A Wounded Warrior's Tale

[MysteryEgg]

There was still patches of thick un-melted snow about the land despite the warmer Spring weather arriving, the days getting longer. And right now, William was grateful for the snow, for he was grievously wounded. Collapsing to his knees in a pile of un-melted Winter snow and bleeding profusely, he scooped up a handful of snow and packed it into the wound to help stop the bleeding and kill a bit of his pain. Still, he was more wounded then just a stab wound to the belly. A long thin but deep slash started on his back at his right shoulder, ending at the opposite hip.

Stabbing his sword into the ground, he used that to help himself to his feet before he yanked his sword back out of the Earth, his sword obviously having seen a battle or two since he had wielded it. William had no idea where his regimen had gone, having a feeling they thought him dead, which didn't surprise him considering his wounds.

Once on his exhausted feet, he slowly took stock of his surroundings, his battle hardened brown eyes scanning with a practiced air, not wanting to miss a thing, especially an enemy if one were to be hiding, waiting to ambush him and finish William off for good. Breathing hard, he suddenly spotted several smoke stacks, and realized he was near a possible town that hopefully hadn't been gutted and abandoned.

Forcing himself to move forward, using his sword as a walking stick, he made his way through miles of cornfields before indeed entering a small town. Pausing at the front road that was dug in by horse hooves and wagon wheels from obvious frequent travelers, he let out a shaky groan of pain before suddenly collapsing into the muddy road, the town obviously having gotten rain recently, and fell unconscious, his long brown hair splayed about him.

 

[Schizophrenic]

Farshore was a small and simple town. It was not particularly wealthy and had a small population in contrast to that of other towns. Despite its humble bearings the people of Farshore are kindly and spirited people loyal to their king. Farshore is usually fairly well off making ends meet through their crops and limited live stock, but as of recent growing conflict caused by the rising rebellions against the king, the town's crops and livestock have started to disappear like trees in a wildfire as they are taken to sustain the king's army with little to no payment in return. Maintaining the town's food storage has become increasingly difficult and the townsfolk only managed to get by.

At the far end of town stands a small old hut, inhabited by a family of four. This is where the story of the one young girl begins.
The sun had yet to rise and greet the morning sky, however this did not stop Setna, from waking to attend to her morning duties.
Setna was a small and thin girl, often mistaken for a child, though in fact had just reached her 17th year. Setna lived alone with her
two younger sisters of fourteen and ten and baby brother of four. Alone ever since the disappearance of their father three years ago
Setna has taken the role of guardian and cared for her younger siblings. Unfortunately of late they-are barely making by. As the winter
is coming to an end and spring is coming Setna's hope shines brighter.

. . . . . .

The sun had yet to rise and greet the morning sky over the small town of Farshore. Streets were stripped of life, fields unguarded. The only sounds were that of the occasional
twitter from the early bird that returned home after the long winter in hopes of spring, the slosh of melting snow slipping from the branches of the trees and tops of roofs. On the
edge of town where stood one lonely hut, isolated from the rest of the buildings. Inside Setna had already awoken ready to attend to her morning duties. The three younger children
continued to sleep soundly. The two youngest snuggled upon their small straw mattress, while the oldest curled up in her makeshift hammock that hung above them.

Setna made her way quietly about the hut cleaning and straightening the mess of random assortment of odd objects from torn parchment to broken sticks and tossed toys
and wooden utensils. Finishing with that Setna threw on her father's old cloak that hung on a hood by the door and slipped on an old pair of worn brown boots, grabbed a basket
that had been sitting at the foot of the door and stepped outside. Setna had gone to pick the berries from the Lentil bush she had discovered two days before that had began sprouting
berries. No one else in the town knew about them as she had found them in the forest a few ways from the village. From her knowledge they should be ripe enough to pick today and
planned to surprise the others with them. However as she made her way down the street she was stopped in her tracks. There at the end of the muddy path lay the wounded
body of a strange man.

Dropping her basket Setna rushed over to the man, falling on her knees to examine him. He was clearly not from the village and was extremely hurt. Rolling up her sleeves and
pulling back the dark locks of hair from her face she carefully rolled the man onto his back using all her strength. She pressed her face to his chest to listen for a heartbeat.

 

[MysteryEgg]

Vaguely feeling himself get rolled over, Gedric let out a groan of pain, his breathing deep but obviously in pain from his wounds, his chest trembling as he breathed, his heartbeat barely a pulse as she leaned in to listen for life in him. As he listened, he coughed hard, spitting up blood, then fell completely unconscious, hearing the cries of his fellow rebel fighters and of the King's army against them before he had suffered these great wounds from a man he didn't know but who wanted to kill him. A grimace wrinkled the 17 year olds' features, then went still, a long sigh escaping him as his head rolled to the side and his body went limp.

His uniform, clearly marking himself as a rebel fighter against the King, was battered and worn, and torn in several places from bad weather conditions that winter and this early Spring year as peasants prepared themselves and their fields to farm and otherwise get ready for the growing season for their crops. Still, as she pressed her ear against his wounded chest, listening to his barely beating heart, it began to rain, at first a drop or two hear and there, then much more steadily, the rain surprisingly warm unlike its usual coldness, and quickly began to soak through there clothing.

As Setna labored to heft Gedric and carry him to help, he moaned, but otherwise didn't stir, still clutching onto the hilt of his sword despite the fact he was clearly barely conscious, his feet dragging in the dirt as she carried him on her shoulder, his body leaning rather heavily on her shoulder.

 

[Schizophrenic]

Setna struggled to keep the young rebel soldier up above his feet. She had to take him to
the local clinic. He may have been an enemy of their king, however Setna did not believe anyone's
life was worth less than any-other. This war was cruel and meaningless in her eyes, looking at this
wounded man only strengthened her belief. Setna walked slowly but carefully through the pouring
rain which drenched both of them and softened the dirt road which now clung to their feet, she went
on leaving the basket she had been carrying behind.

Finally making it to the small clinic she gently lowered the wounded man back first against the
wall of the building. Dr. Willis was an old friend of Setna father and continued to take of their family
long after his disappearance, if anyone could and willingly help her now it would be him. Taking the
the rusted metal locker in hand she lifted it and sent it back upon the wood of the door several times
with urgency, as for every moment that passed the life of the man before her slipped further and further
into oblivion.

All was silent as she stood there. Her cloak clung to her and grew heavy as the rain descended mercilessly
over their heads. This was not good, both of them would be sure to have fevers the next day, saying if the man
survived and his body already had enough to deal with, she thought. She watched fretfully as the blood continued to
flow from the open wounds on his body. She looked at the clinic standing the same as it was when she was child no
older than her youngest brother. It was nothing special but it signified comfort and sanctuary to her even now as she
stood upon its door step balancing the wavering life of another.

Moments later after once again raising her hand desperately to the door waiting for an answer came the old familiar
face of Dr. Willis. He only need one look at her and then the man passed against his wall to understand the situation.
Setna and the doctor without exchanging anything but a glance took up the wounded rebel and carried him inside.
It was minutes later when the good doctor let her know everything was going to be okay, though to her it felt like hours.
"Look at you, your soaking wet, lass. Be home with you the young'uns will be up and wondering where their sister has
gone." He said patting her on the shoulder. "I'll take care of the young man. Grab some sustenance on your way out for all
of you. Can't be skipping the most important meal of the day." He smiled and Setna nodded exhausted and watery eyed she
hugged the old doctor and made her way home.

 

[MysteryEgg]

Soft moans and groans of pain escaped from the 17 year old Gedric as Setna helped the good Doctor man carry him inside, his hand somehow never managing to loose its grip on the sword, as if knowing, even though he was unconscious, his life depended upon his sword. But then, Gedric, ever since joining the Rebel Army against the King, had chosen to live by the sword. It was a friend, and the better he took care of it and the more attached to it he became, it would be more likely to save his life when it really mattered.

That was...Till he ran into a much more skilled opponent with one. However, Gedric's belly wound hadn't been from a sword or blade. No. It had come from a weapon they had only heard rumors of. It was called a pistol. Apparently it could shoot six lead bits that could destroy a man easily with one well placed shot. And indeed, when the good Doctor when to take a look, he would find the bullet still lodged into his belly, which was still packed with a bit of snow from just before Gedric had fallen unconscious.

Gedric's breathing was shallow and shaky, sounding more like a death rattle then anything else, and he had begun to shake from getting rather wet from the now pouring rain outside, turning the streets to mud and making it a bit treacherous for travelers.

 

[Schizophrenic]

Making her way out the door, shielding the small bundle of food the doctor had given her under her cloak,
Setna quickly made her way down the muddy road back to the edge of town to her younger siblings. By the
time she had made it back she was completely and utterly soaked and despite being warmer as spring approached
she was chilled the bone, her feet matted with thick layers of mud.

Standing in the doorway Setna looked to see all three children still fast asleep, peace painted
over their faces. Giving a sigh of relief Setna stepped inside after wiping her shoes free of mud and
carefully not to disturb the sleeping children shut the door and hung up her cloak.

 

[MysteryEgg]

Not remembering a thing after having fallen unconscious upon reaching the small town, Gedric slowly woke with a groggy groan, not recognizing where he was when he finally came to his full senses. Grimacing, he tied to sit up, but took in a sharp breath of pain and quickly laid back down, breathing hard, the top half of his clothing having been removed, exposing his full torso, his wounds easily accessible to the Doctor.

Hearing water, Gedric slowly turned his head to the right, and indeed see a Doctor dipping a white cloth rag into a bowl of warm water, the man sitting on the edge of the cot he had been placed upon, and Gedric let out a grunt of pain when he suddenly felt the Doctor press and wipe his stomach wound to clean off the blood.

"Who are you...? Where am I...? H-how did I get here...?" He wondered, not daring to attempt to sit up gain, his wounds throbbing in pain, in rhythm with his pounding heart.

It was then he also realized, his pants had been removed as well, leaving him only in his underthings, a blanket covering his lap.

 

[Schizophrenic]

. The doctor continued silently tending to the young man's wounds as if he had not heard him.
"Young man please hold this here." the old doctor said holding a cloth over the young man's stomach
wound. The doctor spoke with a calm and kind voice. Looking at the young rebel he smiled.

Setna had just finished cleaning off and setting their small table when she was suddenly grabbed from
behind. She gave a startled yelp only to be answered with giggles. She looked behind her to find her ten-year
old sister, Abbey clinging to the skirt of her dress giggling uncontrollably. "Oh you!" she smiled at the child.
"Go wake up your brother and sister and clean up." she said petting Abbey on the head. Abbey stopped giggling
and looked up with a big smile and excitement in her eyes. "Do we get breakfast today?! We are aren't we? Your
setting the table!" the girl bounced up and down. Setna smiled and nodded.

They had not had a proper meal since winter had froze the land and it's been even longer since they had an actual breakfast.
"Now hurry up and get up Lilly and Tim, silly goose." In a flash the girl had made her way across the room and was jumping up and down
yelling excitedly for her brother and sister to get up. With the provisions Dr. Willis had given her she would be able to make themselves
a proper breakfast and not to mention make a soup later that day with the leftovers, Setna thought. As she began setting out the ingirediants
her thoughts wandered back to the wounded rebel she left with the doctor. Would he really be okay?