AnonymousRaine
No Good, Two-Timing Dame
Her words passed through me like a cool breeze. They meant little. Some part of me wondered how she had gotten free, but the sliced rope on the ground behind her and knife in hand gave enough hints to satisfy me. I didn't think it necessary to search her for more weapons. I thought I'd keep my eye on her for as long as necessary, as to stop her from seeking any.
Accidents happen.
It didn't especially seem to bother me right now.
Through a thick layer of apathy I functioned, moving into the shelter of the trees and waiting for her to expose the wound. While she began to disrobe I fetched the rope, cut in two but still usable, and coiled it into my rucksack.
Moving behind her then, I knelt without a sound. The knife was heavy in my hand, and took more control to direct the movements but it was not difficult.
One leg of the 'x' still sat, weeping openly down her back. The arrow looked harmless, innocent, but something kept me from wanting to touch it.
I said nothing. I breathed shallow and soft. Small plumes of moisture escaped into the cold night air - although it was not as dark as it previously seemed - and slowly I moved the blade to her wound.
It was quick. Three more slices completed the action and with nimble fingers plucked the arrow from its found home, gently laying it aside.
It wasn't too deep, in the end. The head had just barely buried itself beneath the surface and extraction was a simple matter. Leaving it imbedded kept further contaminants from entering the wound. Cleaning became the next task and I stood, taking the arrow with me and walking back out into the rain.
She mentioned the walk to Sirdca not being far. Was it really? How much of her trust had truly been earned, been stolen, in the time of need?
The currents of the stream were swift. Placing the arrow in the flow I let loose my grip, allowing the water to take it away. I kept my hand in the water, watching in the surrounding darkness as the fresh blood on my hands was washed away.
How much did I trust her? She had freed herself from her bonds but neglected the opportunity to kill me. To injure me. Granted, were it not for me the arrow would still be infecting her. But if Sirdca were to genuinely be close, would she have made it?
These were questions I saw no point in asking.
Retrieving a small patch of clean gauze from my pack I dipped it into the stream, and taking another I returned behind her.
"Tell me of these Cleansing Pyres you spoke of before. It seems that rumors have been spreading in our absence."
The words were cold and emotionless. The apathy was almost refreshing now, compared to the dismal fear and anger that enveloped me before. My hands moved without thought, gently and briskly cleansing the wound with the wet cloth before packing it firmly with the dry. No doubt contact of any sort in the gash hurt like the hells - but it would keep safe this way until antisceptic and proper medical attention could be found.
I picked up my knife again, using the reverse side of the wetted cloth to clean it while I spoke.
"We have always had those fearful but you make it sound as if your religions have latched onto us as a symbol of evil."
I chose to ignore her comment about sleeping in trees. Partially because of the racist overtones. And partially because, in all honesty, lacking a warm bed and soft sheets, I would.
Accidents happen.
It didn't especially seem to bother me right now.
Through a thick layer of apathy I functioned, moving into the shelter of the trees and waiting for her to expose the wound. While she began to disrobe I fetched the rope, cut in two but still usable, and coiled it into my rucksack.
Moving behind her then, I knelt without a sound. The knife was heavy in my hand, and took more control to direct the movements but it was not difficult.
One leg of the 'x' still sat, weeping openly down her back. The arrow looked harmless, innocent, but something kept me from wanting to touch it.
I said nothing. I breathed shallow and soft. Small plumes of moisture escaped into the cold night air - although it was not as dark as it previously seemed - and slowly I moved the blade to her wound.
It was quick. Three more slices completed the action and with nimble fingers plucked the arrow from its found home, gently laying it aside.
It wasn't too deep, in the end. The head had just barely buried itself beneath the surface and extraction was a simple matter. Leaving it imbedded kept further contaminants from entering the wound. Cleaning became the next task and I stood, taking the arrow with me and walking back out into the rain.
She mentioned the walk to Sirdca not being far. Was it really? How much of her trust had truly been earned, been stolen, in the time of need?
The currents of the stream were swift. Placing the arrow in the flow I let loose my grip, allowing the water to take it away. I kept my hand in the water, watching in the surrounding darkness as the fresh blood on my hands was washed away.
How much did I trust her? She had freed herself from her bonds but neglected the opportunity to kill me. To injure me. Granted, were it not for me the arrow would still be infecting her. But if Sirdca were to genuinely be close, would she have made it?
These were questions I saw no point in asking.
Retrieving a small patch of clean gauze from my pack I dipped it into the stream, and taking another I returned behind her.
"Tell me of these Cleansing Pyres you spoke of before. It seems that rumors have been spreading in our absence."
The words were cold and emotionless. The apathy was almost refreshing now, compared to the dismal fear and anger that enveloped me before. My hands moved without thought, gently and briskly cleansing the wound with the wet cloth before packing it firmly with the dry. No doubt contact of any sort in the gash hurt like the hells - but it would keep safe this way until antisceptic and proper medical attention could be found.
I picked up my knife again, using the reverse side of the wetted cloth to clean it while I spoke.
"We have always had those fearful but you make it sound as if your religions have latched onto us as a symbol of evil."
I chose to ignore her comment about sleeping in trees. Partially because of the racist overtones. And partially because, in all honesty, lacking a warm bed and soft sheets, I would.