The journey back to the village was a blur of jolting pain and semi-consciousness for Eis. He was vaguely aware of the crunch of boots on gravel, the low muttering of the two hunters, and the overwhelming metallic scent of his own blood mixed with the pungent salve they'd applied.
They didn't go to the centre of the village. Instead, they took a side path that led to a small, isolated cottage nestled against the ancient woods, the very woods that had nearly claimed his life.
Smoke curled from the chimney, and the air was thick with the smell of drying herbs and antiseptic tinctures. This was the home of Mira, the village healer, and his aunt.
One of the hunters, a burly man named Kael, pounded a fist against the heavy wooden door. "Mira! We've got something of yours!"
The door swung open to reveal a woman whose face held a timeless, ageless beauty, looking no older than twenty despite being in her late forties.
Her shoulder-length purple hair was pulled back in a severe bun that only accentuated her striking features.
She had a curvy, athletic build, and her hands, resting on her hips, were stained with earth and dried potions. Her eyes, the same sharp grey as Eis's, widened a fraction as they fell upon the boy slung over Kael's shoulder.
"By the Old Gods," she breathed, her voice raspy. "Bring him in. Gently, you oaf!"
They carried Eis inside and laid him on a low cot near the fireplace. The warmth was a stark contrast to the deathly cold that had been seeping into him. Mira was already moving, her hands fluttering over his wounds, assessing the damage with a practised eye.
Kael cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "It was quite a scene we found him in."
Mira didn't look up, her fingers gently probing the brutal bite on Eis's neck. "I see."
"Wasn't easy getting him back here," the other hunter, Roric, added. "Lost good daylight. Used up a poultice, too. Good quality."
Mira finally stopped her ministrations and fixed them with a flat, knowing stare. "Get to the point."
Kael smirked. "Five kilos. Tier 1 meat. For bringing him back alive."
A tense silence filled the small cottage, broken only by the crackle of the fire and Eis's ragged breathing. Mira's expression didn't change. She looked from their greedy faces down to her nephew, hovering on the edge of death. Her jaw tightened.
Without a word, she straightened up, walked to a smoked haunch of boar hanging from a rafter, and sawed off a massive chunk with a wicked-looking knife. She weighed it quickly on a scale, wrapped it in coarse cloth, and thrust it into Kael's chest.
"Get out," she said, her voice dangerously low.
The hunters didn't need to be told twice. They snatched the payment, muttered a quick thanks, and practically fled from the cottage, the door slamming shut behind them.
Only then did Mira let her composure crack. A single, weary sigh escaped her lips as she turned back to Eis, her hands now gentle as she began the real work of saving his life.
Mira placed her hands over the deep gashes on Eis's torso. A soft, green light emanated from her palms, and the torn flesh began to knit itself together, slowly and meticulously.
"He's lost a lot of blood," she murmured to herself, her brow furrowed in concentration. She moved to a shelf cluttered with vials, selecting two filled with a viscous, amber liquid. "The recovery potions are expensive... but anything for Eis."
Gently, she pried his jaw open and tipped the potions into his mouth, massaging his throat to encourage a swallow.
"He'll be up in two to three days," she declared, just as the door to her hut burst open.
A woman stumbled in, her brown hair dishevelled and her brown eyes wide with panic. She shared Eis's features but with a more pronounced, curvy frame. "My baby! What happened?" she cried, rushing to his side and collapsing to her knees to clutch his limp hand.
"Relax, Lysara, he is fine," Mira said, placing a steadying hand on her sister's shoulder. "He should wake in a couple of days."
"But what happened to him?"
"A group of hunters found him in the forest after the trial. He had a nasty bite and was bleeding out. They brought him here. I've fixed him up."
"Thank you, sister. I owe you. I'll send Kaela with a side of meat after I get home."
"No, Lysara, you don't need to. Eis is my own blood. I will do everything in my power to save him."
"Thank you, anyway, Mira."
"Go home. You can come back in three days. He will be okay."
With a final, worried glance, Eis's mother waved goodbye and disappeared back into the village. Mira pulled a chair to the bedside, sitting down to watch over her nephew, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and deep affection.
After two days of constant care, of spoon-feeding broth and more potions, Eis's eyelids finally fluttered open. His vision blurred, then cleared on a familiar figure standing at the counter, her back to him. She was humming a soft, quaint tune as she chopped vegetables. He knew instantly it was his Auntie Mira.
She turned, and seeing him awake, her face lit up with relief for a single second before it hardened. She marched to his bedside and, without a word, brought her hand down in a sharp, stinging slap across his cheek.
The sting of the slap was still fresh on his cheek, but the sight before him made the pain irrelevant. Mira was pouting, her full lips trembling, and her sharp, grey eyes were glistening, threatening to spill over at any moment.
Eis looked at her, bewildered, as a single tear traced a path through the dust on her face.
"It's you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "How dare you show your face to me after what you said? You told me I made your life miserable. That you didn't want me as an auntie!" Her voice rose, trembling with raw hurt. "Is it my fault I was born with such a body? That men look at me and cause you trouble? Am I to blame for that?"
She could hold it back no longer. A ragged sob escaped her, and then another, as she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She wasn't just crying; she was releasing weeks, maybe months, of pent-up hurt.
Eis stared in disbelief. That bastard said this to her? To her? A cold, grim satisfaction settled in his gut. "Well," he said, his voice low and steady. "It's a good thing he's dead."
He pushed himself up, ignoring the lingering weakness in his limbs, and wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened for a second before collapsing against him, her sobs muffled by his shoulder.
"Auntie, I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair, the scent of earth and herbs a familiar comfort. "All that I said... I didn't mean a word of it. It was just... I was pressured by a lot of people.
The other boys, their taunts... it was getting hard to bear, and I took it out on you. I was a coward."
He held her there, in the quiet of the hut, as her weeping gradually subsided into shaky breaths and sniffles. He felt her slowly calm in his embrace, her hands coming up to clutch at the back of his tunic.
A few minutes passed in the quiet comfort of their reconciliation. Then, Mira's voice, small and slightly muffled, broke the silence.
"Eis," she said, her tone shifting from grief to a note of gentle, almost amused, admonishment. "I don't think your hands are supposed to be there."
Eis blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of his own body. In his earnest attempt to comfort her, his right hand had drifted from the middle of her back and was now resting firmly on her ass.
"Eis l don't think your hands are supposed to be there", she said, still feeling emotional after how she just cried in the arms of her nephew.
Eis tried to move his hands to her waist, but she moved them back to their original position, grabbing her ass "l did not say remove them, l kinda like it"