His sharp rebuke hung heavily in the air.
Elowyn merely raised her eyebrows in mild surprise, completely unfazed. She held her tongue not out of obedience, but because the sheer, unexpected bite of his temper had caught her off guard.
If anything, she was far more confused than she was offended.
Why did HE sound so upset?
Did she perhaps say something wrong?
Meanwhile, the irritated stranger dragged a palm over his face, suppressing a low groan as another agonizing pain slammed against the back of his eyes.
Hah... he felt inexplicably infuriated at her, at his state, at everything.
What was happening to him?
Why did he feel like this?
Before he could sink further into his frustration, the leather flap lifted, and another presence stepped into the cozy shelter. He looked up, his golden eyes narrowing as they landed on a tall fox beastman.
As he met the healer’s cool amber gaze, a strange, ghost-like flicker of familiarity brushed against the back of his mind, halting his thoughts. He frowned inwardly, discarding the sensation instantly. In a state like this, he couldn’t trust a single trick his already battered mind played on him.
"You woke up sooner than I expected," the healer uttered softly, his tone completely neutral, but there was a hint of relief in it too. He knelt beside the fur pallet without hesitation, stretching out a long-fingered hand. "Give me your wrist. I need to read your rhythm."
Despite the thousands of demanding questions fighting for dominance in his head, the silver-haired stranger reluctantly obliged, extending his pale arm. He watched as the fox healer pressed two fingers to his inner wrist, carefully measuring his pulse.
"Weak," the healer concluded, pulling his hand away. "Dangerously so.You survived by a thread, and forcing yourself to move now will only undo what little recovery you’ve made. Frankly speaking, your waking is nothing short of a miracle."
The silver-haired stranger eyed the supposed healer. His voice was strangely soothing, a smooth balanced tone that grated against his raw nerves.
He studied their expressions carefully, searching for a flaw in the performance. But there was none. Neither of them were acting. Their astonishment was entirely genuine. They had truly believed he would die.
Had his condition truly been far more severe than it was now?
How long has he been unconscious?
"Tell us," the healer continued, curious for some answers. "What is your name? What exactly happened to you? How did you end up in these mountains?"
The silver-haired stranger lowered his gaze, delving desperately into the dark corners of his mind for an answer.He searched for something, anything at all, but it was like screaming into an abyss. A dark, soundless one.
While his memory was like a blank slate, his blood sang with a dark, suffocating resentment. A bitter fury thrummed through his veins,so heavy and deeply rooted it felt like the core of his existence, though he couldn’t name what he hated so profoundly. Read the latest chapters at novelping(.)com.
"I don’t know," he said, his voice flat and hard.
The admission brought a swift, troubled silence to the shelter as Elowyn and the Fox beastman traded a glance.
"You don’t know how you were injured or..."
"I can’t remember," the stranger interrupted, his jaw tightening until it hurt as he bared the indignity of his words. "I can’t remember anything."
A flicker of surprise crossed the healer’s features. His brows furrowed slightly. "That’s odd. The head injury was minor, hardly enough to erase your mind entirely. But do not despair, memories often return once the body heals."
The beastman gestured toward Elowyn standing nearby. "In any case, you owe your life to Elowyn. Had she not spotted you buried in the snow, you wouldn’t be here right now."
Hearing this, the stranger tilted his head toward her.
Elowyn’s cheeks flushed under his intense scrutiny. "N-no!" She insisted, shaking her head and waving her hands in protest. "The healer deserves the credit. He’s the one who kept you alive! I only dragged you here."
He didn’t answer.
He watched the silent interplay between her and the fox beastman, searching for the unspoken thread connecting them.
Were they families? Allies? Or simply two opportunists playing some elaborate game with his broken mind?
He stared down at Elowyn and scoffed inwardly.
The idea that this tiny creature had saved him felt almost absurd. How could a woman so slender and frail move his weight?
But with his body crippled and his mind blank, he was utterly powerless. For now, he would have to play the quiet invalid, humoring their display of mercy until his memories and his true strength returned.
When dawn broke, he had already forced himself upright, resting his back against the shelter’s wall. Sometimes during his fevered state, someone had freshly bound his wounds and scrubbed dried blood and dirt from his skin.
The sheer level of care felt far too deliberate.
Why waste time, medicine, and labor on a nameless half-dead outsider? He may have lost his memories, but he wasn’t naive. Altruism was a myth. Everyone demanded a price eventually.
He would keep his guard up.
When the leather flap opened, his gaze shifted to Elowyn who stepped inside. She made her way toward her corner to retrieve some supplies, unaware of how intently he was dissecting her every motion.
And that was when the contrast finally struck him.
She was different.
Was that normal around here?
The thought turned inward as he checked himself.
Am I normal too?
He looked down at his own bandaged chest and pale, unblemished hands. He had no claws, no furs, no beastly traits of his own.
Yet every time the fox beastman had stood over him, a strange, suffocating wave of vulnerability had washed through his chest. It had felt like a hollow space, as though some essential, foundational piece of his identity had been stripped away. Was his instincts grieving a form he no longer had access to?
Had he lost something he once possessed?
No. That wasn’t the whole truth.
There was something else.
But what was it?
Meanwhile, just beyond the shelter, the crisp morning air bit at Elowyn’s skin. She stood frozen by the low fire, staring wide-eyed at the steaming bowl the healer held out to her.
"Take it to him," the fox beastman instructed gently.
Elowyn shook her head immediately, refusing to close her fingers around the bowl.
"I think it’s better if you give it to him," she insisted, her voice tight. She had already experienced his sharp temper firsthand, and the thought of being trapped inside with him, serving the unappreciative stranger like a maid, made every instinct in her scream. "If I go in there, he’ll probably just throw it at me."
"Why would he do that?" the healer inquired, sounding infuriatingly calm. He kept the wooden bowl extended, forcing her to confront it. "You cannot avoid him forever, Elowyn. You must get used to his presence. He needs to live, and you will have to handle it by yourself. I leave for the capital at dawn."
Elowyn had already been questioning why the healer was letting that insufferable, gorgeous stranger get away with such foul behavior, but this news hit her like an avalanche.
She froze in her spot, and the world around her turned dead silent.
Leaving? Tomorrow?