Willow

Time continued on lazily and before Willow knew it, Spring had begun. It had surprised Willow when she’d received permission to take the children berry picking. While not a strenuous or dangerous task by any means, the berry bushes were in abundance outside of the walls and it had shocked Willow when Agnes had assured her that Edward himself had given permission for the endeavour. Willow recognised the trust that was being placed in her with that single decision and felt warmed by it. Perhaps this living situation could be reasonable after all.

Willow smiled at the child clinging to her hand. His name was Malachi and at just five, he was already a bright and bubbly personality. He often argued with Felix for her attention, although Willow would quickly silence such behaviour with her strongest look of disapproval.

Willow had set Felix to monitor a small group of the kids, although they were still within Willow's eyesight, as they screamed their delight. While to most it was just picking berries, a boring task at best, because it was just outside the compound walls, the children considered it some important adventure. Willow could feel the guard's eyes burning into the back of her head. It annoyed her. If she wanted to run, she would have done so months ago. And even if she did run, where would she go? She would be a hunted fugitive wherever she went. She was safest here where she was; the King didn’t know of this place and as such it made it less likely he would find her.

Shaking her head, she bent to lift one of the youngest pupils, so she could reach some berries of her own.

Suddenly Willow felt cold and shaky, unsteady on her feet, and hastily she put the child down, concerned she may drop her. She looked up, surveying the surrounding area, suddenly feeling like something was watching her. Something malevolent. Whatever it was, its presence made the hair on the back of her neck stand and her palms clammy.

“Felix!” She called, “Bring everyone over here, please!” She shot him a firm look when he seemed to be protesting and he diligently gathered the four children with him, one clinging to his back, giggling loudly.

Willow's eyes darted between the five children and the forest behind them, reaching out with even her magical senses, desperately searching for the cause of this unrest.

Then, suddenly, she felt, rather than heard, the very slight whisper of a large foot landing on fallen leaves.

Instinct flung into overdrive; the words ripped from her throat. “Felix, run!” as she pushed the children behind her toward the gates and flung herself forward.

She reached the boys just as a grey, misshapen shape launched itself from the undergrowth, snarling in a way that only added to the unsettling nature of the beast. Willow pivoted around Felix, screaming again for him to run, as she barrelled into the grey shape.

She felt them roll, sticks pricking her skin, Willow could feel some were deeper than others. These thoughts were secondary however as she fought to keep the beast distracted long enough to let the children make it to the gates. She could hear some of them crying, calling for her, but their voices were growing fainter, which reassured her they were at least getting away from the danger.

She felt hot breath brush her face and the pain of teeth as they struggled to gain purchase on her skin. Willow punched and kicked, trying to get her hand under her skirt to the knife she kept strapped there.

Claws dug into her arms, her legs, but this was to Willow’s advantage as its claws shredded the fabric of her dress, finally allowing her to grasp the hilt and, pulling it quickly, she stabbed into the form. Over and over with little aim, no thought farther than to continue. The attacks continued desperately, but slowly they grew weaker.

A strange, congealed liquid flowed from the body onto Willow’s skin and clothes, a mottled bluish grey sludge that, rather than making her hands slippery, seemed to stick her hands to the knife. It stunk of decay, and if Willow had not found herself in a life-or-death situation, she would have been retching. Slowly the attacks slowed and eventually, the beast let out a shallow, gurgling last breath and fell limp.

It wasn't a light beast, and it took time for Willow to edge out from under the body. She wondered where the guards were. Why had they not helped?

She collapsed into a seated position, collecting her breath, and taking stock of the damage.

The scar tissue across her right wrist had split open again, and her left shoulder was too much a mess of blood and skin for her to ascertain just how damaged it was. Where the beast's blood touched her skin, it had burnt like a mild acid but any attempt to wipe it away only seemed to agitate the strange liquid further. Her ankle throbbed and was turning a nasty shade of purplish-blue, but the rest seemed to be superficial. Willow wondered at the miracle of that as she wiped blood from her eyes before turning at another rustle from the trees, struggling to pull herself into a defensible position.

However, out from the brush popped a mop of brown hair and, with a high- pitched wail, the child flung herself into Willow's outstretched arms. Willow rocked Elaine gently, whispering comforting words to her as she slowly cried herself to exhaustion and fell asleep, likely from the shock of the situation.

Willow gently cradled the five-year-old in her arms, pressed to her chest as she forced her body to move, hissing quietly as her injuries made their presence known once more. Ignoring the pain, she limped back toward the gates and found it ajar. She pressed her good shoulder against it, making just enough room for her and Elaine to slip through. Willow grew concerned as she entered: the gate was ajar and there were no guards on the walls. Had a beast made it into the Compound?

Upon reaching the compound, she saw people all a-flutter, Elaine's mother all but hysterical. It seemed many of the men were preparing to march out. Edward was at one edge of the congregation, face grim as he talked seriously with Felix. Felix looked a wreck, face red and eyes roaming the space distractedly before they fell on Willow's limping form.

His whole face seemed to light up as he turned toward her. Willow smiled gently in his direction, trying to convey that she was safe, although she clearly was not well.

“Willow!” he exclaimed, breaking into a run. His yell got everyone's attention, but Willow paid more attention to the sobbing blond clinging to her waist she knelt, trying not to disturb Elaine as she held him close, silently searching for the other children over his shoulder.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Several were already hurriedly making their way over and Willow slowly counted them all out, a familiar ritual as it was how she collected them all back after every excursion.

“All here!” She announced, searching out Elaine's mother's gaze. Indicating she come over, Willow gently placed the still sleeping Elaine into her trembling arms.

“She’s perfectly fine,” Willow reassured, knowing the sudden panic in the woman's eyes was due to the blood staining her clothes. “It is my blood, not her own.”

She gave the relieved mother a smile before catching a familiar duo of women's eyes.

She hailed Rose and Agnes over. “I'm heading to my rooms now, Rose, if you would meet me there. I find myself in need of your expertise,” she said with a tight smile. “Agnes, if you could organise with everyone who wishes to visit with me, I'd very much appreciate that. After, if you could bring two buckets of warm water to my room, I'd be grateful. I don't think I'll be bathing for a while.” Both women nodded solemnly before departing.

Willow gently uncurled the many tiny arms from her person with a reassuring smile.

“I need to see Healer Rose for a bit...” At their crestfallen faces, Willow amended. “If it's okay with your parents, you may all come to see me after dinner. But make sure your parents say yes!” She emphasised. This seemed to bolster their spirits some and she quickly sent them off with strict instructions to hug their parents.

She bobbed an unsteady curtsy to Edward before slowly, laboriously hobbling to her rooms.

For once in her life, she was glad to have magic as she carefully peeled away her dress, with a sad glance she placed it aside, knowing it would have to be burnt. Considering current events, it was perhaps absurd to mourn the loss of a dress; perhaps it was the blood loss, Willow mused.

Agnes appeared several minutes later with the requested water and Willow slowly sponged off the blood, dirt, and congealed goo. She also noted that her earlier assessment on her injuries was not entirely accurate.

Her shoulder would need stitches, although she still wasn't sure how bad it was, unable to turn her head enough to truly check. There was little that could be done for her wrist but cover and wait for it to heal, the flesh there was still too weak for stitches and being a joint it was likely not recommended either way. There was little more they could do but keep infection out. She also had a large gash on her thigh, likely from her desperate attempts to handle her knife. It didn't appear too deep, although her healing ability had stopped the bleeding at least.

While Willow was seeing to her wounds, Agnes had seen to her hair. Her hands perhaps were a little rougher than usual, likely because of the sight of said injuries. Willow and Agnes worked diligently and by the time Rose arrived, supplies carefully balanced in her hands, Willow at least somewhat cleaned off and ready for her ministrations.

Agnes bowed out apologetically, unable to handle the blood. Willow easily sent her on her way. Agnes promised to have tea sent up before hurrying from the room, face ashen.

Willow eased herself onto the floor of the bathroom. “In case I faint,” Willow grimaced as the smell of disinfectant filled the room.

She tried to hold still, and Rose commended her strength as she poked and prodded, pouring what Willow felt to be an excessive amount of cleaner before handing Willow a small bottle.

“This will dull the pain,” Rose explained, indicating the careful rolls of thread, silver needle glinting in the dull light. Willow took a quick sniff of the liquid and nearly gagged, which quickly became a whimper as the movement pulled at her wounds.

“That doesn’t dull the pain, it's Doze. It’ll dull my senses for a time, but I’ll still scream and shout.” Willow made eye contact. “I cannot take this. Who knows what’s still out there? There could be more of those things. Wounded screams will only bring any other beasts in. Besides, the children will hear. They’ve been through enough today. I couldn’t do that to them.”

Rose eyed her sceptically. “If you're sure… You’ll have to bite down on something, or you’ll do more damage to yourself.” Willow nodded, moving to pull a leather strap from the cupboard. She’d been using it to steady bottles on a wobbly shelf, but this was perhaps more important.

“Will this do?”

Rose nodded and guided Willow into a sitting position, which allowed her easy access to the damaged shoulder.

“I want you to sit on your good hand,” Rose instructed as she wrapped the damaged right wrist. “It’ll keep you a little more restrained.” She eyed the wrist. “Nothing I can do for this, unfortunately. You’ll just have to be careful with it until it can fix itself.”

Willow nodded, trying to focus on anything but what was about to happen.

“When you start patching me up, I’ll start bleeding again. My magic has been holding it all together until now. You must be quick,” Willow explained.

Rose nodded quickly, not taking her eyes from the needle and thread she was carefully threading and tying off.

“Leather in mouth,” she reminded, and Willow obeyed. It was old leather, on the softer side, and tasted of her musty cupboard. Willow tried to focus on this, trying to forget the world around her. Yet, some part of her brain was hyper focused on what was about to happen, waiting for the pain.

Rose tapped her arm in warning before the needle bit into her skin. It wasn’t pleasant, and it hurt, but compared to the pain of the gash itself, it wasn’t unbearable. However, as Rose went along the gash, the pain climbed, and Willow found her jaw aching from the continued pressure. Whimpers escaped from behind her clenched teeth, but they never rose in volume beyond what Rose could here.

It wasn’t over quickly, and yet it didn’t feel like an eternity. After a few stitches, Willow drifted deeper within in a natural response to lessen the pain.

Finally, it was over, and she enlisted Rose's assistance in getting from the bathroom floor to her bedroom, her legs feeling too unsteady to complete the task under her own will.

Gently, Rose pulled Willow’s arm over her shoulder and guided the shuffling woman into the room. After depositing her on the bed, leaning against the wall, Rose made her way into Willow’s closet, searching for clothing to help Willow into.

Rose had emerged apologetic, however. All of Willow’s clothes were perfectly appropriate for her life inside the King’s rules, but they were all high-necked, ankle and wrist length. Anything she owned would irritate her wounds. Rose placed a fresh set of underthing’s beside Willow before reaching for her bag of supplies. From within she pulled a jar of dark brown salve and set about carefully lathering Willow’s shoulder in it before winding thick bandages over it, down and around her upper arm, two rotations crossing her body to hold it steady. Once snugly fit, Rose arranged her arm into a sling.

“This should help keep any swelling down,” she explained, tucking a chilled package into the wrapping. “The Bark Ointment should help numb the area. It’s toxic if ingested so don’t touch it, but it’s fine for external use.”

Willow nodded. “What of clothes? Nothing of mine will work.”

Rose nodded. “I’ve got underthing’s for you. Try to lay off the corset if you can, or at least keep it loose. It’s the best I could do.” She bent to wrap Willow’s thigh and wrist. Both were healing fast enough that no other care, excluding the Bark Ointment, was needed.

Willow watched thoughtfully as Rose practised her craft, mulling over her clothing problems.

“Rose,” Rose jumped, “Could you bring my dress from the bathroom?”

Willow inspected the fabric. The top half was a complete loss, ripped and stained almost beyond recognition. However, the skirt was still in decent shape, just a single long tear and a little grass stained and dirty from her tussle on the ground. Willow had sewn all of her dresses and knew that both bodice and skirt were separate entity’s sewn together. Collecting her meagre sewing supplies, she made short work of the dress, removing the ruined top half, and converting the skirt into a simpler, wrap around style one instead. For a blouse, she refashioned her dressing gown, the wrap around closure and loose sleeves making it ideal for dealing with her injuries. Willow did add ties at the wrists, however, to preserve her modesty and protect her from tanning.

Satisfied, she looked to Rose for her approval. Rose ran a critical eye over the ensemble before giving it a nod of approval. At Willow’s insistence, she gently plaited her hair, twisting it into a loose but presentable bun. Willow gave herself a critical once over in the mirror. It wasn’t her best look, but she was at least properly attired and presentable, given the circumstances. Finally, she allowed Rose to guide her into the sitting area where Agnes had laid out a fresh pot of tea and a light meal of cold meats and salad.