After leaving the merchant town, Raki made fast progress for the rest of the day. He headed due north-west. The day passed uneventfully, and Raki tried to make up for his wasted morning by traveling quickly, and longer than he normally would. It was well past dusk when he was finally forced to stop and rest.

Too tied to make a fire, Raki spread his bedroll on the soft pine needles and sat down. Easing his boots off, he tossed them aside and laid down. Slowly, and somewhat painfully, Raki relaxed the tense muscles in his back. Sighing, he wrapped himself in his cloak and looked through the branches, hoping for a glimpse of the stars or moon. It was cloudy that night and he saw neither. Closing his eyes, he once more sighed and allowed himself to slowly drift off to sleep.

It wasn't long before his sleep was disturbed by a strange scuffling noise. At first he thought it was a dream and willed himself to dream about something else, but when the noise persisted, he cracked open one eye warily. Dawn was faintly approaching, so there was just enough light to make out a huddled shape pawing through his bag.

It was much too small to be a Yoma or person, so Raki figured it was some type of wild animal. With the intent of scaring it away, Raki jumped up and yelled, "Hey! Get out of here!" Suddenly and without warning, the animal leapt at Raki. Falling backward in surprise, he landed on his back. Raki instinctively tried to push the creature off of him. The dark form crouched on him, scratching at his face. A vicious set of fangs snapped dangerously close to his throat. With one arm, he kept the snarling creature on top of him at bay, and with the other, he groped blindly for his sword. Finally locating the hilt of his sword, Raki accidentally relaxed his other arm just enough to allow the jerking animal to lunge forward and sink it's fangs into his shoulder. Gritting through the unexpected pain, Raki brought the Rabona sword around, stabbing toward the animal. His sword met hot flesh, and the animal yelped; then it slumped forward, dead.

Raki's sword pierced straight through the poor beasts' stomach. Gasping, Raki wriggled out from underneath the heavy body, and scrambled to his feet. Too fast. His shoulder was bleeding profusely and he sat down again, hard, head swimming. Blood soaked his sleeve and it was still coming. Raki clamped his hand over the wound. Pulling his pack to him, Raki fumbled for his old clothes. Locating his dirty shirt, he quickly tore it into thick, messy strips using his teeth. Meanwhile, hot blood continued to escape from the wound. Sluggishly, he wound the strips around his shoulder and tightened the knots with his teeth. Gasping from the pain, he pulled them tighter and continued to apply pressure to his wound. Slowly but surely, the blood trickled to a stop, the makeshift bandage already soaked through.

Glancing around the camp, vision blurry, his eyes fell on the animal that had attacked him. The sky had continued to lighten and Raki could now see that it was a fox, glassy eyed and very dead, foam flecked the corners of its sagging mouth. Raki couldn't help but feel bad for the poor thing. Leaning against a tree, he thought, I'm wounded, but at least I'm still alive.

Dawn was fast approaching, and Raki shook himself slightly to get his blood flowing again. Shoulder throbbing, he gingerly picked up his bag and looked through it. With a sigh of relief, Raki found that the fox had not managed to locate his limited bread and cheese before Raki woke up. Grabbing a small hunk of bread for himself, he chewed it slowly and walked toward the dead fox. Turning it over with his toe, he knelt down to examine his handiwork. Finishing off the bread, Raki picked the fox up by its tail. I wonder what fox tastes like…

An hour and a half later, the fox was burning over a roaring fire on a picket similar to one he had made when first traveling with Clare. Before cooking it, Raki had been sure to skin the fox. Raki sat cross-legged with the orange pelt in his lap, doing his best to ignore his throbbing shoulder while ridding the skin of any meat. Finally setting the skin aside to check on the meat, he prodded the fox. Satisfied that it was done, he gently lifted the picket away from the fire, and set the meat aside to dry. This as good as a time as ever to test out my new knife. He picked up the bloody pelt and slowly and carefully began stripping away excess flesh from the backside of the skin.It was half-way through the morning when the meat was finally dry and stored and the flesh stripped away from the skin. By the time he was back on the road, it was much later than he had anticipated.

He was a bit unsure about the fur. He really had no idea how to preserve it, or what to do with it now he had it. But he figured, at the very least, he could sell it at the next town. All day he walked along the same road, hardly ever coming across other travelers. When night fell he made camp with a proper fire, and slept close to his sword. He woke early the next day, as always, and got started again.

Loaded down with the meat and fur, Raki felt like he was moving much slower than before. Growing frustrated, he picked up his pace only to have to stop and rest. Why am I so tired? He wondered. As the day wore on, he grew more and more exhausted. His shoulder wound pulsed, and he collapsed in the shade of a tree for the fourth time that day. Gasping for breath, he pulled his cloak off. Why am I so hot? The sun is behind clouds… Reaching up to wipe sweat away from his eyes, Raki suddenly flinched away at his own touch. Gingerly touching his face and realized why he was so hot and tired. I have a fever. And a pretty high one too. But why would I… oh no.

Raki hurriedly turned to his wounded shoulder. Quickly unwinding the blood-soaked makeshift bandages, his worst fears were realized when he caught sight of the fox bite. His entire shoulder was puffy and red and the skin around the wound was slightly yellowish. It looks like… the start of an infection. Gulping nervously, Raki grabbed his canteen and gingerly cleaned his shoulder. When all the dried blood and dirt had been washed away, he used the rest of his precious water to clean the dirty shirt-strips he had used as bandages. Watching the clean water turn brackish, Raki scowled. Stupid! He berated himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I be so careless? He bandaged his armand reluctantly started walking again. Before this gets worse I need to make it to the next town and find the local doctor or something.

The cool water had felt good on his shoulder, but the pain came back full force around noon. Gritting his teeth, Raki stopped on the side of the road and changed his bandages again. The bite was no better than it had looked in the morning. If anything, it was even more swollen and tender. He didn't have any water to wash his wounds with, so he wandered into the forest a ways, in the direction he was certain he had heard running water. It didn't take him long to find it either.

A large trickle of water flowed over a flat rock face, forming a sort of mini-waterfall. The water then trickled into a small, clear, creek bed. It was very beautiful. Kneeling on the soft ground, Raki uncapped his canteen and filled his canteen to the brim. He removed his pack and cloak and lay them down; leaning carefully over the creek, he pressed his cheek against the rock face and let the cold water flow into his mouth and splash over his fevered face. It tasted clean, and Raki speculated that it might be snow-melt from the mountains in the north. When he could drink no more and his face had cooled down some, he turned to his shoulder. Gingerly, he pulled his shirt up and over his wounded shoulder. He leaned forward once more and let the stream wash over the fox bite. His shoulder protested at the foreign touch; but soon the cold numbed the feverish wound, and he could relax a bit. He then washed his bandages before tying them back around the wound. Sticking his head under for one last sip of the cool water, he turned back to road.

For the rest of the day, Raki made good progress, even despite his arm. He didn't meet any other travelers along the way, which was surprising, since he'd seen several other travelers just yesterday. By dusk his wound had begun to throb again, even despite his constant cleaning and dressing of the wound. At nightfall, Raki gratefully stopped at a small roadside clearing for the night. He built a fire even though he wasn't cold, and sat down in front of the fire for a while, thinking.

He thought about practical things. Things such as his shoulder; he wondered what he could do better to keep the infection from getting worse. Because, so far, it didn't seem to be getting any better. He thought about how much food he had, and how long it would last. He thought about his water and canteen and cloak. He thought about the fox that attacked him, and what he should do with its fur. He thought about his sword, and his knife. He thought about pretty much everything, everything except Clare.

When he could no longer hold his thoughts back, he took out his oil and whet stones and sharpened his knife. Raki ran the stone along the sharpened edge of his knife, just like Brett had showed him. When he finished with his knife, Raki sharpened his sword, which took much longer. By the time he was done, his shoulder throbbed from the constant back and forth motion. The fire had died down, and the night sky was dark. Exhausted, Raki fell asleep as soon as he put his feverish head down.

Raki stood alone in a clearing in the woods. It was high noon, and the sun baked down onto his skin.

What am I doing here? Raki had a vague notion that he was doing something important. What was it again? A cliff sloped down to his left, and he gazed at it uncomfortably. Somehow, he recognized this place. Peering around, was just about to investigate the cliff face when he spotted a figure stepping out from the trees. Raki remembered what he had been doing.

"Clare!" He shouted. But soon stopped short. The person before him was not Clare. It was a Warrior. A warrior with no sword and no symbol around her neck. No, this was not Clare. This was a Yoma. Raki remembered everything now. This was a Yoma disguised as a warrior. It had lured him up the mountain as bait for Clare. Raki glared at the pretty-looking beast. Reaching for his sword, Raki unsheathed it and stood ready.

"Stay back, monster," He ordered.

"Now, now," the false-claymore said, "Is that anyway to speak to someone who has saved your life?"

"You didn't save my life! Clare carried me out of the desert! And you're not a warrior either! You're a Yoma!"

If the monster was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead it violently transformed from her beautiful image into the grotesque form of a Yoma. "Well!" It snarled, "I guess this saves me the trouble of lying to you boy!" It rushed towards him at incredible speed. Raki brought his sword around in slow motion by comparison, but somehow managed to get the sword into a strike when the yoma blazed towards him.

"Aaaagh!" Raki yelled, putting his full strength into the blow. He might have even hit it, but the moment his sword touched the yoma, the blade turned to mist, passing through the monsters torso without even scratching it.

"Foolish human!" the yoma snarled. In one fluid movement, the yoma was standing behind him, one long claw prepared to slash his throat.

"Come on out now!" the yoma screeched. At the command, Clare stepped from the trees.

"Clare!" Raki yelled. Clare frowned in Raki's direction, as if disappointed in something.

"You've been tracking me haven't you?!" The yoma asked.

Ignoring the imminent danger, Clare turned to Raki. "I thought you said you were going to become stronger Raki." She took a step forward.

"Don't move any closer!" the yoma screeched. "I know how fast you Claymores are! Now drop your sword!"

Clare ignored him. "Raki, I can't protect you anymore. You are going to have to learn to do that yourself. You need to wake up. Hurry, before the fever takes you." With a look around, Clare fixed her gaze on the yoma. "I'm sorry Raki. Whether or not we meet again is on you." And with that, she turned around and left.

"Ho ho." The yoma growled. "Looks like you've been abandoned human!" It dragged its claws across his throat, ripping him open.

Raki gasped, and bolted upright. He was lying on his bedroll, in the middle of a clearing, completely alone. Dying embers popped in the burned wood. Breathing heavily, he gingerly touched his throat. It was completely fine. Blinking, Raki focused on his dream before it could fade. Yes he remembered.

Raki wiped some sweat away from his brow. He was sweating profusely, and not just from his nightmare. His fever had gotten worse. A lot worse. Using the moon as a meager source of light, Raki checked his shoulder. It had swollen even more during the night. The bite itself was now about the same as an apple. Blue veins wound away from the wound, and a yellow pus oozed away from the puncture. Gulping, Raki stood up, the sudden movement sent blood away from his brain, and he swayed on his feet. I… don't have time to rest. I need to get to the next town before this gets any worse.

Raki gathered his meager belongings together and walked through the darkness to the road. Judging from the moon, Raki estimated that it was just past midnight. With a little will power and a lot of luck, he would make it to town before he passed out. As he walked, his condition only grew worse. Feverish thoughts bubbled to the surface of his mind. Staggering across the road, Raki suddenly caught himself wondering if Zaki would be too busy again yoma to play with him. Stop it! He yelled at himself. Zaki's dead! I need to hurry and get to the next village! For the next couple of miles, Raki walked purposefully, and with a clear mind. Eventually though, his exhaustion gave way to the fever.

"Hey, Clare!" He called excitedly "Do you think we'll make it to the next town soon? I'm thinking about buying some spices to make your food extra-tasty! If you can't eat a lot, then what you do eat should at least taste really good right?" Raki laughed and continued babbling, despite the lack of response. "Are we looking for a yoma Clare? Are you going to save another village?" Raki turned around, smile faltering at the empty air. "Clare?" He called out tentatively. And then louder, "Clare! Clare, where are youuuuuu! Clare!" Shrugging to himself, he said aloud: "She's probably going to the bathroom again!"

Suddenly, Raki stopped dead in the road. Drawing back his good arm, Raki slapped himself in the face. Hard. "Dammit!" he cursed "I'm losing it! God dammit I'm going crazy! Stupid fox!" Scowling angrily, he dug through his back for his canteen. For the rest of the night, every time he felt himself slipping, Raki splashed cold water on his face, and when the water ran out, he pinched himself hard on his shoulder. The pain sent him reeling, but he was able to stay somewhat clear-minded because of it. Clear-minded or not, by the time the sun peeked over the bleak horizon, Raki was nearly overcome with exhaustion. Zigzagging dangerously across the dirt road, Raki was on verge of collapse when he finally found the village. Staggering the last few hundred yards, Raki dully noted that people were already out and about. A baker prepared his wares for the day, and children walked past, carrying buckets full of water, presumably from a nearby well.

The baker, whose name was Tobias, suddenly noticed him. "Hey!" he shouted. "What are you doing standing there?" Squinting, Tobias saw Raki sway on his feet, take a shaky step forward, and then crumple to the ground, unconscious. With a shout, the baker rushed forward, not even pausing to consider the potential danger.

"Hey! Are you okay?!" The boy didn't move. The man reached Raki, panting heavily. Tobias was a large man, who rarely saw any real exercise besides walking the town, selling his bread. All the same, he kneeled down at Raki's crumpled form. Shaking him gently, the man said,

"Hey, wake up." Shifting slightly, Raki groaned, but soon stilled again. Tobias propped Raki up into a sitting position. With a start, he realized that this person was just a child. By now, a small crowd had gathered around Raki and Tobias and was muttering amongst themselves uneasily. Tobias gingerly placed a cool hand on Raki's feverish forehead.

"What's wrong with him Tobi?" a man in the crowd asked.

"I'm not quite sure, but he has quite a fever going." Tobias replied.

"Should we take him to Diana?" Someone asked.

"What if he's a yoma? We can't be certain he's not trying to trick us…"

"If he was a yoma he'd have killed us by now. And anyway, he's just a boy! We can't just leave him."

Tobias frowned and squinted at Raki's unconscious form. "I'm taking him to Diana's." He decided. "I'll take full responsibility for anything that happens."

The people around him muttered anxiously, but for the most part, they just stood back and watched. The baker, Tobias, shook Raki one more time for good measure. Raki didn't so much as stir.

"We better hurry," he said to the people around him.

With effort, Tobias swung Raki over his shoulder, and headed purposefully into town. A small crowd of watchers followed close behind, too scared to help, but not willing to be left out of anything interesting either. Within a few minutes, Tobias arrived at a large shop near the center of town. Pounding on a sturdy oak door, he called out,

"Diana! Are you in? It's an emergency!"

"Well, let me come running then!" said a sarcastic voice from the other side of the door. Moments later, it opened to reveal a pretty middle aged woman with green eyes and fading blond hair.

"This better be important. You know how much I hate getting-" she stopped short when she saw the slumped form draped over the bakers shoulder. Diana didn't miss a beat.

"Hurry. Bring him inside." She ordered. Tobias walked past her into a very orderly living room, leaving a curious crowd of people outside.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked, quickly clearing a place on the kitchen table to lay the young boy.

"I'm not sure." Tobias panted. "He just collapsed outside of town. He has a pretty high fever though."

"Hmm. Lay him here." She gestured to the table and washed her hands in a large water basin. "Take off his cloak and bag."

"Whoa!" Tobias said.

"What?!" Diana spun around.

"This kids got a sword!" Tobias said, holding it up. "And it's a pretty good one too!"

"Put that down!" Diana hissed "Stay focused! This boy needs our help!" Sheepishly, Tobias put the sword with Raki's cloak and bag.

Moving forward, Diana rolled Raki onto his back and felt his forehead. "You're right. This is a pretty high fever." Grabbing a limp wrist Diana checked his pulse and nodded slowly to herself. "His pulse is strong, but his breath is shallow."

Glancing at the baker, she ordered: "soak some of those rags in the basin and put them on his forehead."

"O-okay."

Diana began a systematic probing of Raki and soon found his shoulder. Tobias came back with the cool rags and Diana placed them on his forehead. She rolled up Raki's sleeve and scowled at the makeshift bandages.

"Hand me a knife." She said, gesturing to her kitchen.

Quickly, Tobias fetched it.

Once she had it, Diana carefully cut away the bandages. "I knew it." She hissed. "He has an infection."

"An infection?"

"Yes." Diana probed the swollen wound, eliciting a small steam of yellow pus. Beside her, Tobias struggled to keep down his breakfast.

"All right." She straitened and walked to her kitchen. "Tobias I'm going to need your help." She stuck her knife into a small fire burning in the fireplace.

"What are you doing?" Tobias asked curiously. He was loathe to admit it, but he was out of his comfort zone here. Appreciating, not for the first time that his line of work was so simple.

She didn't answer for a moment, instead carrying the hot blade to the water basin. She dipped it in in the cool water, and a small bit of steam rose up from the bowl. Finally, she said:

"I'm sanitizing the knife." Looking him in the eyes, she said, "We have to re-open the wound to let the pus drain."

"Umm…"

"I'm going to be honest to you Tobias." She said, continuing on, "This isn't going to be pretty. I've done this only once before with such an advanced infection, and three men had to hold him down. Granted, he was a lot bigger than this boy, and completely conscious; but I imagine I'm going to need you just the same."

"You want me to hold him down."

"Yes."

Moving slowly, Diana began to lower the knife but stopped. "Tobias. Go outside and warn the townspeople that there is going to be screaming and to not panic. Hurry back." Quickly, he did so.

"All right." She said, once he had returned. "Hold his arms and legs down, yes just like that. Are you ready?" He nodded. "Then here we go." With incredible dexterity, Diana made the first several cuts before Raki even registered the pain. Once he did however, it was 10 times worse than anything else he had ever experienced. The blade cut hot through tender and swollen skin, both burning and cutting the infected area. The teeth of the knife caught on half-dead flesh and ripped it away from its living counterparts. A mixture of pus and fresh blood escaped from the incision, gushing painfully.

"Aaaauuugh!" Raki thrashed wildly away from the knife.

"Hold him down!" Diana yelled. Tobias quickly grabbed the flailing boy and gripped his arms tightly. Diana set to work again, methodically washing away blood and pus before slicing away at the infected areas.

To Raki, it felt like someone was rubbing a pumice rock into his wound before sawing his flesh away with a bread knife.

After the initial scream, Diana was surprised to find that the boy didn't utter a single sound. This was because Raki had regained consciousness. The pain of the first incision that sparked the scream had had also cut through his fevered dreams and exhaustion. At first he had been confused, but quickly realized that he was being helped. So with every ounce of his willpower, and there was plenty, he focused on keeping his body still and breathing through his nose. It felt like hours, but soon Diana was done. She washed his wound with a pungent stinging liquid and ordered Tobias to let Raki go.

Slowly, Raki cracked open his eyes. A middle-aged woman and man were standing over him. The woman was carefully tending to his throbbing shoulder. He gingerly turned his head to look at her. As he watched, she dipped the tips of her fingers into a jar, and spread a cool salve across the wound. Almost immediately, the pain began to numb into a dull throb. Trusting himself to speak, Raki managed to croak, "Thank you."

Startled, the woman looked up to meet her patient's eyes. For a moment, she didn't breathe. His eyes were dry, but so sad. He had some of the saddest eyes she had ever seen. This boy, she knew, had known pain. His eyes were sad, but in no way were they self-pitying. In fact, it was easy to see that he had an unmovable determination. My god, she thought, had he been during the conscious during the surgery? Diana shook her head. That was impossible. No sane person could stay awake during something like that. Still, she wondered.

"Aaah- You're welcome." She said. Exhausted, Raki just smiled and laid his head against the table, falling asleep immediately. A bit uneasily, Diana finished bandaging his wound. "Tobias," she said. "You may go now if you wish. I can take care of everything else."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Well alright then." He started to leave, but paused at the door. "I'll bring you and the boy some breakfast soon. From the bakery."

"Thank you Tobias."

"It's nothing." He said, and then left.

Sighing, Diana set to cleaning up the mess.