The scavengers returned with the cautious steps of carrion birds. Led by a few of the bolder sergeants, the men who had fled the battlefield now crept back onto the gore-soaked field, their eyes wide with a mixture of shame and greed.
"Get all of it!" a sergeant barked, his voice too loud in the eerie quiet. "The meat, the pelts, the cores if you can find 'em! Get all our brothers, too. Nothing of value left behind!"
The lesser tiger-serpent was also hauled away. It was grim, efficient work.
"Hey! Over here! This one's still alive!"
The call came from near the splintered oak. Two men had rolled a body onto its back. It was Eis, pale as death, his armour and clothes soaked through with drying blood, a gaping, horrific wound in his abdomen.
Kael, a lanky warrior with a scar across his cheek, pushed through the small crowd. He looked down, recognition dawning. "Hey… I know that guy."
"Barely breathing. Waste of supplies," grunted one of the men.
"Give him to me," Kael said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I know where to take him. He might have kin nearby."
Shrugging, the men helped. They weren't healers, but they knew enough field dressing to staunch the worst of the bleeding with coarse bandages and a thick poultice of crushed medicinal herbs that did little more than mask the smell of death.
They hoisted Eis onto a makeshift litter of cloaks and spears, his body limp and frighteningly light.
The journey to the fringe village was tense and slow. Every jostle drew a faint, pained breath from Eis. Kael led the way, his eyes scanning the treeline, hoping his gamble paid off. Finally, they reached the familiar, moss-covered hut at the village's edge.
"Mi-ra!" Kael called out, knocking sharply on the heavy wooden door. "I have your foundling! Guh-guh-guh-guh-guh. Mira, I have something that has your name on it! Mira!"
The door swung open. Mira stood there, her wild, dark hair framing a face usually set in a permanent scowl of concentration.
Her eyes, a startling shade of green, went immediately to the broken form on the litter. All the colour drained from her face, replaced by a terrifying, silent fury.
"I believe this is yours," Kael said, attempting a smile that wavered under her gaze.
Mira didn't speak. She just reached out, her hands surprisingly strong, and took Eis from them, pulling him into her arms with a gentleness that contrasted with the violence in her eyes.
"About this, Mira," Kael started, shifting nervously. "It was harder to get him here than we thought. We had to use a lot of our own materials to patch him up for the trip. Good quality poultices—"
"You can come back later," Mira cut him off, her voice low and strained. "I will give you five mana crystals."
Before he could reply, she slammed the door in his face with a finality that echoed through the quiet clearing.
Inside, the hut was warm and smelled of drying herbs and earth. Mira carried Eis to her own bed, laying him down with infinite care. The crude field dressings were sodden and useless.
She stripped them away, her breath catching at the sight of the brutal puncture wound and the constellation of broken bones beneath his bruised skin.
Her hands began to glow with a soft, verdant light. It was not the flashy magic of battle-mages; this was deeper, older, the magic of growth, of mending, of life stubbornly insisting on itself.
She placed her palms over the worst of the wounds, and the green light seeped into him, knitting ravaged flesh, coaxing shattered bone to seek its own kind, purging stagnant blood and sealing ruptured vessels.
For three hours, she worked without pause. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and the lines around her eyes deepened with strain.
The green glow never faltered, pulsing in time with her own steady heartbeat. She whispered words in a tongue not heard in the mortal world for centuries, commands to cells and sinew.
Slowly, the deathly pallor left Eis's skin. The terrifying shallowness of his breathing deepened into the rhythm of true sleep. The wounds closed, leaving only angry pink scars that would, in time, fade to silver.
Finally, when the last internal tear was healed and the final bone was set, the glow faded from her hands.
Mira slumped into a chair beside the bed, utterly spent, her own energy given freely to fuel his return.
She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, her earlier fury now melted into a profound, weary relief. He was alive. He was back. And he was, once again, entirely her problem.
By the fourth day, Eis's physical wounds were completely healed. The scars had faded to barely visible lines, and his breathing was strong and steady.
But Mira knew the truth that the others couldn't see: his mana reserves were dangerously depleted, drained by the massive expenditure of using the Void-Core Grenade and the subsequent healing process.
"He'll need a few more days of rest to recover his magical energy," she told no one in particular as she prepared a simple broth, adding precious mana-recovery herbs that made the liquid shimmer with faint silver light.
Day One: She spoon-fed him the soup, her touch gentle but firm. When he was too weak to swallow properly, she resorted to mouth-to-mouth feeding, her lips pressing against his as she carefully transferred the nourishing liquid. Her eyes remained closed throughout, focused entirely on healing, not on the intimacy of the act.
Day Two:"Guh guh guh!" Kael's voice echoed outside. "We need a healer at the village chief's hut! Some warriors didn't get treatment from the other healers!"
Mira opened the door to find Kael and two other villagers, their arms full of wounded men. Without a word, she shoved several expensive healing potions into their arms.
"Go away," she said, her face dark with anger at the interruption.
Day Three:"Guh guh guh! crystals!" Kael called out, and Mira opened the door long enough to hand over the promised payment, her expression softening only slightly.
Day Four: Eis still lay in bed when a woman barged through the door. Lysara, her eyes already red and teary from crying, looked around frantically.
"I heard the monster horde is over. Is Eis here?" she asked, her voice breaking.
"Don't worry, Lysara. He is here, but he hasn't woken up yet," Mira said gently.
Lysara knelt beside the bed, taking a long moment to look at her son, Mira's nephew, before finally standing. "Look after him, okay? And thank you, Mira. I owe you."
Day Five: It happened suddenly. Eis's eyes fluttered open just as Mira was leaning down, her beautiful pink lips pressing against his as she transferred another spoonful of soup from her mouth to his. Her beautiful brown eyes were closed in concentration.
When she pulled away and saw his eyes open, she raised her hand and slap! The sound echoed through the hut as her palm connected with his cheek, leaving it red and stinging.
His untidy eyes immediately showed signs of happiness and relief. Eis just waited for her to say something, thinking he'd done something wrong.
"You... you... Why can't you take care of yourself, Eis? All you want is to make me worry every time! Eis, you come here worse than the last, you want to kill me with stress! I can't do this anymore!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.
Eis stood up slowly, his movements still weak, and wrapped his arms around the short, curvy woman. His hands found their familiar places, one holding her close, the other gently squeezing her firm ass, as he pulled her small head against his chest.
"I'm sorry, Auntie. I didn't want it to be like this. I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice soft like a child seeking attention.
She responded by increasing the volume of her crying, her tears soaking through his shirt.
After a while, the cries subsided. "Okay, just promise me you won't do that again, Eis. You go into danger and hope to survive; that's not good at all. And you have all of us worried about you, that's not good."
He simply sealed her lips with his own and waited for her to close her eyes. Then he held her by the waist and made her sit on his lap, her perfectly rounded ass in the right place, her legs draped along his side.
"I'm sorry. Okay, now let's eat like we were doing, okay?"
"But you're awake now. Your hands work."
"No, they feel very weak," he said, though one hand was already around her waist while the other began caressing her inner thigh.
"Okay," she relented, taking a spoonful of soup and moving it toward his mouth.
"My neck still hurts. I don't think I can move it."
"You don't need to. Just open your mouth."
"No, I want to do it the other way, or I'm not eating."
Feeling helpless, she put the spoon in her own mouth and then kissed him deeply.
When he opened his mouth to receive the soup, she smiled against his lips, knowing exactly how to get her way with this foolish, reckless boy she loved so dearly.