Page 15 of An Arrow to the Heart

“I…. ugh…. No,” he admitted, looking toward the floor biting the inside of his lip and he tried to calm his pounding heart.

“It’ll be painful, and it’ll likely get worse before it gets better. But it looks fine,” she said with more understanding than he would have expected from her. He had expected her to lecture him on the need to take the medicine and taking care of himself.

“I can deal with pain,” he said roughly.

“Okay,” she said looking him over, he couldn’t quite place her expression. He must have looked like shit for he sure as Hel felt like it. He could smell the salt-laced sweat coming off him. Not exactly the kind of impression he was hoping to make on her, especially after last night. He needed to get himself better, now with the use of the crutches he’d at least be able to start moving around outside, he could build his strength, he didn’t want to rely on the painkillers any longer and she seemed to understand this.

“I’ll be back in half an hour to change your bandage,” she said as she turned on her heel and left. He slumped back into the bed with relief. He sat for a further minute or so willing his cock to obey with decrepit un-arousing thoughts before tucking into his breakfast, which was, as all her cooking was - excellent.

The food had steadied him somewhat and he felt a little better in himself when Sylvie came back with her basket of healing equipment. She carefully unwrapped the old sodden bandage, with the most gentle of touches she did what she did tending to the wound. She slowly rubbed the green knitbone balm ointment that smelt faintly like comfrey into the now healing tissue before tightly wrapping it in new linen bandages. He already felt less pain.

“There’s a little swelling but that’s to be expected from you moving and it’s a good sign.”

“How long,” he began, “how long do you think until I have more mobility?” he dared himself to ask.

“There’s no way to be sure,” she said and he supposed she could see the disappointment in his face for she added, “but, as long as you stay free of infection I think you should be moving more within half a moon cycle. Although you may need to rely on a crutch for additional support walking until spring.” He grimaced at the thought of needing support until spring, and he thought he would have been horrified at the idea of spending so long in one location but somehow he liked the idea of being compelled to stay in the village over the coming winter.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of broken glass and metal clanging, and a scurry of what sounded like claws against the wooden floors. Sylvie jumped at the sound, it clearly having startled her, adrenaline shot through Ardál’s system at the commotion, and the thought of her in danger. He immediately made to get up, reaching for the scian at his belt that wasn't there. But before he managed to get fully onto his feet, thanks to his fucking knee Sylvie said, “oh shit!”, having quickly peered through the open door down into the living space of the cottage.

His eyes fell upon her laced with worry and he opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke first, “it’s nothing, just the cat knocking something over,” her tone much higher than usual, and as she said the words, she disappeared out the door, shutting it behind her abruptly.

By the time Ardál reached the door to follow he could hear an array of curses flowing from Sylvie’s lips. This only piqued his interest further, he had to see what was going on. The fear of danger replaced by curiosity. He pushed the handle of the door, opening it and stood stunned. He turned his head to the side, not quite believing the scene before him. Broken jam jars on the floor coated the floors in a red sticky mess, and pots and pans lay strewn around as though a tornado had come though the space.

“What am I going to do with you,” Sylvie said, before letting out a big sigh as she spoke to the little beast curled at her feet. If he’d just glanced by he might have mistaken it for a dog. It’s brown colouring reminiscent of many a dog he’d met. But it was feathered and it had the face of an owl, yet it definitely wasn’t one for it had four legs akin to a bear. Phelan pushed past him, enthusiastically wagging his tail as he beelined to the beast, nuzzling against its beak as though they were acquainted. Ardál found himself just standing there, bewildered, speechless.

How hadn't he noticed the beast before?

Was it wild?

Surely not by how it interacted with Sylvie and Phelan. He had so many questions yet all he could do was stand there dumbfounded.

“Oh shit….. Ardál,” said Sylvie, her eyes widened when she turned and noticed him there, apparently only just remembering that he was in the cottage.

“Fuck, sorry, fuck, it’s not what it looks like,” she began, her words spilled out at a much faster rate than normal, “he…. ah…. He was all alone and I couldn’t just leave him out there on his own. His mother died and he was crying when I found him. At first I thought he might have been hurt, but he was just hungry and slightly dehydrated but then he followed me here, I mean of course I kind of led him back here with treats but I mean ultimately he made the decision to come. And he made it apparent that he wanted to stay and how could I not let him stay, he’s just a little cub. He’d likely die out there on his own with no one to look out for him. He’s harmless really, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, okay that’s a lie, he’d probably eat it. But he’s no danger to you or I or Phelan. I ugh… I just worried that if you knew of his being here that you might tell someone and that some of the folk from the village wouldn't be happy having an owlbär so close by and that they might force me to send him back into the wilds…. Or worse.” She let out a long breath, then looked at him with wrinkled brows and eyes full of worry.

A laugh rumbled deep in his chest and he threw his head back in laughter when he couldn’t contain it any longer. He couldn’t help it. She was so adorable.

She straightened her head, watching him laugh for a moment, before pearls of laughter spilled from her own mouth. That absolute gorgeous sound that had first drawn him to her. And they stood there for what felt like an eternity, just laughing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard, he thumped his chest in an effort to get control of himself before he said, “I’ve never seen you so… so flustered, I think that might have been the longest you’ve ever talked without stopping.”

The following days had followed much of the same pattern. He’d take a short walk at dawn after a night of pain, sleep only coming to him out of sheer exhaustion. One of the mornings he could have sworn he saw a dragon flying above the clouds hanging in the mountain. Perhaps he’d imagined it, his mind showing him something he wanted to see. He had found the nights much harder to deal with, the pain surfaced and came to a peak when he was alone with his thoughts. Either way, the early morning walk helped him. He’d explore the nearby woods as long as his knee would allow before returning in time for breakfast. He wouldn’t see Sylvie until then, but the sight of her always brought warmth to his chest. He insisted on continuing to help in any way he could, at the moment that typically meant clearing up dishes and the odd bit of cleaning. He was certain he was merely a hindrance to her, given his slow movements but she indulged him and acted grateful for the help. It had been awkward at first but they had pushed past their incident in the garden to find conversation flowed easily between them.

Then he’d have a nap and upon waking from that he’d go for a walk around the gardens with Phelan and Fermack, he was still getting used to that revelation but the little beast had grown on him and since Phelan didn’t mind, neither did he. August typically appeared sometime in the early afternoon, he’d often woken to find the boy quietly cleaning, whilst the boy always brought him fresh water to clean himself he wanted nothing more than to submerge himself in water and get properly clean. After asking the boy he’d learned there was a lake nearby at the other side of the woods. He hadn’t quite made it as far to discover it himself yet but upon hearing about it became an immediate goal.

In the evenings he’d do another walk around the grounds. He’d take a break on the bench at the rear of the garden and he’d just enjoy the fresh air and watch Sylvie tend to her garden which she did in the evening sun without fail.

He began to notice the patterns of her days too, in the morning’s following breakfast she’d go out to see her patients, occasionally one might come here to seek her out. Then she would spend the afternoons making her various ointments and tinctures. Then she tended to her garden, weather permitting. Followed by supper. She did however disappear for hours at a time from time to time. Though he didn’t press her on it, figuring she didn’t owe him an explanation. This was her home and life after all and he was an imposter in it. He had no right to know her whereabouts, that didn’t deter him from wondering though.

If it wasn’t for the pain in his damned knee he could get used to this life.

With her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

-Sylvie-

The scent of lavender, yarrow, peppermint, thyme and so many more herbs filled Sylvie’s senses, she loved this little room at the far end of the cottage. The whitewashed stone walls, lined with shelves filled with jars upon jars of tinctures, oils, medicines and the lot. She’d made them all herself.