Chapter 1
Without a sound Sarah Gorden drew her knife from its sheath. She slowly brought the blade out from beneath the fur she had been sleeping under. Eyes still closed she hushed her breath, straining her ears to hear anything out of place, but the only sound that she could hear was the pounding of her heart. Opening one eye, then the other, she peered out at the forest before her. Last time she had been woken from sleep while in the wilderness a wolf had attacked her in hopes of an easy meal.
Giving the grounds a quick glance over she sighed with relief. There was no hostile movement coming from the shadows. With a grunt she stood up, it was better to be safe then sorry. Mid stretch, she froze, there was a lump laying on the ground at the edge of her camp.
She dropped into a defensive stance and edged towards the figure in front of her, her knife still clutched in her hand. A corpse of an animal meant she would have a sleepless night, predators would not be far behind.
She reached the form on the ground and felt her heart give a lurch. A human body lay sprawled on the ground. A cloud shifted and a sliver of light from the moon illuminated the body in front of her.
She inhaled sharply and blinked.
Strapping and exquisite, this guy would of been something for other men to envy, with his intense masculine splendor, rippling muscles and carved edges. At the moment though he looked like he had just come off worse in a fight with a ravenous mountain lion. An irate gash, as long as her hand, caught her eye amongst a plethora of bruises and smaller cuts.
Sarah dropped to one to one knee to get a closer look. Men did not just appear from out of the wilderness, especially in the state this one was in. It was strange to actually meet someone in the forest, let alone appear at her campsite in the middle of the night, horribly wounded.
There was nothing but forest around them, and the closest village would take days to reach. A lone hunter might appear, but rarely so late in the year, when the nights were freezing and the animals scarce. The first snows of winter had fallen earlier that week, signaling everyone to find shelter. There was not permanent snow on the ground yet, but that would change in a week, maybe sooner.
Her free hand felt for the man's neck, pressing two fingers lightly on the artery, she held her breath. Faintly she felt the throb of a pulse signaling that he was alive, even if barely. Her nose and brow wrinkled as she felt the pulse for a few more seconds, contemplating her next course of action. Removing her hand from his neck she used it to lightly tap the man on the cheeks, hoping to rouse some sort of response. She waited, but he gave no physical or verbal signs of consciousness. Cursing herself, she quickly sheathed her knife and repositioned herself so that she was near his head. Placing her hands under his arms she gave a grunt as she lifted his shoulders and began dragging him back towards her camp.
Grinding her teeth in frustration from dragging the dead weight Sarah slowly dragged him closer to the camp fire. As they got closer to the fire's light she let out a small gasp when she became aware of the dark trail of blood that followed them. She did not know bodies could contain so much blood. She slowly and methodically laid the man down next to the fire and unsheathed her knife. Carefully cutting away his clothes, beneath them she found crimson makeshift bandages that must of been from a cloak the stranger had been wearing. She put her knife beneath the crimson bandages and started to cut them away from his skin. Too far gone to struggle, the man simply groaned in pain as she stripped the bandages away.
Glancing over the body she saw large gashes that left little doubt he had been on the wrong side of a really blunt sword or dagger. The skin around the cuts were purple and inflamed with infection, and dirt and grime had stuck to the areas with dried blood. Glancing at his face she found that his eyes were open and staring at her, bright with fever. It took several seconds for her to register that the man was conscious. Once the realization dawned on her, she took the chance to see if she could get the man to speak. "I need to know, when were you injured?"
His mouth opened but no sound came out. Opening his mouth again he murmured, "Two... days? It's hazy."
She sat still a moment, stunned that the man had been out in the woods for two days. Usually someone with these kinds of wounds would not make it past a single night. He was extremely lucky that he had not been attacked by the wolves that frequent the area, of dehydration, or by blood loss. Had he not found her that night he would of been dead by morning. He might not make it still.
"You need water and I need to clean those wounds. Stay here." As if he was going to be moving anywhere any time soon. Forcing herself into action, she stood and walked over to her supplies and rummaged through them. She grabbed a small iron bowl, quickly filled it with water and placed it over the fire to heat.
She returned to her supplies for the water skin before returning to the man. She leaned down and raised his head, hoping that he would still be able ingest water without choking. "Open your mouth." His mouth opened and she slowly poured some water into his mouth. He coughed sporadically a few seconds later and weakly turned his head away from the water. Worried, she sat the water skin down and continued to hold his head up.
While waiting for the bowl of water to warm up, she studied the man, hoping to figure out something she could do to help him. Despite knowing that it would be futile she placed her hand on the strangers forehead and tried to clear her mind. Nothing. No energy, no thoughts. To think that at one time she could touch someone and learn how they were doing and what they were thinking. Now nothing, it was just a void.
"Who did this to you?"
"I don't remember."
She let a moment of silence pass. "More water?"
"Please."
There was another moment of silence as she offered him another drink from the water skin. After he turned his head away, she laid his head down on the ground and stood up. "I need to clean your wounds. It will hurt."
She gathered her supplies from her bags and hurried back to his side. His lips were blue in the firelight and his body shuddered every few seconds. The small cuts covering his body were not something to be happy about, but the worst news were the gashes from the sword. She cleaned the gashes first, wincing each time she peeled dried blood, grime, hair and dirt from him. "Gentle Spirit?"
His labored voice was only able to make a whisper of a sound. He had a slight accent, a hint of something from the south. His brow was lined with pain, his eyes were slits.
She smiled as best she could, while concentrating at the task at hand. "Sorry, no Spirits here. My name's Sarah." She worked fast, taking advantage of his distraction.
"My name is... by the Maker... It's Alex." He winced and squirmed as she bathed the wounds with hot water and a healing herb she carried with her. Lining his wounds with herbs she tied bandages around them and looked down at him. His breaths came in shallow wheezes, blood still oozed slowly from his wounds, his forehead still felt like fire. Frustrated, she ran her fingers through his hair. She had done all that she could, now it was up to fate.
"More water?"
He gave a slight nod and raised his head.
