A/N: I don't care about this nearly as much as Consuming Desert. You'll get the odd scene here and there when I feel like it. Want to finish up my baby before I put a lot of effort into something new.
On trigger warnings: I wish to accommodate any readers who suffer from PTSD without spoiling any dramatic tension for those who don't. Thus, any trigger warnings that may or may not appear in this story will occur at the bottom of the chapter. Yell at me if I miss something important.
Scene i
Marin skipped down to the beach, her bare feet squelching in the fresh mud. The air was brisk and fresh in the storm's aftermath. Water droplets beaded on the scraggly vegetation that managed to survive in the poor soil. She'd watched the entire show of flickering lightning from her open window. But the best part came after. The best part was looking for any loot that might've washed up on the beach.
When the signpost marking the official edge of Toronbo Shores came into view, she broke into a full sprint. Once on the beach, she dug in her heels and skidded to a rough halt.
Somebody was on the shore. That was odd. She knew everyone on the island, but none of them had a green getup like that. And there was also that battered shield on the man's back. It was covered in scrapes and gouges, like he'd actually used it!
She ought to go tell Tarin, but she found herself moving closer. The poor fellow had a gash on his brow. Somebody had to see to that. And, as no one else was around, that made it her responsibility.
"You'd better have a good story to tell in exchange for this, mister," she said, squatting down to grasp him under the armpits. He was smaller than most of the men on the island, but he sure was dense.
"C'mon, Marin, lift with your legs. That's what you've got 'em for," she muttered to herself as she heaved him onto his heels. She craned her neck around to see behind her and began to drag.
The man stank like rotted fish, and she was sure that at least some of the damp on his tunic came from sweat, not sea. She thought that would be the worst of it, but then his boots went and caught on every rock and stick buried under the sand.
That wouldn't work. She let him drop, then remembered his head at the last minute and caught it before it hit the ground. Then, she burrowed her shoulders under his torso. She grabbed an arm and a leg to stabilize him, then stood up, letting her frame take all his weight.
It still sucked, but she could move better. Which was good, because she had to climb a hill to get home.
"Ain't this backwards from how it's supposed to be?" she grumbled, beginning the trudge.
On the way back, she saw strange tracks in the mud. Looked like some sharp claws digging into the ground, but then a smooth mush in the middle where the whatever-it-was dragged its body. Or something. "Well, I'll just have to get to know you later," she said to the whatever-it-was.
Mabe village was right on top of the long slope going down to the sea. Specifically, it was right on top of the steepest part of the slope. By the time Marin had struggled up it, she figured she was soaked enough she may as well have just been out in the storm in the first place.
"Tarin," she sang, with just a hint of vibrato. "I hope you're ready for company."
The farmer's head rose into view above the garden fence. The top of his head was balding, but the front of it had a brown mustache that seemed to grow thicker by the week.
"Company? Marin, you know- What in tarnation?" He reeled backward as she carried the injured boy across the threshold.
"It's just scratch or two. Fetch me a washcloth?
"Er…"
"Oh, honestly Tarin, ya'd think you were the one all beat up." She dumped the boy on her bed and rolled her shoulders, free of the weight. "The washcloth, Tarin."
"Oh, uh yeah!"
He handed it over, and she began wiping off the dried blood. "Reckon he'll need a stitch or two," she muttered. "How silly do you have to be to stay out in that?"
The boy turned in his sleep. Marin gently held his arm in place as she continued to clean. He moaned faintly through half-opened lips.
"Why yes, I expect that does sting a bit," she told him. "Hang in there, bucko. You look like the kinda fellow who's used to this thing. Tarin, prop that door open. We need some air in here."
