And we're finally back with another chapter! I'm currently working on getting this fic updated as quickly as possible, as well as updating Knight of Rot & Ruin. I also need to finish posting two of my other fics, and after that, I have a few other things I need to work on.
I hope you guys enjoy the fics as they come out! I'm working hard to update them as often as possible. Y'all have been sticking with me through a lot of stuff, and I appreciate the hell of your support. Thanks for being amazing, and I can't wait to write more of these fics!
Stay awesome!
CHAPTER SIX
Shion closed the door behind him, shutting out the winter storm. His cabin was a portal to another world, in a sense; as soon as the heavy wooden door clicked shut, all the cold wind and frost vanished into a thing of distant memory. The smooth floorboards beneath Shion's bare feet radiated with comfortable warmth, as if they'd been baking in the spring sunlight all day.
Shion exhaled with relief as the heat worked its way through his icy toes. He shifted the balls of his feet against the solid wood, careful not to stomp on the little flower bulbs pushing up from between the boards. A small puddle formed on the wood where he was standing as the snow melted off his skin. He didn't worry—there were bigger things to focus on now.
He lifted his head and peered into the heart of his cabin. Now that he'd jolted out of a dead sleep, the flower charms radiated with all the warmth and light of a calm morning. Shion could see the hearth neatly tucked in the far corner, the coals still smoldering from his dinner that evening. The soup cauldron, scrubbed clean and set gently off to the side, sat like a massive black stone.
And in the center of it all stood Nezumi.
He loomed like a solid strip of shadow, his heavy hood concealing his face. He'd tramped through Shion's cabin, his heavy boots leaving a trail of snow and dirt in the center of the floor. It wouldn't take much to clean—a simple brush of a broom and Shion could sweep away the remnants of the icy storm outside—but there was something so strange about him standing there in the heart of Shion's world, rooted in place like a tree that had sprung up straight out of the ground and spread its branches throughout the cabin.
Shion shrugged his cloak off his shoulders and hung it gently on the hook beside the door. He had no intentions to head back into the storm this evening. He hadn't been planning to venture out into it at all when he'd fallen asleep that evening, but Nezumi's muted, pained hiss had somehow reached into his subconscious and pulled him into the waking world.
Nezumi glanced around the cabin, and Shion could practically feel the unease rolling off him. He scanned the walls and glowing flowers as if searching for snares that weren't present, and Shion tried not to be offended.
His hands were sticky with blood. Shion flexed his fingers, feeling it cooling against his skin, in the creases of his fingers and palms.
He swallowed a wave of fear and went to the pail of water sitting by the door. He'd been waiting for a warmer day to dump it outside, as doing so now would guarantee that it would freeze and cause a slipping hazard for him the next time he ventured outside. Shion was suddenly grateful for it as he dunked his hands inside and rubbed them together. He had no soap readily available near the bucket, but scrubbing his knuckles and palms got the still-damp blood off his skin.
Shion flicked the water off his hands and patted them dry against his trousers. The water inside the bucket was not clean, and he couldn't use it to wash Nezumi's wound, but he'd take care of that soon enough.
He turned to look at Nezumi, and then took a careful step forward. Nezumi's eyes immediately darted to him. Shion resisted the urge to freeze beneath his piercing gaze and continued to move forward. It wouldn't do him any good if Nezumi began to suspect him of wrongdoing.
He crossed carefully to his cot and drew back the blanket. The mattress was still warm from his body, and Shion willed a little bit of magic from the flowers surrounding him into keeping it comfortable. A few bound bushels of lavender flowers sat beneath his mattress to keep the room smelling nice, to lull him into a peaceful rest. Shion murmured to them and drifted his fingers through the air, pulling the natural lavender scents and weaving them into the fabric covering his cot and the pillows. If he was going to do this, then he wanted Nezumi to be comfortable.
Nezumi watched him without a word. He shifted, and his weight pressed against a loose section of the floorboards. The wood creaked beneath his boots, and both he and Shion flinched at the sound.
Shion exhaled softly. It was too silent. He'd grown accustomed to the silence of his cabin when it was just him present within it, but with a guest? Shion was painfully aware of Nezumi looming in the darkness, hovering just beyond his shoulder. How severe were his wounds? He'd seemed in a decent amount of pain, and the blood that'd stained Shion's hands seemed a decent indicator that the wound was far from simple.
Shion patted the mattress and turned to Nezumi. "Here. Lay down, and I'll take a look at your shoulder."
Nezumi narrowed his eyes at him. He shifted his wounded shoulder away from Shion, and it was all Shion could do not to roll his eyes.
"If I was going to hurt you," he said softly, "I would have done it already. I'm not going to hurt you, Nezumi. I just want to help bind your wound. You're bleeding."
A muscle in Nezumi's jaw twitched. "I'm aware."
Shion thumped his hand on the mattress again. "Then lay down."
Nezumi stared at him again, but all the fire seemed to have left him. The tension in his spine dissipated as he slowly crossed the cabin. The edges of his cloak brushed the ground, dusting over the buds of the flowers peeking through the floorboards. Shion noticed that, even wounded, Nezumi made a special effort not to trounce on them.
He reached up with one hand as he approached the cot, grasping for the clasp keeping his cloak pinned together. He couldn't seem to get a decent grip on it; a look of frustration crossed his face, and he tried to unhook it again.
Shion reached a hand up and said, "It's fine, I'll do it."
Nezumi gave him a wary look, but if he'd come up with an argument, he didn't voice it. He eased himself down on the cot.
Even sitting, Nezumi seemed on edge. His silver eyes clicked to Shion's hands, which were resting on the mattress and willing warmth into them. Shion straightened his fingers and made certain he kept them in Nezumi's line of sight at all times.
Nezumi gave Shion a brief look, and Shion took his silence as assurance that it was acceptable to help him remove his cloak. He took hold of the clasp and gently undid it. The fabric felt silky and cool beneath his palms. As he guided the cloak gently down Nezumi's shoulders, paying special attention to the wound, Shion noticed runes etched along the lining of the black fabric.
He recognized several of them—warmth, silence, stealth—but there were others he couldn't identify. He understood the language of spellwriting, but these spells were well beyond his knowledge. A flare of jealousy shot through him like a bolt of lightning, but Shion shoved it aside. He had other needs to focus on at this time. Comprehending magical script could come later, when Nezumi was no longer spilling blood.
Shion looked at the cloak, inspecting it for damage. The shoulder was, as expected, sliced and damp with blood that Shion couldn't see against the dark fabric. He rose to his feet, folding it over his arm, and brought it to the hook near his door.
He hung it up, smoothing out the wrinkles. He could focus on cleaning out the blood and repairing the torn fabric once Nezumi was out of harm's way. The runes woven into the fabric would be difficult to work around. Shion might need to have Nezumi translate them to assure him washing it in purified water would be strong enough to take the blood out of it.
Shion turned back to the mattress and took a good look at Nezumi. The clothing he wore beneath the cloak were also the same shadowy shade, but plain enough. A simplistic tunic and a pair of trousers tucked into a heavy pair of boots. The left shoulder of his tunic was shredded, and Shion winced.
Even from a distance, Shion could see the thick patch of blood around the slices in Nezumi's skin. What had happened? His stomach dropped as he crossed the room and crouched down in front of the mattress.
"I'm going to look at your shoulder now. Is that all right?"
Nezumi watched him, but didn't say a word.
Shion nodded, once, and eased up to look at Nezumi's shoulder.
At first glance, it seemed much worse than it truly was. Blood had spread across the ruined fabric of Nezumi's tunic, but peering through it, Shion could see the slice itself. It didn't look too long—about the length of Shion's index finger—but it did seem deep. The blood welling up from it was dark, and Shion prayed it wasn't too late to stave off an infection.
"I'll need to clean it," Shion murmured. Speaking any louder seemed wrong; the air within the cabin had settled into a calm silence, warmth radiating from the flower charms.
Nezumi looked over his shoulder, at the wall, at the covered windows—anything to avoid having to look Shion in the eye. "Just do what you need."
Shion nodded and rose slowly to his feet. The wound didn't seem to be bleeding too heavily, which was a decent sign. Preparing some clean water and gathering his equipment wouldn't put Nezumi in too much jeopardy.
He busied himself with gathering some fresh snow from just outside the door. The storm continued to rage beyond the protective walls of the cabin. Shion shivered as he opened the door, used a stone bowl to gather a bit of crisp snow, and then shut out the cold a second time.
He brought the snow to his clean cauldron and dumped it inside. With a little magic, the fire had been lit, and the snow melted without incident. Shion used his ladle to scoop some of it out, setting it off to the side to let it cool from boiling to comfortably warm. He gathered a set of needles, which he sterilized by sticking the tips into the fire, and a spool of thin thread he believed would be safe enough to stitch Nezumi's wound closed.
Once Shion had his materials together, he collected a clean cloth from his pile and hurried back over to the bed.
Somehow, Nezumi had managed to get his boots off and set them neatly beside the bed. He looked up at Shion approached, and even at rest, Nezumi looked wary. Shion didn't doubt that Nezumi could spring off the mattress and disappear out the door in an instant if the need arose. Shion had no real comprehension of the Mao and what they were capable of; their ties to magic were obvious, given Nezumi's attire and mysterious appearance, but Shion didn't have any other information to go on at the moment.
Shion dipped the cloth into the water—it had cooled to a gentle warmth—and pressed the cloth to the wound.
Nezumi sucked in a sharp hiss, and Shion murmured an apology. He cleaned the wound quickly, but gently. As the blood was wiped away, Shion could see it for what it was. Deep indeed, but nothing Shion couldn't repair.
He became aware of Nezumi's quicksilver eyes watching his every movement. Shion tried to focus on his work; he knew that, if he were to stray and catch Nezumi's eye, he'd get caught in them and never be able to find his way out.
As soon as the wound was washed, Shion set the soiled cloth down on the ground. He gingerly plucked the needle from the pile and threaded it. Nezumi shifted, leaning back just enough to put a bit of distance between them. Shion's heart ached for him. He understood the concern that must have come from seeing a stranger with a needle, but he forced himself to remain calm and in-control. There was no point in making Nezumi even more nervous.
Once he'd prepared the needle and the thread, Shion turned to Nezumi and smiled at him. "I'm going to stitch your wound now. I promise it's not going to hurt."
Nezumi stared down at him. Distrust flashed briefly across his face. He looked at the tip of the needle, the thread, and then at Shion's expression.
"You're... a healer?" he asked softly.
"N-not so much." Shion gave him a crooked smile. "I only understand healing magic as a concept, but I've never had to perform it. The... villagers wouldn't trust me, if I did."
Nezumi's eyes flashed.
"But, I know how to do it! I've been stitching my own clothing for years, and as a concept, it's not all that different. I've even perfected the ability to numb aches and pains, so you won't feel a thing!"
Shion had been soothing his own headaches and muscle aches since he'd learned how to pull the energy from arnica and primrose plants. He'd used them on his own mother when the long days at the bakery made her drop into bed with a miserable groan, and though it had been several years since Shion had practiced on another human being, he felt confident in his abilities.
Nezumi huffed through his nose, but he shifted back toward Shion. "All right. Just try not to look so excited about it."
Shion blinked. "I looked excited?"
"Yes." Nezumi shuddered. "It's unsettling."
"O-oh. I'm sorry." Shion pressed his lips into a thin line and narrowed his eyes. "I won't look too excited. Is this better?"
"No."
Shion sighed. Evidently there was no pleasing some folks. "I'm going to stitch you up now. Just don't look at me if you don't like my face."
Nezumi clicked his tongue, but didn't argue. He looked around the cabin, and Shion felt a wave of self-consciousness bolt through him. His cabin had always been comfortable, but he'd never had many guests. The villagers in Kronos couldn't see the life he'd built for himself here—if they thought he was a witch now, allowing them to see his charms and forestry décor would confirm their beliefs.
Shion closed his eyes and concentrated on pulling the energy from the collection of healing herbs he kept nearby. He wove the energy into something calming and numbing for the wound on Nezumi's shoulder. Primrose was his favorite, simply because Shion worked with it the most and had the greatest experience with it. He eased it through Nezumi's muscles, working out the tangles of damaged nerves and soothing the flares of pain crackling through them.
Nezumi began to relax beneath his hand, and Shion understood that his numbing agents had begun to work. He opened his eyes, looked at the wound—the bleeding had slowed enough for Shion to feel comfortable with beginning to stitch it.
Shion began weaving the needle through Nezumi's skin. It was considerably different than stitching a piece of clothing, but he kept his hands steady and focused on the task at hand. Nezumi didn't groan when the needle punctured his skin, so Shion continued to push the tip through the skin and watched as the wound began to close beneath it.
"How did it happen?" Shion murmured, and the sudden sound of his voice made Nezumi flinch. "Oh, I'm sorry."
"How did it happen?" Nezumi looked at the curtains; Shion kept them closed at all times to keep the warmth inside and prevent prying eyes from spotting his magic. "Hmm. How, indeed."
Shion closed his eyes. "So, you don't feel like telling me?"
Nezumi's silver gaze flickered down toward him. "Do a halfway decent job," he said quietly, "and I might."
Shion's heart clenched. He turned and focused quickly on suturing the wound. Weaving the numbing magic from the primrose plants into the path of the needle proved to be far easier than Shion anticipated it would. His blood sang at the realization that, even years later, his skills were no less sharp.
He'd be an excellent healer, if given the opportunity.
Beyond the window, the heavy snowfall continued to coat the world in layers of silver. A wolf howled in the distance. The winter world had swept away all remnants of the autumn, smothering the plant life for the remainder of the season. Shion was grateful he'd gone out before the frost and gathered enough herbs to keep him set until springtime. He hadn't anticipated that he'd need to dip into his supply of pain-reducing herbs, but he was no less grateful to have them. A soft smile played on his lips as he closed the last bits of Nezumi's wound.
Outside, the night dragged on.
To Be Continued...
