It had been such a long, hard winter that she lingered at the edge of the river, allowing the cool waters to run over her feet. Her small pail waited next to her, already filled with water and ready to be taken to her parents' graves to bless their headstones. She'd thought January was the hardest month, with its grey days and long, frigid nights. But then her father had died on the first of February, followed shortly after by her mother, and it felt like the only thing she could do after was hibernate until spring.

Spring had arrived and with it she felt her grief lift little by little, washed away with the runoff from the mountains. Her spirit felt lighter as the sun lingered longer in the sky each day. It would be some time before her heart was healed from losing both of her parents, but it was a start. Maybe she would never be the same again. She'd considered that too, of course, but it was impossible to know while her grief remained a raw, open wound.

With a reluctant sigh she pulled her feet from the river and quietly dried them off. All around her the rushing water bubbled and foamed around the rocks, drowning out the birdsong in the trees. In another month the stream would be filled with fish, so many you could simply wade in and pluck them out with your hands. Until then they would need to subsist on the last of their winter rations, an increasingly disappointing selection of pickled vegetables, rice, and dried fish.

Taking up her pail, Rin slipped on her sandals then paused. Standing across the river from her was a man. He was leaning heavily against the tree next to him as though he scarcely had strength enough to stand. His kimono had once been pristine white, but was stained dark with blood that emanated from some hidden wound beneath his shattered armour.

"Do you need help?" she called to him over the gurgle and bubble of the river. Their eyes met across the water, or at least she imagined they did, and she noticed how his shoulders visibly rose and fell as he drew each laboured breath. She waited for an answer, but then just as silently as he'd appeared he collapsed to the ground.

She didn't stop to consider who the man was, or whether he was friend or foe, before dashing across the river to his side. It had never been in her nature to ignore another when they so obviously needed help. And this man, whoever he was, was no different. It wasn't until she arrived at his side and turned him over that she realized the full extent of his injuries.

His armour, or what was left of it, had been thoroughly shattered. Only a small section that covered his belly and part of his chest remained. The side where the worst of the damage seemed to be, there was a deep gouge cut through the material across his shoulder, and below that – nothing. It wasn't the first time she'd seen a man lose an arm, or a hand, to the endless war their province was embroiled in, but it was the first time she'd seen such an awful injury fresh and up close.

With a cautious touch she lifted the blood-soaked material of his sleeve and tsked softly when the stump that remained oozed dark blood. It was little wonder he hadn't bled to death leaving such an injury untreated.

"I am very sorry about this," she said to the man before tugging at the sleeve of his kimono and ripping off a long strip of silk. The material was filthy, but at the very least she could use it as a tourniquet until a more suitable dressing could be applied at the shrine. He didn't stir as she tied the wrapping tightly around his injured arm, just below his shoulder.

"That should hold for now," she said, speaking to herself while she tied one final knot in the wrapping.

Sitting back on her heels she considered the new problem before her. If he'd managed the walk to their temple through the mountains in his condition, that meant the battle couldn't be far. Fear snaked down her spine like ice water and she lifted her head. The forest around them seemed peaceful, but it was difficult to hear anything over the bubbling of the river. She hadn't heard him either, until he'd been standing directly in front of her. What if others followed this man's lead in search of safe harbour, or to steal some rations? Unease prickled at the back of her neck. It wouldn't do either of them any good to linger.

Still, leaving presented a complication of its own. The man was at least a full head taller than her and she hadn't the faintest hope of being able to carry him inside the temple. It wasn't a long trek, but it required crossing the river and hiking up a set of stairs to the gate.

"This would all be so much easier if you were awake," she lamented. There was no helping it then, her only choice was to run back and get her brother to help carry this man inside.

"Please wait here," she said even though she was certain the man was unconscious beyond the point of hearing her. "I will return shortly with help. Please don't try and move."

When he did not stir, she raced across the river and up the narrow path to her family's shrine calling her brother's name.

oOo

"This is a terrible idea," Einosuke said from the door. He crossed his arms and eyed their newest guest with an unkind look. "What if he kills us in our sleep?"

Rin rolled her eyes and removed the temporary dressing she'd applied at the river from his arm. A fresh stream of blood promptly seeped from the wound.

"We will be lucky if he survives until morning," she remarked, and hurried to tie a fresh dressing. If his wound kept bleeding like this, their only choice would be to cauterize it. The thought turned her stomach.

"Please go see if you can find one of father's old yukata to put him in," she instructed, turning her attention to her brother who lingered in the doorway looking slightly queasy at the sight of the blood. Einosuke appeared thankful for the distraction and departed without a word. Blood had always made him squeamish, as did most things. As a result, she'd spent most of the winter caring day and night for their ailing parents while he'd prayed non-stop in the shrine.

At the time she'd resented him for not offering to do more, in time she'd come to understand that he done what he was capable of at the time. He was no healer, not in the way that she was, but he was a Shinto priest. So he'd done what he could for their parents – he'd prayed. It hadn't saved them, but a part of her hoped that in some small way he'd assisted their journey from this world to the next. It would have made her father proud to no end to know that Einosuke had completed the full funerary rights for them both. In his first year as a fully dedicated Shinto priest, no less.

She gently washed the blood and dirt from the stranger's face until the small bucket of water at her side was murky. Wherever this man had been before arriving at their shrine, he'd clearly been through hell. In preparation of changing him into something cleaner, she cut away the ties that held the last of his armour together. It practically fell to pieces as she pulled it away from his torso and set it aside. His obi was next, a length of patterned silk that she imagined had at one time been very beautiful. The silk was high quality as well, but was now caked with blood and dirt. Dried bits of each fell to the floor as she pulled the knot loose. Frowning, she set it aside in the hopes she might be able to get it clean.

At his side a sword fell to the floor as the obi went slack. It looked to be a normal katana, but the handle was weathered from years of use. Perhaps it was a family heirloom? It was not uncommon for samurai to pass such weapons on from father to son with each generation, or so she had heard. She studied it carefully before setting it aside. With only his kimono and juban remaining, she made quick work of each, laying them open so she could clean off the worst of the blood and grime from his shoulders and chest before they re-dressed him.

Though she had expected to see a fair amount of injury, the damage revealed as she wiped her cloth across his skin made her gasp in shock. The side of his body where his arm had been severed was covered in deep, angry looking welts. She prodded lightly at the skin around his ribs in search of broken bones, certain there had to be more. How could there not be after sustaining such a damaging blow?

Her fingers moved gently across his skin, fearful of causing more harm or pain. He hadn't once stirred the entire time she'd been washing him, but even so she moved carefully. It was as she was finishing wiping the last of the blood from his face that she noticed the markings on his cheek. They were so unusual, a pair of deep red, almost magenta hued stripes on either side, running from his cheekbone into his hairline. She ran her fingertips along the markings, curious about what they could mean. Were they tattoos? Battle scars?

Looking down she realized a similar stripe ran up the length of his remaining arm to his elbow. She had never seen anything like it before. It was an odd mystery, one she hoped she would have an answer to once he awakened. Her fingers were still exploring the markings on his cheek to determine whether they were tattoos or scars when she saw his eyebrow twitch.

"I'm sorry, I was only curious about them," she said quietly and pulled her hand away. The man's features instantly relaxed and she exhaled a sigh of relief.

"I found these," Einosuke announced and appeared at her side with a small pile of clothes. She thanked him with a nod and set them aside.

"Aren't you in a little over your head, sister?" he asked with a dubious glance at their guest's extensive injuries. She had to admit, his prospects for survival seemed grim. But as long as there was a chance, she didn't intend to give up.

"I will need to go to town to purchase some herbs. If he is to survive, I will need something to fight off fever and infection. With that wound…it will be a miracle if it does not fester. I hope we will not need to cauterize it."

Her brother flinched at the thought and his face went pale, "Yes, let's hope it does not come to that."