sales to the camp, healing Lerish and my own wounds, my supply was thoroughly exhausted. A few petals had been left to soak today, but they would need days for their effect to spread into the milk. Days I might not have.

Run to the shed. I commanded. Fish what petals you can out of the milk and bring them here. All of them.

Worried gaze cast back at Ishilas quiet form, I too left the house. Hurried strides carried me to my garden where the lone cleric-shine reveled in its pool of liquids. Its petals were premature, small and just beginning to settle into their growth. Without so much as a thought, I plucked them off, cupped them in my hand and hurried back to the house.

Ishila had not magically disappeared during my brief absence, nor showed any signs of wanting to. She lay on the bed, obviously in no small amount of pain. But not pained enough to prevent her from cracking a pained smile as I hovered nervously above her.

Look at you, She croaked. A big, burly healer, worried like an old housewife. I should keep ya around more.

For a heartbeat, I was tempted to roll my eyes so hard heaven itself would break. Just back, obviously been fed through the grinder and already eager to spout off sass. It relieved a part within myself that she had not been changed in this short time. That small piece of me found comfort in that idea. The rest worked on keeping her that way.

Mouth open, tongue out. I rumbled and deposited a few scant petals as she obeyed. My eyes traced massive scars of fused flesh up and down her body. I found myself wincing at the thought of what had caused those.

How? I demanded. Her tired eyes followed by own and the lass groaned.

Valencia.

My temper flared at that moment as my mind ran with possibilities. What had that monstress done to Ishila? Thoughts screamed through my mind, driven by anger and the stirrings of vengeance.

Silence was my answer, but the faint scent of some small happiness reach my nostrils before I strode through the doorway.

I found Artyom leaned against the sheds doorway, slumped and dejected as he stared up at the pale moon.

Questions swirled through my mind, some irate, others worried. I choose the civil response, merely asked if he was alright.

I cant. The felinid replied quietly, his usual excited stammer gone.

Cannot do what? My tone stayed gentle as I squatted before him.

Go inside. Dip my paws in the milk. Feel it on my fur. Smell its sweet, rich scent. Taste its presence on my tongue.

You dont understand, Garek. he continued before I spoke. It is an addiction to my kind. We are born with it, and will die with it. Does this seem like an awkward, inopportune time for it to flare up? That is what I deal with every day, yes-yes. I fled my previous home because I was becoming too reliant on it, spending all my coin on it, about to resign myself to near slavery for another taste.

And all this time I had been making him work right next to it, with it, getting him to carry it.

There was little I could say, just quietly nod, promise to help him with it, and send him back to the house.

Fishing the petals out by myself was a quick task, although I wondered what would have happened if Artyom had tried to. I couldnt imagine, but he obviously knew his demons and what they would have done.

A small batch of petals gathered, I trotted back to my humble abode. Ishila grinned weakly as I entered, followed by a grimace as she swallowed the petals in silence. Much larger than the ones I had plucked from the bloom, these seemed to have a far more noticeable effect. Her hands traced the gash down her front, watched as it began to fade, until all that remained was a thick scar.

Huh.

Indeed. No matter how often Id seen these petals work their magic, there was always a joy in seeing something so pure happen. The act of healing, of mending itself was magical in all the best ways. No other power, skill or act fascinated me as much as seeing what was broken made whole once more.

There is somethin of importance I am tryin to remember. Ishila frowned, halfway through running a finger over another wholly closed wound. She sat upright now, strength returned to her form by the blooms blessed nature. It keeps slippin off my mind.

Perhaps it is not of great import, then. I suggested, tone mild.

But I feel like it is. Somethin crucial. Theres a hole in my memories, and I know its vital to somethin.

It might return in the morning, when you have slept at truly rested. I paused and glanced out the window. Although, that is not far off.

The night had already been late when Valencia had arrived, and now, hours later, the moon was sinking towards the horizon, chased further down as dawn approached.

I have a feeling we should perhaps skip breakfast and get you back to your parents before anything monumental transpires. Wouldnt want them to go and invade the dungeon is search of you because we delayed to have a meal or something foolish like that.

A good plan. Ishila agreed.

And that was that. Dawns pale light had just laced itself across the sky above as we took to the road, Ishila supported at my side and hobbling along. The past few days had been tense, filled with dread and uncertainty. Yet now it was time to take her home.