The Wounded

My eyes followed Alexican's form carefully from underneath my hood as she moved towards her things. By the sound of it, her father was either handicapped or imprisoned; maybe a little bit of both. As far as I knew, Ukaor was none of the above. Perhaps I was wrong, maybe she wasn't his daughter.

But then the way she walked did seem strikingly familiar.

I decided I was probably just exhausted and turned to find a spot to sleep. Glancing at Lace I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. I should've told him. Maybe he wouldn't have listened but I still should've told him. 

Blowing out my breath in weariness and regret, I changed my direction and crouched next to Rerin, who seemed days more drained then I was. I couldn't imagine the chunks of energy magic sapped out of a person.

"I'll watch them," I muttered, "You go get some rest."
He looked up at me and I could tell he was about to protest but fatigue overcame him and he nodded before dragging his feet to the nearest clear spot of ground.

Lace looked more pale than I'd ever seen a human before and I wanted to do something other than wait for the anitode to take effect, but there was nothing. It had a very fragile chemistry and even moving him too much would make it backfire.

So I turned to Arien. Luckily she was asleep.  But by the look of the gashes I assumed she was in a world of nightmares. Still, some sleep is better than none.


No. Later, not now. To distract myself I pulled some aloe vera leaves from my pack and cut one in half. Rolling up my left pant leg I plastered the two halfs on my blistering skin and gritted my teeth to withold a yell. After the excrutiating pain subsided I screwed my eyes shut and moved the leaves to another spot to start the process over.

Really I needed some veracream, but I'd used all the other ingredients in Lace's anitode so just the leaves would have to do. I would just have to be on the look out for more for a few weeks.

The End

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