New chapter. Excellent…
Disclaimer: Cake, anyone?
Onwards, my children.
-
Previously…
A sheathed broadsword was, for some unfathomable reason, as it seemed to be of incredibly fine make, left carelessly on the ground amidst a few bushes and rocks. Frowning, Cora walked to where it lay glinting and kneeled to acquire a closer view at the magnificent object. Her hand reached out to grab the blade and examine the heavy instrument of death, when, out of seemingly nowhere, a wickedly sharp dagger was whipped to the side of her throat and a ridiculously calm, undeniably masculine voice asked in a silky murmur,
"Well, what do we have here?"
-
Cora breath hitched in her throat at the touch of the knife, and her heart began to beat furiously as she heard her unknown assailant chuckle in an amused fashion.
The healer's breathing became a series of short gasps as a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows beside her and move to stand in front of her frozen form, dagger still held threateningly at her vulnerable neck.
She knew he was running his eyes about her, checking for any pointed objects, trying to determine whether or not she was a potential threat to his health, and Cora used this silent time to seize up her 'attacker'. Well, not that he had caused her any harm.
Yet.
Under the brown cloak, or at least, it looked to be brown, Cora could discern the shape of a straight nose above a sensual mouth and a chin that was dusted with a week's worth of stubble. He was tall, she saw now that he had moved into the slight moonlight, and his bulk looked to be capable.
The gut-wrenching fear that had been building up to tremendous heights inside of her increased.
Tenfold.
As she completed this thought, the cloaked man crouched and snatched up the sword, never removing his eyes from her face. He smoothly slid it into his belt with a brief scraping noise before what was visible of his mouth curved into a smile that was both entertained and suspicious. Somehow.
Not daring to move and keeping her gaze planted firmly onto the dagger that was aimed at her throat, Cora stood silently and waited for him, whoever he was, to act.
'He' continued to smile irritatingly before he asked, ridiculously casually, "Might I inquire as to what you intended to achieve by thieving my blade, madam?"
She swallowed, struggling to form coherent words. "I-I was only curious t-to see who it might have belonged to…sir. I thought perhaps i-it may have been unintentionally left behind. Though I assure you, I had no desire t- t-to steal it!" she stammered shamefully, cursing herself a thousand times over as she felt herself flush a bright red and heard him begin to laugh.
His laugh held a deep, resounding, and undeniably smug note, as though its keeper was definitely aware of the effect he had on others. The effect that left them flushed and stammering with embarrassment.
Amazingly, and still laughing, he set the dagger away from her throat and sheathed it, leaving her weak at the knees with pure, unadulterated relief.
Again.
"I now see that this is no more than a misunderstanding. I apologise if I frightened you, mistress, but I thought perhaps you were a thief who saw to rob me of my few possessions," he said, stepping further away from her.
Cora lifted a hand and clasped her neck, eyes closing momentarily as she realized that she was not maimed in any way.
"A misunderstanding…" she repeated in a small voice, eyes opening.
He did not form an answer to this, merely tilted his head back and studied her as she kept her eyes lowered in an attempt to calm her nerves.
A moment of silence stretched out between the two, before the cloaked man suddenly pulled back his hood and stretched out his hand to her in a gesture of greeting.
"I am Ianthus," he said, flashing a small smile and revealing even, white teeth.
"Cora," she supplied, voice somewhat hoarse, reaching out to shake his hand. Cora discovered that it was rough, calloused; like that belonging to an experienced soldier. She also found that Ianthus was not at all lacking in looks. He was tall, with blonde hair that shone silver in the dim light, and attractive dark blue eyes that crinkled pleasantly at the edges when he smiled.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Cora," he said, releasing her hand.
She cleared her throat. "Likewise…Ianthus," Cora answered, unsure whether or not to put his name to use.
Ianthus continued to scrutinize her, and she was beginning to find it somewhat annoying.
Peeved, for he had frightened her and she was naturally impatient, Cora asked, in her straight forward fashion, "Have you nothing better to do to waste to your than simply stand there and stubbornly bore holes into my head…sir?"
He lifted an elegant eyebrow at this, impressed by her frankness; it was not a trait commonly found in most women. But, then again, this Cora did not seem to be an ordinary woman. Any other male would have backhanded her in response to her impertinence in making such a statement, but Ianthus chose to merely chuckle.
"Madam, I assure you, boring holes into your head is the last thing I would wish to put you through. However, I was wondering whether or not I could trouble you for your assistance in helping me locate a healer," Ianthus said, cleverly diverting her attention from her indignation at finding him assessing her.
The irritated creases around Cora's mouth were smoothed out as her forehead formed a frown. "I am a healer. What is troubling you, lad?" she said, tossing her earlier 'sir' to the wind. Ianthus looked to be at least several years younger than she.
Ianthus peeled away the bark brown material of the cloak to bare his arm. Cora's frown deepened at what she saw. Some incident, perhaps a duel, had torn a long gash into the flesh of the young man's upper right arm. It had clearly received poor treatment, for despite the wound having been carelessly stitched, the skin surrounding the cut was red, swollen and oozing a sticky liquid, and the coarse thread which criss-crossed over the injury was digging rather painfully into his arm.
She carefully prodded the skin encircling the wound and heard Ianthus' sharp intake of breath.
Cora looked up into his face, not being able to comprehend the reason as to why he had permitted this easily treatable wound to become so horridly infected, and demanded in an incredulous voice, "How on earth did this happen!"
"Hunting mishap," he replied shortly.
She did not even have the decency to pretend that she believed his lie. "My arse. This wound is from no wild animal, Ianthus. The cut is much too precise to be the work of a beast; It is from either a blade or an arrow. Now please, verify."
Once again, Ianthus found his eyebrows shooting towards his hairline at her crude language. Nevertheless, with a grin that was suspiciously unlaced with pain due to the tear in his flesh, Ianthus settled for saying, in a neutral tone, "I was sparring with my brother, whom, despite his rather slight weight, is far too accurate with a sword for it to be deemed natural. I am certain that you can guess at the rest, Cora."
She nodded. "Indeed I can." With a final press of her long fingers against his muscled arm, the healer recovered his wound with the cloak and moved to stand directly in front of Ianthus, her earlier fear of him diminished.
"Your arm is badly infected, my lad. Though the stitching had aided in stemming blood loss, the thread is now embedded into the skin of your arm and causing far more harm than good. It will need to be removed," she spoke firmly, annoyed at the young man's carelessness.
"How do you propose we accomplish that?" He asked, no sarcasm tingeing his tone.
"You will need to return to my hut with me, Ianthus. There I will take care of the stitches and give to you a poultice that will serve as an antiseptic agent and help the torn flesh and skin knit back together."
Ianthus seemed unsure. "I do not wish to force hardship upon you, Cora. I could eas-"
"Nonsense!" She cut off his words. "I am a healer. It is my duty to aid those in need, and at this moment, your arm is all but crying out will need for treatment. Why did you not seek a healer earlier?"
"I suppose I thought that it would heal sooner or later. Paying a visit to the Athenian healers is not my idea of the perfect spending of my time," he said dryly.
"That was utterly foolish of you. Had you left-You are from Athens?" Cora asked the question before she had even completed the former sentence.
"I am. Athens has been my home for a very long time," Ianthus said, finding her quick change from scolding him to asking him the question quite funny.
"How I envy you. I left Athens when I was but a young girl," Cora added, sighing. "How did you come to be here, Ianthus?"
"It has always been a dream of mine to travel. And, here I am…," he answered.
"You are indeed lucky to be given such an opportunity. However, returning to the topic of your wounded arm, I would not say that you are lucky at all. Now, let us leave, as it is becoming quite cold, and I need to have a closer look at the slash," Cora stated, turning to walk away and expecting Ianthus to walk away with her.
He did not move.
Irritated, Cora whirled back around and strode her way back to stand in front of the tall man. "Are you not coming?"
"I do not believe that it would be proper, madam," he said.
Cora stared. "Ianthus. You are injured. And I am sure Anassa would not mind if we had a visitor as she is unconscious."
"Anassa?"
"My other patient," she said to him, once more turning to walk away. "Are you coming or not? It will not be my fault if you lose use of your arm if you do not," she called.
He sighed. "Give me a moment to fetch my pack," he said, growing weary of a woman he had only known for the span of a quarter-hour.
"Excellent. I shall be waiting here," Cora said, somewhat triumphantly.