Chapter 1a
Blood covers the poor girl as she runs. And run. Twigs and branches from underlying roots scratch and rip pieces of her dress. Her long curly blond hair covers her bleeding forehead—beads of sweat form on the edge of her face.
If she’s correct, the next outpost should be two miles away from here. Now, it would be fine if only her legs and body were cooperating. The ground is shifting, twisting, and churning deliberately under her feet. She stumbles on a rock, barely able to stop her fall in time by clinging to a nearby tree.
She huffed, her hazy eyes searching for anything of use to lie down on. Nothing was useful enough, so she sits against the oak tree. The barks and branches pricked at her back. Yet fatigue like an evil temptress entices her into a nice, calming rest. Fluttering her eyelashes close, she succumbs to the temptation, already forgetting the troubles she ran into this afternoon. Or the old coachman she left in her haste to run from those barbaric thieves. She figured she would apologize if she finds him.
…
“.....S… okay?”
Her tired eyes flicker open, her vision clouded, but she still saw a person’s silhouette. He’s close. Far too close. And who knows what he was doing before waking her up! She moves backward, her mind reeling with plausible scenarios. She ignores the painful aches in her lower back and the uncomfortable prodding from the lower branches of the tree.
“S-Stay back!” She shouted, ignoring the feeling of getting cornered like an animal. “Or I’ll…I’ll..” she snagged a branch from the tree, “I’ll stabbed you with this branch!”
It was violent, yes, and utterly unlady like for her, but it got the point across. A smirk appears on his face, but it went away quickly. She thought she’d merely imagine it.
“Hey, hey, wait, don’t be scared! Um, here.”
He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. And she did, reluctantly. He grips her gloved hands, pulling her up.
“Thank you,” she smiles as a sign of gratitude.
“Ah, you’re bleeding, miss.”
“I am?”
She hadn’t noticed it before, but now that the stranger had said something, she could feel the dark red liquid pooling down her cheeks. It terrifies her. The thought of not seeing where the wound is or how bad it is. Perhaps it’s what causes her dizziness earlier.
“Well, where is it?!” She asks, hands frantically looking around her head for any sign of injury.
“Don’t worry, I can heal it.”
“Heal it?”
Ah, right. She didn’t see it earlier, but the pointed ears and the ghastly, unnatural color of his silver hair were more obvious now. It made her feel silly for not noticing them earlier. Though luckily, she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of a commoner or a noble. Still, her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.
“Yes, I can heal your wounds.”
“How do you..?” She trails off.
Healers from elven backgrounds were rare and, more often than not, treated better because of their rarity. They often aided knights in battles, and most have seen them with higher nobility and royalty. Their healing abilities all varied from a simple touch, to emotions, and so on.
“Oh, well, I apologize in advance, my lady.”
“Pardon?”
He pressed a small, smooth kiss on her temple. She winces at the unexpected action, ready to reprimand him for the inappropriate gesture. Then it happened, slowly at first, but she felt the blood slowly disappearing, as if it had never been there. Tingling sensations pulsates throughout her body. Her shoulder droops and she relaxes at the end of the process.
Just as quick as it came, it was gone just as quickly.
