A/N - Thank you for the follows turquoisesunset and Juliet1996! And for the reviews padfootl0ve and GuestM - you have no idea how happy they made me! :)
And to answer both of you - I know I was mean in no8 (don't say goodbye) - sorry! It was mostly for dramatic effect. But thanks to your comment about follow ons, GuestM, my muse is now thinking of a follow on for that one where Arthur calms down a bit and then Gaius (and the knights and probably Gwen) all yell at him until he apologises and lets Merlin out! I'll try to write that if people are interested...
Anyway, on with the show! This one jumps around a little between present and past, hopefully it isn't too confusing...
No. 10 – Blood loss / Trail of blood
"Do try and keep up, Merlin!" Arthur barked over his shoulder.
"It would be easier if I wasn't carrying all this stuff!" came the disgruntled shout from several yards behind Arthur.
"I'm a prince, I can hardly be expected to carry all the bags, now can I?" Arthur laughed, swinging his sword at a trailing bramble vine that was hanging into the pathway.
"You could at least carry one," Merlin grumbled. "I'm not a bloody pack horse-"
There was a yelp, the crash of breaking undergrowth and a thud.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder. Merlin was sprawled half off the path, the packs strewn into the bracken and the bramble Arthur had cut down snagged on his breeches and twisted around his foot.
Arthur huffed a disgusted sigh, rolled his eyes and muttered "useless!" before trudging onwards. He could hear Merlin swearing and scrabbling about in the undergrowth but he ignored him and carried on along the path.
"Arthur?" Merlin had gone still, his crashing about silent. "Arthur, come and look at this."
"Found a pretty flower?" Arthur teased, turning around to see Merlin intently studying something on the forest floor
"Not a flower. Not pretty," Merlin answered, his voice wary. He looked up at Arthur, frowning.
The tone of Merlin's voice put Arthur on edge. He adjusted his grip on his sword, bringing the blade up slightly into more of a ready position. He scanned the trees but nothing seemed amiss. He walked back over to Merlin.
On the ground just beside where Merlin had fallen was a pool of drying blood.
Arthur dropped to a crouch, pushing Merlin aside so he could better study it. There was a splatter across the roots and ferns, which were flattened and trampled, then the pool in an indent in the underbrush. The ground was so dry from the lack of recent rainfall that the blood hadn't even seeped into the solid mud.
They've left him for dead. The cut in his side is bleeding profusely, staining the ground beneath him dark red. He puts a hand to his side, feeling along the edges of his ripped tunic to the wound. It isn't deep, but deep enough that the blood is seeping in a steady stream down his hip. He presses his hand down on the cut, hissing with pain.
"Looks fairly recent," Arthur commented, lightly touching his gloved fingers to the blood, it was still slightly wet, but was beginning to turn brown. He stood quickly, peering around at the forest floor. He spotted another smear a few feet away. "They can't have got far."
He started towards the other smear, it looked like the injured person had dragged themselves along the floor to a fallen tree. A dark reddish brown handprint was pressed into the rough bark of the tree and footprints mussed the ground. One footprint had blood printed into the tread.
Rolling onto his good side, he crawls across the uneven ground to a fallen tree, resting against it as he pants, his teeth gritted, his side throbbing. He has to get out of the forest, find someone. He pushes himself up, stumbling on shaky legs, but manages to stay upright.
"Merlin, quick, this way."
Merlin didn't complain this time as he scooped up their bags and slung them over his shoulders. Arthur stopped to take one, throwing it on his own back. He needed Merlin to keep up.
The trail of blood was still heavy, large splashes dotting the floor every couple of inches.
"They've lost a lot of blood," Merlin said quietly. He pointed out a shrub, its leaves slick with blood as if the person had brushed past it.
A few staggered steps get him a little closer to where he is sure the path is. Everything is spinning, the world tilts slightly as if he is drunk, which for once he isn't. It is making it hard to determine if he is going in the right direction. He should probably try to stop the bleeding. He pushes through a shrub to a tree and leans against it.
Arthur clenched his jaw. Merlin was right, the likelihood of them finding this person still alive was minimal. Arthur had seen a number of tournament injuries and battlefield wounds. There was only so much blood a body could lose before even Gaius couldn't save them.
He pressed onwards, determined as ever to find them.
"Merlin, here look!"
A scrap of red-spattered grey caught his eye, snagged on a knot on the side of a tree. He reached to grab it, unhooking it from the rough bloodstained bark. It was a fragment of fabric, the edges torn and fraying, soaked with blood.
"They've bound the wound," Merlin said, his voice rising hopefully. That gave them a better chance at least.
His tunic is ruined anyway. He reaches to yank it over his head, letting out a ragged yell as the wound is pulled as he lifts his arms. A fresh gush of blood slides hot down his hip, dripping onto the ferns at his feet. He wraps the tunic around his waist, tying the sleeves together as tight as he can manage.
They carried on through the trees; every now and then a drip of blood touched the edge of a leaf or a root. A red handprint smeared across a tree trunk. Arthur was reading the forest floor, seeing the broken branches, the squashed plants. A blood coated footprint.
"They've got strength," Merlin said as Arthur pointed out another bloody mark on a tree. "To keep going this long…" He sighed. "Where do you think they're trying to get to?"
"People?" Arthur guessed. He spotted a couple of snagged hairs on a low hanging branch.
He is still shaky, but now the blood flow has mostly stopped, he finds he has a little more strength to walk. His progress is slow but steady. He isn't sure how long he manages to stumble along but he still hasn't found the path. His head is hurting; he smacked his forehead against a branch that seemed to loom up in front of him without him noticing. Darkness is encroaching on the edges of his vision. He trips on a loose root, pitching forwards. Catching himself on a tree he slides down, letting his knees give out. He'll just rest for a minute…
"There!"
Arthur caught sight of pale flesh amongst the green and brown of the undergrowth. They both ran forwards.
The man was slumped, half sitting, half lying, against a tree. His torso was covered in blood and wrapped in a knotted grey tunic. He had long dark hair, matted with sweat and sticking to his forehead and cheeks which were too pale.
Merlin let the bags he was carrying fall to the floor before he stepped forwards and dropped to his knees at the man's side, his hands hovering over him.
Arthur quickly scanned the area, making sure they had not been followed and nobody else had tracked the injured man. The reassuring whistle of birdsong indicated no one was hiding nearby. He kept his sword out though, standing just behind Merlin.
"He's alive!" Merlin crowed, his fingers pressed into the man's neck.
"You're sure?" Arthur asked, incredulously, he definitely hadn't been expecting that.
"Definitely, strong pulse. He's a fighter."
The man stirred, opening his eyes blearily, frowning as he tried to focus on Merlin's face hovering above him.
"An angel?" he muttered with a small smile.
Arthur let out a bark of relieved laughter.
"Sorry, no," he told the man, clapping Merlin on the shoulder. "Just Merlin, servant not angel."
"Servant and physician's apprentice," Merlin said, prodding gently at the blood soaked tunic over the wound. "I can help you." The man groaned, his body reflexively curling up against Merlin's ministrations.
Arthur watched as Merlin carefully untied the cloth, peeling it away from a sizable slash all the way down his left side. He reached back and pulled a waterskin from the bundle of packs he'd been carrying and tipped it over the wound, rinsing out grit and dirt. The man groaned, his eyes rolling back.
"Damn, I need some –" Merlin's eyes darted around the forest floor, lighting on a plant a few feet away. "There, Arthur, get me that wild garlic, that plant, there."
Arthur hurried to the little plant Merlin had indicated. He knew it; Gaius had taught him when he was much younger about the cleaning properties of garlic in a wound. It had saved him and his knights many times on patrols. He ripped it from the ground, dashing back over and thrusting it into Merlin's hands.
"Give him a drink," Merlin said as he started preparing the garlic.
Arthur crouched beside Merlin, bringing the waterskin up to the man's lips. He seemed woozy, not quite conscious, but as the water touched his lips he fought to focus on Arthur's hand holding the waterskin. He gulped greedily, some of water running down his stubbled chin.
"Easy, friend," Merlin said calmly, placing a hand on his chest.
"I'm Arthur, this is Merlin," Arthur said, for lack of anything else to say while Merlin worked on the wound.
"Gwaine–" he said through gritted teeth before crying out and arching away as Merlin pressed the wild garlic into his side. His hands balled into fists against the ground, crushing twigs and leaves. He whimpered.
"Sorry." Merlin bit his lip and glanced back at Arthur. "Can I have your cloak?"
Arthur nodded, rummaging in the packs for the bundled up red cloak. He heard Merlin muttering something while his back was turned but he didn't catch the words.
"Pretty angel eyes," Gwaine mumbled, reaching a hand to Merlin's face, his fingers lightly brushing his cheek, leaving a trail of blood on his pale skin. "Shiny, gold."
"Oh great, he's delirious with blood loss." Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin's face had flushed bright red and he pulled his hand away from Gwaine's chest. He looked over his shoulder guiltily at Arthur who smirked at him. Gwaine lolled back against the tree with another groan and Merlin snapped his fingers at Arthur.
"Cloak." Arthur handed the cloak to Merlin, who stretched it out between his hands then held it up to Arthur. "Cut."
"What?" Arthur spluttered.
"I need clean bandages. This is the best we have. Cut, please, my lord," he added sarcastically.
Grumbling, Arthur swung his sword down through the cloak, shearing a thin strip off the hem. Merlin held it up again and Arthur cut another strip. Merlin wadded one strip and pressed it against the gash in Gwaine's side, then tied the second around his torso to hold it in place.
"That's all I can do until I get him to Gaius."
"We're taking him back with us?"
"Of course we are. You didn't track the trail of blood all the way to him, just to leave him here to die."
Arthur hadn't really given it much thought beyond finding the person who was bleeding everywhere. He had truly believed to find them dead anyway.
"Alright," he agreed, nodding at Merlin and standing up, brushing his hands off on his breeches. "Let's build a litter to carry him."
They quickly bundled together some branches, using what was left of Arthur's cloak, to make a simple litter to hold Gwaine. Merlin, of course, ended up being the one to drag it, as they set off back towards Camelot.
A/N - Another appearance of oblivious Arthur! Why is it that whenever I want to write Merlin doing magic, I just happen to be in Arthur's POV!