"That's absurd," sneered Aurora, her arms crossed tightly under her chest in what Moran figured was her natural posture.

Maybe her Heartshape made her arms stick together and the edges of her mouth so heavy she had to wear the m in a disaproving grimace.

The woman had a solid reputation in the village.

During the last week, Moran heard many people whisper about her skills and the miraculous recoveries she could bring about.

She was the person who had healed Kai from the condition he had been in when they reached the village, and that alone was a testimony of her abilities.

Sadly, the woman had little to no in-depth knowledge about the inner workings of human bodies, if one considered Shapeless to be human, as expected from someone who could apparently heal a torn arm with a mere touch.

All she’d done since arriving here was criticize him, explain in detail how "stupid," "naive," or "clueless" he was, and repeatedly inform him that he was about to get Vestiya killed.

Moran sighed more heavily than was needed to emphasize his point.

"Look," he said, trying his best to keep his anger out of his tone. "I just need you to heal her after we’ve drawn her blood. That’s all. If you can do that, she’ll start producing blood that actually works."

Aurora’s arms tightened across her chest, her glare sharpening.

“Her body has no strength left! You think blood just appears out of nowhere? She needs strength to rebuild what’s missing.”

For the first time in their lengthy discussion, she took her arms out under her chest, spreading them like parcially and waving them up and down like she wanted to flatten the air.

“And in order for that to work, and I am going to say this for the last time, she needs to rest."

She drew apart the last word, spelling it out letter for letter.

Moran gritted his teeth, tempted to argue but stopped himself.

He had tried four times within the last minutes to slowly explain to the woman that the body needed more than rest, energy, and some kind of "good" food.

Of course she had no chance of understanding his reasoning without understanding how exactly blood worked, but explaining hemoglobin to her would be about as simple as trying to explain gravity to a rock.

“Just… trust me on this.” He squeezed the words out with frustration, earning himself an idignant scoff from the woman.

“Trust? You’ve been here for, what, a week, and now I’m supposed to believe you know better than me? You have done nothing to earn anything of that sort from me!” She shouted the last sentence more than she spoke it.

Moran's jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth for a no doubt witful counteragument that was so good that she would see reason, but a faint voice cut him off, ending their bickering.

“Enough.”

They turned to stare at the object of their argument. Vestiya was seated on a bed between them. Her head hung from her slumping shoulders.

“Aurora…” Vestiya’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “I appreciate your concern, but I already… agreed to his plan.”

Aurora frowned, looking as though she wanted to protest, but Vestiya’s weary, resolute gaze kept her silent.

The chief wore a wide gray mantle, hoping to hide her worsening condition from anyone who didn’t already know about it.

Her left leg shook in a constant, agonizing rhythm—a painful reminder of time slipping away.

Precious time, something she did not have much of.

Following Moran’s instructions, she’d choked down as much iron-rich meat as she could stomach—mostly liver, kidneys, and other entrails.

Now, she was waiting for her condition to improve.

Of course, her symptoms would continue to worsen for a time.

Despite the influx of iron, her body still needed time to absorb and use it, replacing the defective blood cells with new, functional ones. And that, unfortunately, could take a while.

Technically, she was already saved.

Now that her body got what it needed and considering her state, Moran thought it unlikely that she would die before her body could patch itself up.

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The reason he was even arguing with that stubborn women was not to save the chief of the village, but himself.

If her condition wasn't getting better within a week, they'd both be dead.

His objective wasn't just to heal her, but to do it fast, so in order to survive, he would cut out the most time-consuming part, the actual production of blood with the help that Aurora was refusing to give him.

Aurora stared at her chief, then glared at Moran. For a moment every cell in her body seemed to revolt, as if they couldn't bear to give in, but then she unleashed a shaky sigh. "Fine."

She turned around and walked to her instruments.

"Why are the members of this family so determined to kill themselves?"

She muttered barely loud enough for Moran to hear.

He rolled his eyes and circled the bed, letting his gaze slide over the insides of Aurora's "hospital", if one could call it that.

The room was nearly empty, save for the three of them. The rest of the village lay scattered in a sluggish daze, recovering from the revelry of the night before.

The celebration must’ve been wild.

Moran had heard the cheerful songs outside his hut shift into boisterous, drunken laughter as the night wore on, echoing through the walls as he sat crammed into the same hut they once again crammed him into.

The person guarding him this time hadn't complained endlessly, instead settling for the occasional angry glare that gave Moran the impression he better not sleep if he intended to live long enough to heal Vestiya.

Inically, Moran had been surprised that at least Kai was not here to oversee his mother's treatment, but Aurora had told him, in the most condescending way possible, that it was tradition for anyone who received their Heartshape to serve on the next watch.

He guessed this was so they didn't drink themselves into oblivion like Bithlehem had, while they had yet to learn to control their new power.

To everyone's dismay, the only other person in the room was a groaning and moaning mass of ____ fur that was cowering one of the other beds.

Bithlehem, the monkey-like elder, was rolling his head over the pillow in an attempt at catching the constantly wandering cool spot that would be able to soothe what Moran assumed to be a hangover.

Moran couldn’t help but be mildly impressed that the man was even capable of getting hungover.

Given how often Bithlehem seemed to indulge, Moran would have assumed his blood had built a full immunity to alcohol or that his Heartshape avoided it somehow.

Judging from the groans of pure agony, that was not the case.

Vestiya had mentioned that Bithlehem had stuck his neck out for him at the elders's meeting, so Moran tried to muster some sympathy for the man.

It was hard considering the monkey-man had added a delightful, new scent to his arsenal. Vomit.

Aurora turned her tools in hand.

A long knife and a metal tube. Moran gave an approving nod.

Simple, yet efficient.

The woman handed him the instruments, holding onto them as he grabbed them, only letting go after he made eye- contact.

She opened her mouth to bark instructions, but he was faster.

"I know where to cut," he assured her, kneeling down near Vestiya's bed.

In turth he could use some advice on how to insert the tube, but considering that his goal was to get out as much blood as possible and with the powers of his assistant (because that's what Aurora was!) he couldn't do too much harm.

A sloppy cut was ten times better than starting another argument with Aurora, in his opinion.

He grabbed Vestiya's arm and shoved back the sleeves of her mantle, reveling a trembling arm.

He took a sharp breath, steadied the knife, and made a careful incision.

A thin trickle of blood began to flow, dark and watery.

He angled the metal tube toward the cut, feeling the resistance as he tried to position it in the vein.

His grip slipped, and he had to adjust, bracing himself for a moment to get the alignment right.

Forcing the tube into place required a little more pressure than he’d expected, but after some trial and error, he felt it connect.

The blood flowed down into a bucket they’d placed beneath her arm, pooling slowly.

Now it was Aurora’s turn.

Without a word, the healer grabbed the front of Vestiya’s mantle and ripped it open, exposing her collarbones.

She placed her palms firmly on the chief’s shoulders, and within seconds, black antlers sprouted through her blonde hair, twisting and branching like the trees outside.

A low hum filled the air, a deep, vibrating sound that made the hairs on the back of Moran’s neck prickle.

He kept his focus on the bucket below, watching Vestiya’s blood drip and splatter into it.

The seconds dragged by as the bucket slowly filled, the blood dark and thick, pooling higher with each steady drop.

He could feel his own heartbeat in his throat, the faint hum of Aurora’s power pressing against his eardrums as he waited, the scent of blood polluting the air.

His eyes fixed to the bucked, he saw the red liquid rise. One fifth. One quater. One half. Three quater.

Finally, when the bucket was about four-fifths full, he gave a quick nod.

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice almost drowned out by the hum.

Vestiya had bled more than was necessary, but Moran wanted to be sure.

Carefully, he took hold of the tube and slid it from Vestiya’s vein, letting the slick warmth of her blood run over his fingers.

The wound gaped open, and he pressed down on it with his thumb and forefinger, feeling the wet, pulsing waves of blood pulsing against him with every beat of her heart.

The texture was almost nauseating, his fingers sinking slightly into the spongy tissue as he tried to stanch the flow.

He could feel the heat of it, the slippery, sticky texture that coated his skin.

Despite his grasp, the red liquid seeped out between his fingers and ran down his arm.

Not even a week ago he had gutted a Gazerbeast without batting an eye, but this... this was hard to endure.

He felt a knot froming in his chest, slowly creeping upward as if to choke him.

“Heal the wound,” he muttered to Aurora. She answered with a faint, almost absentminded nod.

A moment Moran felt motion under his fingers. Then the low hum stopped, and with it the bleeding.

Opening his hand he found the cut was gone.

He’d been told multiple times that Aurora could do things like this. Considering the miracle she must’ve performed to save Kai, this was practically nothing, but Moran still found himself thoroughly impressed.

After his week of pondering, he now knew a lot about bodies, how they functioned, and what they could do, but he’d never be capable of performing anything like this.

As far as he knew, once a limb was lost, it was lost for good. Yet here she was, regenerating liters of blood and sealing a potentially fatal wound in a matter of seconds.

“Impressive,” he muttered, with bitterness in his voice. All his knowledge... outdone in a second.

"Indeed it is," Aurora answered while she pulled Vestiya's mantle closed again, giving him a quick sidelong look.

"And I swear if this doesn't help her I will fill another bucked with your blood."