I can’t believe I expected Bough to come up with a good idea. Hiding beneath a mound of corpses, Spring wanted to roll her eyes at the lumbering oaf’s dumb suggestion. “Hide under the fire. Wildlings would never search there.” Where does he get the inspiration for such nonsense? Someone who doesn’t know how earnest he is might have thought he was cursing them to throw themselves into the pyre.
“Gods! Survivor,” someone shouted and Spring snapped her eyes open, ready to scream. She opened her mouth, then closed them.
Survivor? Nothing changed, she still lay beneath a pile of wildling bodies. It took a moment for her to understand the implication of that shout combined with her circumstances. Survivor! There’s another survivor? What did they see? What did they hear?
Spring’s sap mixed with curdled blood rushed through her body, making her consciousness blur. My plan is ruined. Thorn and the others are long gone, and I can’t join them. I have extensive combat experience, but I can’t handle several hunters of unknown level without offensive grafts or symbionts. Think! Think!
“He’s unconscious,” a different voice reached Spring’s second-ears, and the blighted entered heaven after brushing with hell.
I must kill that survivor when I get the chance.
“Hey, dog bodies are piled up here,” a third person shouted, several steps away from Spring.
This is it!
The weight pressing down on her lightened and the forest’s dim daylight shone on her face.
“Aaaaaaa!” Spring shrieked as loudly as her artificial larynx could handle, which was slightly beyond the human ability.
The bewildered hunter staring at her face jumped back, pressing his hands to his ears.
“It’s the Young Miss,” the second voice identified her blonde hair and rushed towards her.
“Young Miss, are you injured?” Darin asked, extending his hand, but Spring screamed even louder, cowering, and struggling to dig herself deeper into the pile of fetid wood and mush.
Darin clenched his teeth and reached into the mound. “Pardon my offense, Young Miss.”
He pulled her arm, but Spring flailed, fighting with what she estimated was the strength of a woman in late teens. She clawed at the hunter, and surprisingly the man did not activate barkskin, choosing to get injured rather than risk harming his young miss.
Spring’s swipe left three red marks on Darin’s skin, and blood bloomed from two.
That’s it. Spring scream turned into a whimper and she covered her eyes with her free hand, shielding herself from the tiny scarlet beads.
“Young Miss, can you understand me?” Darin asked with a calm voice, which desensitized healers often used. “I am Darin Honne. We are here to help you. Are you injured?”
Spring stole a glance at the man between her fingers. She maintained the look of a terrified animal, but inside she analyzed his bearing, words, and tone.
A second level hunter. He’s struggling to hold me, meaning he has no strength enhancing grafts. He looks like a rugged, seasoned healer. Traumatized humans often react positively towards that fake, flat voice. However, blood is starting to trickle down his face, and, if I want them to believe Jasmine has hemophobia, I can’t calm down just like that.
Spring clenched her eyes shut and whimpered, but she stopped struggling, making it easier for Darin to move her.
She wore Jasmine’s spare dress, torn and smeared with so much disgusting fluids nobody would bother to check it. A large patch of her body was uncovered and indecent, yet a thick layer of pitch obscured all traces of her supple, snow-white skin. The dress caught onto several thorns, ripping further, and Darin stopped pulling.
“Young Miss, please stay there. We will move the wood so as not to injure you. Please, give us a few minutes.” Then the calm voice changed, as Darin turned around towards the rest. “What are you gaping at? Do you want me to dig your eyes out? Come here and give me a hand, Young Miss mustn’t suffer a scratch.”
Spring caught the joyous note in Darin’s voice. He was worried they would blame him for their deaths, or something similar. But now, with his Young Miss still alive, he has avoided the worst punishment, and might even get a reward if he handles everything properly.
I must let him help me recover enough to speak before we join a larger group. But how do I remove the other survivor? Would this Darin suffocate him for me? No, I mustn’t rely on others. Every person I rely on will eventually become another liability, which I must eliminate later on.
Darin and his crew worked like possessed, clearing the mound entrapping Spring in no time.
“Young Miss, pardon my offense.” Darin took Spring’s arm to feel her pulse and noticed the terrified look with which she stared at the gashes on his cheek. He covered the wounds and then focused on her wrist.
He deduced the source of my fear. Now, for the pulse.
Spring diverted a larger part of her juices to pass through her wrist, simulating an increased human heart rate.
“You are slightly nervous, but you don’t seem to suffer from any other wounds,” Darin said, amusing Spring.
The pulse I emulated should be a step away from a heart attack, and yet you call my state slightly nervous?
“I have some calming medicine. Wait a second.” He rummaged through the pouch hanging off his belt. “Here, this will help you relax.”
What the hell do you want to give me? Spring stared at a pinch of clumped up green and pale yellow powders. I have to take it, but how does it work? How long does it take before it takes effect?
Not knowing what else to do, Spring glared at the tiny lump, openly revealing her distrust. Her gambit worked, and Darin spoke in his artificial, soothing voice.
“It’s just garlic and motherwort. Nothing bad can happen from taking it. It tastes horrible, don’t chew it, just swallow it whole with some water.” He took out his waterskin, then looked at it with embarrassment. Darin cleaned the mouth with fresh bandages and offered it along with his medicine.
Spring kept glaring at the medicine and at the waterskin as tense seconds stretched, seeming like hours.
This should be enough. She snatched the poor-man’s heart medicine and threw it into her mouth, then downed it with water. The cool sensation passing down her throat and washing the second-voice was disturbing. The fluid of life which should rise into her body crashed down, making Spring’s insides crawl. She took the horrid sensation better than most blighted would. They avoided water altogether and only drank what little entered their bodies through the bare soles of their feet as they walked or rested.
Despite her fortitude, Spring only took the tiniest mouthful. She believed the sensation akin to what humans might experience when eating their own excrement. She tried to suppress it, but still gagged and sprayed Darin with some water.
Spring threw the skin at the hunter and stepped back, raising her hands defensively.
Darin took everything with a calm expression. He did not flinch when water splashed his face, nor when Spring smacked him with the waterskin.
“Everything is fine. You are safe. Nobody will hurt you.” The healer tried to reassure her, then turned around to the rest.
“Sweep everything. Search for other survivors, and make sure to inspect every elder dog body carefully. Maybe someone else hid within them.”
Funny. You’re trying to sound upright, using such righteous language before an inexperienced girl, when you’re telling your henchmen to search for symbionts and mana cores you can fill your pockets with.
Spring did not follow their movements. She scanned the battlefield. Outwardly, she appeared like she was searching for dangers when in truth, she sought the survivor, the flaw in her perfect plan.
There he is. An elderly one-eyed man with a bloodied temple lay on a ground cleared of wildling corpses. His body was marred with tar, but nowhere nearly as Spring’s. It seems we overdid my mask, but they won’t notice if they haven’t already.
She crouched, hugging her knees as Darin watched her closely.
How long should an inferior hedge-medicine like that need to take effect? Probably several minutes, but there’s also the placating effect of believing you are healing just because you have taken a remedy.
It should be safe to pretend to fall into a deep slumber of an exhausted trauma victim. Breathing is the only problem. I still don’t have the habit of inhaling and exhaling through my nose. I wonder why that is? Did I not need to pretend to breathe before?
Hmm… He’s looking at me expectantly. I guess I should pass out now. Spring let her head slump, pretending to have fallen asleep sitting, her knees to her chest.
“Terr, come here and give me a hand.” Darin hissed, afraid he would wake the Young Miss. “We need to make a stretcher, did any of you bring a blanket? I’ve brought mine, but I guess we’re using it for the stretcher.”
“What about old Skitt?” Terr whispered.
“Maar will carry him across his shoulder. We also need to fix Young Miss’s clothes somehow, or always keep her wrapped. Her um, chest is showing, and her father might gouge our eyes if we saw it.”
“Is Elder Searing that protective of her?”
Darin shook his head. “Not that I know. But she’s a Sun’s future fiancee. She might already be engaged, if the ring is any hint. I don’t know. Regardless, do you think a Sun would let any man say he saw his wife without clothes? Now shut up and work, we’re not out of the weald yet.”
I can’t believe I expected Bough to come up with a good idea. Hiding beneath a mound of corpses, Spring wanted to roll her eyes at the lumbering oaf’s dumb suggestion. “Hide under the fire. Wildlings would never search there.” Where does he get the inspiration for such nonsense? Someone who doesn’t know how earnest he is might have thought he was cursing them to throw themselves into the pyre.
“Gods! Survivor,” someone shouted and Spring snapped her eyes open, ready to scream. She opened her mouth, then closed them.
Survivor? Nothing changed, she still lay beneath a pile of wildling bodies. It took a moment for her to understand the implication of that shout combined with her circumstances. Survivor! There’s another survivor? What did they see? What did they hear?
Spring’s sap mixed with curdled blood rushed through her body, making her consciousness blur. My plan is ruined. Thorn and the others are long gone, and I can’t join them. I have extensive combat experience, but I can’t handle several hunters of unknown level without offensive grafts or symbionts. Think! Think!
“He’s unconscious,” a different voice reached Spring’s second-ears, and the blighted entered heaven after brushing with hell.
I must kill that survivor when I get the chance.
“Hey, dog bodies are piled up here,” a third person shouted, several steps away from Spring.
This is it!
The weight pressing down on her lightened and the forest’s dim daylight shone on her face.
“Aaaaaaa!” Spring shrieked as loudly as her artificial larynx could handle, which was slightly beyond the human ability.
The bewildered hunter staring at her face jumped back, pressing his hands to his ears.
“It’s the Young Miss,” the second voice identified her blonde hair and rushed towards her.
“Young Miss, are you injured?” Darin asked, extending his hand, but Spring screamed even louder, cowering, and struggling to dig herself deeper into the pile of fetid wood and mush.
Darin clenched his teeth and reached into the mound. “Pardon my offense, Young Miss.”
He pulled her arm, but Spring flailed, fighting with what she estimated was the strength of a woman in late teens. She clawed at the hunter, and surprisingly the man did not activate barkskin, choosing to get injured rather than risk harming his young miss.
Spring’s swipe left three red marks on Darin’s skin, and blood bloomed from two.
That’s it. Spring scream turned into a whimper and she covered her eyes with her free hand, shielding herself from the tiny scarlet beads.
“Young Miss, can you understand me?” Darin asked with a calm voice, which desensitized healers often used. “I am Darin Honne. We are here to help you. Are you injured?”
Spring stole a glance at the man between her fingers. She maintained the look of a terrified animal, but inside she analyzed his bearing, words, and tone.
A second level hunter. He’s struggling to hold me, meaning he has no strength enhancing grafts. He looks like a rugged, seasoned healer. Traumatized humans often react positively towards that fake, flat voice. However, blood is starting to trickle down his face, and, if I want them to believe Jasmine has hemophobia, I can’t calm down just like that.
Spring clenched her eyes shut and whimpered, but she stopped struggling, making it easier for Darin to move her.
She wore Jasmine’s spare dress, torn and smeared with so much disgusting fluids nobody would bother to check it. A large patch of her body was uncovered and indecent, yet a thick layer of pitch obscured all traces of her supple, snow-white skin. The dress caught onto several thorns, ripping further, and Darin stopped pulling.
“Young Miss, please stay there. We will move the wood so as not to injure you. Please, give us a few minutes.” Then the calm voice changed, as Darin turned around towards the rest. “What are you gaping at? Do you want me to dig your eyes out? Come here and give me a hand, Young Miss mustn’t suffer a scratch.”
Spring caught the joyous note in Darin’s voice. He was worried they would blame him for their deaths, or something similar. But now, with his Young Miss still alive, he has avoided the worst punishment, and might even get a reward if he handles everything properly.
I must let him help me recover enough to speak before we join a larger group. But how do I remove the other survivor? Would this Darin suffocate him for me? No, I mustn’t rely on others. Every person I rely on will eventually become another liability, which I must eliminate later on.
Darin and his crew worked like possessed, clearing the mound entrapping Spring in no time.
“Young Miss, pardon my offense.” Darin took Spring’s arm to feel her pulse and noticed the terrified look with which she stared at the gashes on his cheek. He covered the wounds and then focused on her wrist.
He deduced the source of my fear. Now, for the pulse.
Spring diverted a larger part of her juices to pass through her wrist, simulating an increased human heart rate.
“You are slightly nervous, but you don’t seem to suffer from any other wounds,” Darin said, amusing Spring.
The pulse I emulated should be a step away from a heart attack, and yet you call my state slightly nervous?
“I have some calming medicine. Wait a second.” He rummaged through the pouch hanging off his belt. “Here, this will help you relax.”
What the hell do you want to give me? Spring stared at a pinch of clumped up green and pale yellow powders. I have to take it, but how does it work? How long does it take before it takes effect?
Not knowing what else to do, Spring glared at the tiny lump, openly revealing her distrust. Her gambit worked, and Darin spoke in his artificial, soothing voice.
“It’s just garlic and motherwort. Nothing bad can happen from taking it. It tastes horrible, don’t chew it, just swallow it whole with some water.” He took out his waterskin, then looked at it with embarrassment. Darin cleaned the mouth with fresh bandages and offered it along with his medicine.
Spring kept glaring at the medicine and at the waterskin as tense seconds stretched, seeming like hours.
This should be enough. She snatched the poor-man’s heart medicine and threw it into her mouth, then downed it with water. The cool sensation passing down her throat and washing the second-voice was disturbing. The fluid of life which should rise into her body crashed down, making Spring’s insides crawl. She took the horrid sensation better than most blighted would. They avoided water altogether and only drank what little entered their bodies through the bare soles of their feet as they walked or rested.
Despite her fortitude, Spring only took the tiniest mouthful. She believed the sensation akin to what humans might experience when eating their own excrement. She tried to suppress it, but still gagged and sprayed Darin with some water.
Spring threw the skin at the hunter and stepped back, raising her hands defensively.
Darin took everything with a calm expression. He did not flinch when water splashed his face, nor when Spring smacked him with the waterskin.
“Everything is fine. You are safe. Nobody will hurt you.” The healer tried to reassure her, then turned around to the rest.
“Sweep everything. Search for other survivors, and make sure to inspect every elder dog body carefully. Maybe someone else hid within them.”
Funny. You’re trying to sound upright, using such righteous language before an inexperienced girl, when you’re telling your henchmen to search for symbionts and mana cores you can fill your pockets with.
Spring did not follow their movements. She scanned the battlefield. Outwardly, she appeared like she was searching for dangers when in truth, she sought the survivor, the flaw in her perfect plan.
There he is. An elderly one-eyed man with a bloodied temple lay on a ground cleared of wildling corpses. His body was marred with tar, but nowhere nearly as Spring’s. It seems we overdid my mask, but they won’t notice if they haven’t already.
She crouched, hugging her knees as Darin watched her closely.
How long should an inferior hedge-medicine like that need to take effect? Probably several minutes, but there’s also the placating effect of believing you are healing just because you have taken a remedy.
It should be safe to pretend to fall into a deep slumber of an exhausted trauma victim. Breathing is the only problem. I still don’t have the habit of inhaling and exhaling through my nose. I wonder why that is? Did I not need to pretend to breathe before?
Hmm… He’s looking at me expectantly. I guess I should pass out now. Spring let her head slump, pretending to have fallen asleep sitting, her knees to her chest.
“Terr, come here and give me a hand.” Darin hissed, afraid he would wake the Young Miss. “We need to make a stretcher, did any of you bring a blanket? I’ve brought mine, but I guess we’re using it for the stretcher.”
“What about old Skitt?” Terr whispered.
“Maar will carry him across his shoulder. We also need to fix Young Miss’s clothes somehow, or always keep her wrapped. Her um, chest is showing, and her father might gouge our eyes if we saw it.”
“Is Elder Searing that protective of her?”
Darin shook his head. “Not that I know. But she’s a Sun’s future fiancee. She might already be engaged, if the ring is any hint. I don’t know. Regardless, do you think a Sun would let any man say he saw his wife without clothes? Now shut up and work, we’re not out of the weald yet.”
