Page 7 of An Arrow to the Heart

First, she tended to a male, his guts were spilling out, he was unconscious. She did not think he would make it past the day but nonetheless she wrapped him up as well as she could and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. Then she tended to a female with a slashing wound across her arm. She should be okay Sylvie thought as she handed the woman pain relief, having quickly cleaned the wound and dressed it.

“Healer! Healer! We need a healer over here!” Called a familiar voice from the front lines of the fighting. Sylvie’s heart dropped to her stomach as she reached Ortolf, smeared blood all over his hands.

He must have noticed her horrified look as she took in the state of him for he quickly added, “it’s not mine.” Sylvie sighed a sigh of relief and quickly noticed where Ortolf’s attention had been focused. He was kneeling by the side of a male she did not recognise, though she knew that if Ortolf was by his side the man was worth tending to.

Ortolf supported the human man’s head, his brown hair curled around his face, beads of sweat and blood had wet the ends of it and his eyes glared skyward before he shut them completely as unconsciousness took hold.

From a quick assessment she deduced that the man had taken a blow to the back of the head, most likely when he fell due to receiving an arrow in the knee.

CHAPTER SIX

-Ardál-

Ardál scrunched his eyes as he rubbed them furiously, the light in the room blinding him, which didn’t help his pounding headache. He went to move to get up and get his bearings but suddenly felt a sharp pain radiating up his left leg when he tried to move it and with that his memories came flooding in. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead, shaking it and he remembered how he’d fought alongside the folk from the village. The persistent bone-deep ache in his leg burned with each beat of his heart. He’d taken an arrow in the knee.

Fuck.

Where was he?

He needed to get back out there, how long had he been out?

Gods, he prayed that the folk of the village who’d welcomed him so well were safe.

He needed to fight.

But his legs refused to move.

As his eyes adjusted to the light he began to take scope of where he was. It was an unfamiliar room, the room only big enough for the bed in which he lay, a small simple wooden table with a wash basin atop it and a chair beneath a small window. Next to him was a table with an assortment of medical bottles and clean scraps of fabric. A chamber pot sat half under the bed. He didn’t even want to think about that.

Above all however, there was an overwhelming scent of flowers and herbs. Looking up he saw why, there was a rack with drying plants strung up wall to wall casting a cloud of dried flowers above him. He managed to get into an upright sitting position and was beyond relieved to find Phelan asleep on the floor by the bed. Sitting up he was now able to see out the little window and he relaxed his shoulders somewhat, though true relaxation eluded him thanks to the gut-wrenching pain.

Ardál looked out to an overgrown garden and though it looked half wild he could see it was a productive one.

Rows of raised wooden planters were full to bursting in an array of vegetable plants, from where he sat he could make out squash plants, their giant leaves spilling over the sides of the beds, laden with large fruits of orange, yellows, and whites. Some of the beds were connected by wooden arches, runner beans and some other things he couldn't quite make out dangling from their centre. Weeds sprouted though the stone path that weaved between the abundant beds, leading to a pavilion in the heart of the garden, a rustic looking set of table and chairs sat beneath it.

For some reason it reminded him of home.

Beyond the vegetable patches was grass darted with colourful displays of flowers. The edge of the property bled directly into the evergreen wood behind if from what he could tell.

His attention peaked when he noticed some movement at the back end of the garden, he squeezed his eyes in an attempt to get a better look. Ardál let out a sigh of relief as a smile lifted from the corner of his mouth for he recognised the silver white hair beaming in the sunlight. He couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but the way she moved there was no mistake.

It was her.

It was the woman with the glorious laugh, the memory warmed his heart, he had noticed her just before everything went to shit. Then he remembered his current state and cursed to himself.

As if she could sense him watching her, her eyes fell upon him through the little window and her eyes widened at the sight of him. Her brows were furrowed as she stormed back towards the cottage with fury and speed he had not anticipated.

Had he offended her somehow?

He couldn’t quite make out a reason for her strong reaction but before he could give it more thought she had entered the small room.

Shit.

She was absolutely gorgeous.

Absolute horse-shit.

This was not what he wanted for his first encounter with her.