Ohne let the maul fall beside the two corpses she just made. She brushed her shaking hands against her trousers, unaware of her gloves, and turned towards the teenager she’d let in. He stared at her with wide eyes, and soon lowered them towards her stomach. She frowned. Before she could do anything else, her legs failed her.
Pain irradiated from her right flank, but she didn’t cry until it reached her chest. She wiped her forehead, and then reached down to press on her coat, trying to stop the bleeding. She’d never seen blood so dark before. What’s wrong with me?
She turned towards the young man she had saved. He was skinny, wouldn’t be able to drag her to the village even if his life depended on it, even though hers did. She barely managed to separate her clenched jaws to talk, “Run!” she ordered. “Go find someone.”
Could she cauterize the wound? She’d have to start a fire and probably didn’t have the guts to close the wound herself. The boy… The boy was too frightened to do anything. Nobody ran like that without a good reason to do so.
“Go find someone, or there won’t be anyone to protect you, next time,” she spat with all the anger she could gather.
He trembled, incapable of even looking at her anymore, but suddenly nodded and stood up. Without a word, he exited the cabin. He couldn’t possibly miss the village, the dirt road led straight to it.
Ohne tried to sit up, but felt dizzy and immediately stopped. She lay on the ground, looking away from the dead bodies. Her head felt lighter and lighter, but every now and then, she felt the cold wind sweeping through the door, brushing against her naked nape.
“Turn her on the side.”
Hands on her shoulders and thighs startled her. Was I asleep? Ohne didn’t feel the need to struggle. The newcomers weren’t restraining her, merely positioning her. Once she rested on her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of the black eyes watching her. The theurgist pushed away her hand and lifted her coat and shirt. Ohne heard a groan of discomfort from one of the men she couldn’t see.
“Am I done?” she asked in a husky voice.
“No,” the theurgist said.
Ohne suddenly cried out of pain as she felt his fingers entering her wound, tearing her flesh apart. She bit on her thumb. I can’t be weak.
“What are you doing?” asked one of the spectators before another one hushed him.
The theurgist couldn’t care less for them, or for her. He just kept manipulating the wound, silently.
The fog that wrapped Ohne’s mind slowly started to fade as the man channeled the divine to heal her; and the more alert she was, the more pain she felt. She didn’t realize she was shaking until she heard the man, beyond the loud beating of her heart, ordering people to hold her down.
The world around her collapsed moments after.