Elowyn couldn’t resist taking a step closer to the tree, but the healer’s hand caught her shoulder, pulling her back into the safety of his shadow.
Just like her, he appeared wary.
"But how can it be right here?" Elowyn whispered to no one in particular, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of it. "Is it possible there’s more than one?"
She would have sworn on her life it was the exact tree where she dug out the stranger, except that was miles up the mountain. A tree couldn’t simply uproot itself and stroll down to the creek bank overnight. Nature didn’t work like that... at least not the nature she understood.
"It would do us better if we kept our distance," the healer advised, his tone leaving no room for debate. "You have lived in these outskirts long enough to know that the mountains play tricks on the eyes. We do not know what kind of entity nurtures that tree yet, which means we do not know what danger it presents. We leave it alone."
Without waiting for her response, he scooped up the heavy wooden buckets and turned back toward the snowy ridge.
Elowyn lingered a second longer, but his words echoed continuously in her thoughts.
Entity?
She cast one distrustful glance at the vibrant emerald leaves before turning to follow. But just as she shifted her weight, a subtle rustle caught the corner of her eye. She whipped her head back so fast, and she would have sworn on her ancestors’ graves that a thick, serpentine branch wiggled almost playfully at her.
Was she really starting to lose it?
Maybe she should ask the healer for a head remedy, because it seems like she was officially going mad.
*******
By the time the silver-haired stranger opened his eyes once more, pitch darkness had completely consumed the mountain, leaving only the low, orange flicker of the fire outside to illuminate the shelter’s walls.
The moment he managed to sit up, a vicious, blinding ache hammered his skull.
He squeezed his eyes shut, digging his fingers brutally into his forehead as every pulse sent a fresh wave of agony searing through his mind.
Pushing through the pain, he forced his vision back into focus and squinted, straining to read the dimness of the shelter.
"Where am I?"
Knowing that just lying here would bring him no answers, he attempted to stand. However, his limbs rebelled, and his legs gave out before he could even lift his weight.
In a stubborn attempt to keep pushing his broken body, a jagged wave of pain tore up his spine, shattering his resolve.
He collapsed back onto the fur bedding and lay there, panting as he stared blindly up.
Unacceptable. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
The word flared in his mind before his thoughts could catch up.
This had to be some sort of humiliation ritual.
Not only was he trapped in an unfamiliar environment, but every nerve in his body burned as if he had been dragged through hell itself. Yet the physical agony was nothing compared to the void in his mind.
He could not remember a single thing.
His name... his home... not even a single memory to explain why he was lying half-dead in the dark.
Pride and irritation flared against his exhaustion. As he stared up blankly, a face suddenly took shape in his mind. It was the gentle, expressive face that lingered just above him when he had first opened his eyes.
Or was it a dream?
No.
Someone had been here.
But where was she now?
Right on cue, muted voices drifted in from outside. It sounded hushed and conversational, blending with the steady crackle of the fire.
Were there more people?
Disgusted by his own weakness, he ground his teeth, braced his arms and hauled himself upright. Instinct alone told him that lying here like a helpless invalid was an absolute indignity.
He wasn’t built to be weak.
But who was he?
Why did his own mind refuse to answer him?
The questions circled endlessly, offering nothing in return.
Before he could make another stubborn attempt to rise back to his feet, the leather curtain shifted aside, and a sharp, startled gasp cut through the dim shelter.
He looked up just in time to meet the gaze of the young woman stepping inside.
Before he could open his mouth to demand what was happening, and who she was, she had already turned back to the cold outside.
"Mr. Healer, come quickly! He’s awake!"
A heartbeat later, she retreated into the shelter. She seemed visibly relieved to see him sitting up, yet every step she took was cautious, keeping her beyond his reach.
He watched her, motionless and silent, dissecting every detail.
She was breathtaking, and something about her hypnotized him on the spot.
She was a complete stranger, yet entirely captivating all the same. Intricate braids, wooden beads and delicate feathers were woven through her long, cascading dark hair, framing a face of quiet, mature beauty. Her luminous ice-blue eyes held a piercing clarity, whilst her strange attire remained draped gracefully over her slender figure.
Beautiful as she was, her hesitation was glaringly obvious.
Was she frightened of him?
He scowled inwardly and instantly crushed the thought. It was irrelevant. He had neither the time nor the patience for foolish curiosity about some complete stranger.
"The healer will be here soon," she offered softly. When he remained silent, she swallowed and tried again, clearly desperate to break the oppressive silence. "I’m Elowyn. And we mean you no harm."
A cold edge of irritation cut through the fog in his mind. Did this girl truly believe he was cowering on this pallet, terrified of what she or anyone else might do to him?
The very suggestion was an insult.
Yet even through his temper, the soft, smooth cadence of her voice struck a strangely pleasant chord deep inside him, humming against his senses like a melody.
He ground his teeth, repulsed by his own traitorous mind. It didn’t matter.
None of this mattered.
Focus.
What was happening to him? Was this bizarre cloudiness some pathetic side effect of whatever had wrecked him?
"Do you need anything?" Elowyn asked softly, searching his pale face for any sign of distress.
"Can you stop talking?" His response cut through the shelter like ice, harsh and clipped.