Tamora blinked, her vision blurred as she looked down at her red-soaked hands. Her fingers trembled, adding to the dizzying double-vision she fought so hard to see through.
Where was she? How long had she been riding like this? And was she still being followed?
Turning to look backward, she winced as a deep, burning pain shot through her shoulder. Losing her balance, she slipped from the saddle, foot tangling in the left stirrup as she hit the dirt. And despite her desperate grunts, her horse persisted at its steady trot, dragging her through the brush.
The blonde's attempts to pull herself up were in vain, her vision slowly fading as she looked up at the star-studded sky above.
When Tamora came to, she was somewhere markedly different. The ground beneath her was soft, and the air around her was warm like a hug.
She didn't have the strength to open her eyes yet, but she could sense something scuffling nearby. Her horse? Damn thing, where'd it drag her to now?
Slowly regaining her senses, she smelled something savory and heard the soft crackle of a fire. A wooden clack caught her attention, followed by the gentle scuff of boots across the floor. Fighting to open her lids, she managed just enough to take in a blurred view of her surroundings.
Tamora lay in a bed, covered up to her waist in a warm quilt. Across from her was a strange man, turned away as he cleaned his hands in a wash basin. Looking around for anything to use in case things got hairy, she spied a large bottle on the bedside table.
The man began to turn around and she quickly closed her eyes and remained still, even as the stranger walked up and sat beside her on the mattress. What she would not stay idle for, however, was when she felt a hand brazenly reach underneath her collar.
Like a rattlesnake, Tamora lunged, grabbing the bottle at her bedside and swinging it at the stranger's face. The glass broke, leaving the smell of pure alcohol in its wake, and the man stumbled to the floor.
He raised two trembling hands with a soft whimper as he knelt. As he looked back her way, Tamora clasped the top of her shirt shut, pointing the broken bottleneck in his direction.
"I-I apologize," the stranger said, clearly just as startled as she was. "I should have checked on you before doin' that. I was going to check your bandages."
The man's blue eyes focused on her shoulder, and she looked down, blood starting to seep through her shirt. Tugging at her collar, Tamora looked down at carefully woven wrappings across her chest.
The man moved, and she returned to threatening him with the shards of glass. Pausing again, he regained some composure.
"I don't mean you any harm, ma'am," he said slowly. "My name's Felix…this is my home…and I've been caring for you these last few days."
Few days? Tamora opened her mouth, and all she could get out were a few disjointed noises, her tongue like sand.
Felix retreated to the kitchen counter, plunging a tin cup into a bucket of water. Cautiously, he approached, arm outstretched to hand it to her.
Keeping the bottleneck in one hand, the blonde grasped the cup with the other, gulping until it was empty. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she tried again.
"Where am I?" she rasped.
"On the outskirts of a city called Niceland," Felix offered to refill her cup and she accepted.
Tamora blinked, having heard the name before some time ago. Dear lord, her horse had dragged her way up here?
"Anyone come looking for me?"
"I thought someone might, but no," Felix sat in a chair by the fireplace, his hands nervously running along his jeans. "Your wound's opened up…We ought to take care of it."
Tamora looked to her shoulder again, the red spot slowly spreading. Taking another sip from her cup, the blonde resigned. Turning away, she undid the last few buttons of her shirt, carefully removing her injured arm from its sleeve. Turning her head, she gestured for the man to come over.
He stood behind her as he carefully removed the old bandages. After some struggle on his part, she allowed what remained of her coverage to slip away.
"I suppose you've already seen all you could of me," she deadpanned. After all, the clothes she wore weren't her own.
"I didn't do it for pleasure, ma'am," Felix replied with a nervous timbre.
"Sure," the blonde smiled. An almost companionable silence followed as the man redressed her bullet wound. When done, he stepped away to allow her to cover herself.
Grabbing his dustpan and broom, Felix began to brush up the amber bits of glass scattering the floor.
"Would you like to hang onto that?" he asked, nodding to the bottleneck lying on the bed.
Tamora felt a pang of guilt as she tossed it into the bin along with the rest of the shards. Looking up at the gentleman's face, she winced as a purple ring started to form on his cheekbone.
"Ooh, your eye…" she said, spurring him to peer into a nearby mirror. "I'm sorry—"
"No, no; it was my fault. I shouldn't have been so careless," Felix sucked some air through his teeth as he prodded the tender area. "I'll tell you this though, you mean business, miss—"
"Tamora. No more of this 'miss' and 'madam' business; I'm neither of those things. Not anymore."
Felix frowned. The world hadn't been kind to this poor woman long before she was brought to his doorstep.
"Well, Tamora…are you hungry?"
The blonde swallowed down two hearty helpings of rabbit stew before she was sated, and the gentleman was more than happy to offer her more.
"So what is it you do out here in these woods?" Tamora figured she'd indulge him in some pleasant conversation.
"I'm a handyman mostly. I do carpentry and some smithing. When you're feelin' better, I'll show you my workshop," Sitting by the fire, Felix drank from a tin cup. "What is it that you do?"
This was the first time she'd heard any pointedness from the man, but she couldn't blame him. It was only sensible to want to know what kind of person he'd let into his home. He knew she was being pursued, but by who, or why was still a mystery.
"I'm a bounty hunter," she sighed. "And my bounty much prefer themselves to be the ones doing the he hunting…heard of the Cyrus Gang?"
"I can't say that I have." Tamora could barely fathom that answer. But then again, she had made chasing those parasites her sole purpose since they'd upended her life. Perhaps this was a good sign; that they didn't ride up this far to wreak their havoc.
"They're monsters, all of them. Consider yourself lucky."
Felix nodded, opting not to press her further. It seemed she needed some words of comfort instead.
"As I said, not a soul's come looking for you here, nor in town. You're safe."
Part of her wanted him to be right, but her gut said otherwise. This man was putting himself at risk by keeping her here, so she was determined to recover quickly and leave. She couldn't bear letting decent people get caught in the crossfire.
A warm smile crossed the handyman's lips, and he stood up when he noticed the time.
"Try and get some shuteye and see how you feel tomorrow," he proposed, taking her empty bowl. "I'll be in the next room if you need anything."
Tamora nodded, surrendering to the soft pillow and cozy sheets. "Thank you," she said softly; sincerely.
"No trouble at all, ma'am," Felix winced, realizing his words. "Sorry, it's a hard habit to break…Goodnight, Tam."
He walked around the corner from her view, and despite herself, the blonde smiled at his silly little workaround. Curling into the quilt, she watched the fireplace grow dim before slowly drifting off.