Page 26 of Warrior of the Wild
“You first,” I say as I continue rubbing the foul-smelling cure into his skin.
“Soren.”
“I’m Rasmira.”
“Thank you for saving me.”
“You should be thanking my sister. She’s the one who made this miraculous ointment.”
He lets out a labored breath as my fingers brush against another wound. “But she’s not the one who fought off a dozen beasts that tried to devour me.”
I raise a brow.
“I saw most of your fight before I passed out,” Soren explains. “You’re incredible with an ax.”
The praise makes me uncomfortable, so instead of thanking him, I say, “You must be terrible with one.”
A short laugh escapes his lips. “Not usually, but when it’s one against twelve…”
“What are you even doing out here?”
“I live out here. The wild has been my home for a year.”
“A year!” I exclaim. So that means… “You were exiled after last year’s trial.”
For some reason, he grins at me. “And you must be this year’s failure.”
I wince and withdraw my hand now that Soren’s back is mostly healed. I place my focus on returning the lid to the canister. Three-fourths of the salve is now gone. I didn’t regret helping him until his last comment, however.
“Sorry,” he says quickly. “Too soon. I’m an idiot.”
“Almost a dead idiot.” I rise and wipe my hands off on my pants.
Soren tries to get his hands underneath himself to push onto his feet. He rises maybe an inch before falling back down.
“Do you think you could help me stand?” he asks.
“Roll onto your back.”
He grimaces.
“Your skin has healed over,” I say.
“What? How? I thought you gave me something to numb the pain.”
I tell him about Irrenia’s experiments with ziken blood. When I finish, he dares to roll onto his back.
“She sounds amazing,” he says.
I swallow a lump in my throat. “She is.” I hold down my hand to him, and he takes it. Once on his feet, I let go, but he sways to one side. I throw Soren’s arm over my shoulder to ground him.
“Side effect of your magical cream?” he asks.
“I don’t think so. You lost some blood. It’s made you light-headed, and you’re likely exhausted from your ordeal.”
“And you’re not?”
Truth be told, I feel ready to sleep for a hundred years, but having someone else to take care of is giving me the strength to go on. I answer with a shrug.
