Private Tales What Does Not Kill Us

[Pern]

His voice resonated strangely beyond the pound of her heartbeat in her ears, as if hearing him from afar or beneath water. Pern felt her focus go in and out, hazy and fuzzy to the point that she was aware of the weight of his hands on her neck and shoulder, but was having trouble coming back to the present.

Then warmth moved to her face and two eyes shifted within her vision. She blinked at him, unfocused at first until the gentle touch to her ears. A gesture so simple and yet not one that anyone had ever done to her before. The rampage of her terrorized heart skipped a beat, the gold of her eye shifted as she found focus on his own again.

Pern released the tight breath in her chest. His voice was the softest she could ever remember hearing it.

We cover the wound.

We cannot leave a trail.

You understand?

Cover the wound. A task that she could handle. She nodded, swallowed, nodded again, "Yesh... okay. I have shome... in my bag." Gilabree had sent them on their way with various necessities that an apothecary could provide, including wound dressing and ointments.

"Ish it over? Have they gone?"

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Ish it over? Have they gone?"

"No," Hath replied.

For a few seconds he remained close. His breathing became slow and steady. Even in the midst of their peril, a creeping warmth rose form his gut that had nothing to do with the physical exertion.

He leaned back and glanced around. In this part of the woods they could be within thirty paces and he wouldn't see them.

"Here," he said. She had a jar of something that looked like a wax or clay. Not perfect but he was more worried about her bleeding on the foliage and leaded a tracker after them.

"Still."

He smeared some over the cut, starting to seal it. Hath took the dressing ahd pressed it down. When he took his hand away there were no spots of blood. Hath saught out her hand and brought it to her shoulder.

"Hold tight as we walk. We fix later."

 

[Pern]

Pern held fast, though her mind was hardly on the wound that she couldn't presently feel any pain from. She followed him without another word, though she did spare a wary glance back the way they had come. No one gave pursuit.

When Hath moved with purpose he did so quickly and covered much ground. In the savannah it hadn't been too hard to keep up, but staying at his heel through the thicket of the forest proved a challenge. By the time he finally slowed and felt confident enough in the distance put between them and the highwaymen, she was winded - whether from the physical exertion so much as the horror of the encounter she wasn't sure. The pain of her neck wound had also started to set in now that the adrenalin had worn off.

Nearby a stream echoed gently - she could smell the damp earth along its banks on the air. This was a wild part of the forest, barely tread by the feet of civilization. They'd followed what appeared to be a deer path for the last hour and come to a stop in a clearing. Pern dropped herself onto a large stone and let her pack settle on the ground between her feet.

It was peaceful here and a calm presence permeated the old woods.

"Hath," Pern looked over at him, "your shoulder," she pointed a clawed digit at the long slice across his shoulder blade.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath acknowledged the wound with a grunt. He'd been careful not to rub his back against the foliage and to keep it bleeding into what was left of his jerkin. He undid the toggles and turned to the stream. Hath stooped to one knee and shook the blood-stained jerkin in the water, downstream of where the might drink. He left it on a small rock to dry, but the air was close and humid around them.

He turned to stand just behind arms reach before Pern. The slow drain of adrenaline from his veins was more painful that usual. Whatever dark power he had borrowed for a few short seconds, he was paying for it now.

"It will be alright," he said. He tilted his head to glance at the quick bind they had placed over the wound. A dark orange shape showed that the wax had spread with just a taint of blood.

"We'll get yours washed and stitched."

Hath took a step closer. He rested a hand on her other shoulder. He hadn't missed her reaction, but there hadn't been time to truly acknowledge it before.

"How are you, Pern?"

 

[Pern]

Always so casual about his wounds. It was something she'd taken note of from the very start - no matter the severity, Hath always took them in stride with a noted calmness. Always seemed to know what to do about them, how to treat them. Pern's experience in wound care stretched not much father than those she'd encounter while smithing. Namely burns and cuts, a few broken bones here and there but nothing ever so serious as what she'd experienced over this journey.

Certainly she'd never been shot by bow and arrow while in Elbion.

Or attacked by gnolls. Or elves.

So how was she? It was difficult to meet his gaze now that she was sitting still and the fear of being followed had dissipated.

"I ... killed him," the sickness in her gut began to settle in again, "I didn't mean to. I jusht... threw the hammer and..."

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath slowly descended to drop one knee to the floor in front of Pern. He laid his right hand on her knee. His left slowly slid up her shoulder, up the curve of her neck and down her jaw.

With her chin gently tucked between thumb and finger, he urged her to meet his gaze. He was aware that she wasn't used to body language and physical affection as communication, but it was what he knew.

"You killed him," Hath agreed.

"Whether you meant it or not, he would have killed you."

Eventually. They might not have rushed to carry out the deed if they could have subdued her.

"You are alive and he is not. You tried to stop that fight. I am glad you are alive. And I will hurt those that threaten you."

 

[Pern]

Numbed by her anxiety, Pern did not reflexively shy away from his touch in those moments. Instead she was heavy in the hand, weighted by the wellspring of emotions bubbling up anew. When Hath turned her gaze up to him he was met with eyes glossed by contained tears.

"I don't hurt or kill people. I don't want you to hurt or kill people, Hath," or to have people hurt on her behalf, "that ish not who I am. I am not a warrior like you or Shcy... I am jusht a blackshmith. Jusht Pern."

She shook her head, releasing a worried groan as she thought on her father and what he would think of her and it only made the swirling sensation of her stomach worse.

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Just Pern..." he echoed.

Hath pressed his forehead to hers.

"You are not 'just Pern'," he said firmly. At this statement he placed the large palm of his hand to her breastbone.

"You are Pern. You are black-smith. Not a warrior. That is good.

"We will stay off the main roads. But not too far."

 

[Pern]

The weight of his forehead against her pressed the tears from her eyes. Overwhelmed by the images of the attack replaying in her mind, it boiled the churn of her gut and the heat of anxiety in her blood until it felt like her heart was about to melt. It all stopped as the warmth of Hath's hand against her chest suffused her flesh and bone, spreading over her figure the way a warm bath soothed a fretting soul.

Pern lifted a hand to clasp at his wrist as an anchor in the tumultuous sea of fear, worries, and regret.

Hath already had a plan, or at least a notion of how to proceed on their journey which was so much more than anything crossing her present state of mind. The idea of walking - hah! Pern wasn't sure she could just yet, let alone plot a new, safer route. What a mess she was. Hapless and utterly out of her league here. Home was so very, very far away and she missed it terribly so.

The only thing she could do was press on.

She nodded against him, swallowed her remaining fear like a spoonful of poisoned honey, and opened her eyes again to look at him, "Okay. Let me shee to your wound firsht."

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath was patient. They were not in danger so he simply let her breath as she clung to him. The orcs that had merged with his tribe after his father's death had never respected Hath. He was quiet, thoughtful and introspective for an orc. Just as his father had been. He had promised to keep her safe on this trip.

There was just a little surprise in his eyes as he leaned away from her. A moment where he paused before slowly drawing back.

When had he started to feel like that about her without realising it?

Hath turned his broad shoulders around, turning his bare back to her.

"If your hands are not steady, we can wait," he told her. "They will not find us now."

 

[Pern]

Missed the meaning behind the odd look on his face. Thought perhaps it to be confusion for his wound - had he forgotten about it so easily? Did it not even hurt? She frowned as he turned about, golden eyes settling on the long slash across his shoulder. It looked deep, perhaps enough to need stitches ... she didn't think she had the items needed for that.

"If your hands are not steady, we can wait," he told her. "They will not find us now."

Pern paused as she leaned to pull her bag from between her feet, eyes falling now to her hands: shaking still.

"Noh," she replied quietly with another hard swallow, "I can do it."

Had to get ahold of herself. Couldn't let herself be so useless, such a coward. Hath had so quickly managed to deflect their attackers and tend to her neck before leading them to safety. If not for him, she'd be dead - or a prisoner. Or beaten and robbed. Several times over already.

The orcs at the portal.
The gnolls in the savannah.
His tribe? They'd never have taken her in without him.
His brother.
The bandits at the farm.
The elves that followed.
Now this.

Her lips pressed into a thin line around her tusks as she willed her hands to calm, flexing in and out of a fist several times before unbuckling her bag to seek out a potion bottle.

"It'sh deep," her claws closed around the potion while her other hand gently dabbed away fresh blood with a cloth, "we don't have anything to shtitch it. I'm going to ushe shome healing poshun to closhe it."

 

[Hath Charosh]

"Yes," he agreed.

Hath had put it out of his mind. Orcs were hardy creatures and could survive serious wounds. One only had to look around a tribe to see how much they endured. They would be orcs with missing hands and arms. Whorls in the skin where something had taken a bite.

Now that his mind turned to the wound he could feel the deep bite.

"His curved sword was sharp," Hath grunted. A blessing and a curse. A clean slice, but a deep one.

"If you must," he said. He didn't want to be in a situation where life or death was decided because they had used all of the potion. Dying of a festering, open wound would not help get them home either.

The pain was intense now he focused on it. He tried to turn his mind away, but instead it fell into the trap of his new realisation. A heat flushed his skin as he let that raw feeling strike him for a few seconds. Hath wanted her. He wanted her exactly as she was. Not a warrior or survivor, but braver for the choices she had made in spite of this.

"Do I drink this or...it goes on the cut?" he asked.

 

[Pern]

"Noh," Pern replied, "I will put it on the wound."

Health potions were wonderful to have on hand but her own thoughts mirrored those unvoiced by Hath. Drinking it all would likely heal the wound to near completion, but their supply was limited and this was not life or death. She could spare half the dose, maybe more, simply by pouring it directly on the open cut. It would not likely heal all the way, but close enough to stem the possibility of festering.

With a slow breath in and out, Pern unstoppered the bottle and ever so carefully began to dribble the blue contents over the wound. Magical healing was not without its pain - the mending of rent flesh could be nearly as bad as the original wound itself. She'd taken potions to heal broken bones before and remembered thinking the natural way would have been preferable.

A few extra drops went into the deepest of the cut while she sparingly administered to the shallow ends. The smell was always so strange. A mixture of the arcane and blood - not an aroma she'd pick for an incense, to be certain.

"That should do," she said after a few moments and stoppered the bottle again, "I'll poultish it and then we can go."

The poultice she could apply more liberally. They had more of it to use and she knew how to make more from ingredients found in the wild. Her hands made quick work of it and she bade him let it dry for a few moments while she washed up and got herself a drink at the stream. There she waded in up to her knees, letting the cold shock of the water wash away the remaining trembles of adrenaline. Pern filled a waterskin, drank deeply, then filled it again before flushing some water over her face.

She took a moment to pull her hair free from its tie, having fallen loose in their frantic escape. The thick, brown waves and curls tumbled down past her shoulders now - it had only been just past her chin when they left Elbion. She ran her claws through it while her golden eyes moved against the flow of the stream, looking north along its bank, "I think thish shtream runsh by Wikkerton."

 

[Hath Charosh]

A deep growl rose up from the pit of his stomach as the potion did its work. She would feel the rumble through her hands as she worked. A low, instinctive noise that would raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

"I'll poultish it and then we can go."

"Thank you," he said, breathing heavily and leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees.

He remained there, one hand reaching into his back and clutching the small green stone Gilibree had given him. His reaction to the pain had been entirely typical, but after the burst of dark strength on the open field he feared the influence of something darker.

As Pern pulled her braid free, his attention returned to her. He might have been a more thoughtful creature than most tribal orcs, but he had still been raised in the savanna and had become more assertive in recent years.

Pern had reminded him that she had not been raised that way. If she had - even with their injuries - he might have waded in after her, made clear his intentions clear. If willing, he would have carried her from the stream and taken her on the mossy bank.

Instead Hath simply watched her closely, wearing a carefree smile.

Wikkerton.

Yes, he thought to himself, that was where they were going. He put aside his fears and his desires and stood tall.

Hath walked to the water to wash the blood from his hands and face.

"Then we should follow it, even in the deep woods," he said. "But we walk careful and slow."

 

[Pern]

Pern did not have a carefree smile to match. Nor did she really notice that he was watching. Her mind was still spinning, still churning everything that had taken place in the last hour of her life. It set the pit of her gut with a hot coal of anxiety that would not cool no matter how much water she drank. For a moment she nearly felt like wretching up that belly full, but she muscled it in place with a tight chest.

Needed something to take her mind off it, and she found it in the form of language once more as Hath laid out the new plan. She turned to him and nodded, still fussing with a stubbornly knotted coil of curls in her hands.

"Hath," she began, <<I'm sorry. I forget to practice when fear. I will try more.>>

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath splashed water over his hands and forearms. Blood had dried to his skin and took a little scrubbing to clean away. Human blood was watery. They often bled out from wounds that would seem minor to an orc, but it still dried eventually.

He looked up at the sound of the orcish tongue.

<<That is alright. It was not a time for misunderstanding,>> Hath replied.

His grasp of the common trade tongue had improved a great deal over the last five years, but she had learned a great deal since passing through the savanna.

He shook his hands, making sure they were clean again.

<<Stay still,>> he told Pern. A long stride brought him close enough to take the strands of hair from her. He was used to weaving bowstrings and would work the knots free much more quickly when he could see them.

 

[Pern]

Uncertain for a moment what he meant - Pern wondered if perhaps he'd spotted another wound she was not aware of. When his claws took hold of her hair she understood and suddenly felt rather self conscious about the state of what her father would have referred to as a bird's nest. She'd n ever been vain, but appearances and impressions were important in Elbion. Pern had gotten some teasing in Hath's tribe for how clean and tidy she kept herself - but in the last few weeks she'd become a bit lax on the habit.

<<It has grown long,>> she remarked about her hair, eyes not meeting his, but tentatively skating upward to look at his own braids and smiled faintly as she noticed how unruly his own had become, <<we both are knots.>>

 

[Hath Charosh]

<<Mmm yes. It is a mess.>> He said of his own hair.

His fingers work deftly. Each large knot was broken down into smaller ones and worked out one at a time.

<<I like this long, but I can cut it if you would prefer>> Hath added.

<<I will wash mine after.>>

His own was still mostly dry, beyond the one braid had had caught a splatter of blood.

<<You can rebraid mine>> he offered as his fingers worked through one of the last of the knots.

 

[Pern]

This was nice, Pern thought to herself. She'd never had many friends in Elbion and certainly those she associated with the most would not have taken the time to help her with her hair. Ignatius had brushed it for her when she was young, and he had a lady friend that stopped by the visit once in a while that would put it in simple but sweet styles for fun. Mostly, Pern had only ever washed, brushed, and pulled it into a bun. She hadn't ever even learned to braid until living among Hath's clan. Her own had had never been long enough to really need it.

That Hath liked it long gave her pause on the idea of cutting it. No one had ever really said much of anything about how they liked her hair before. She supposed she should have been happy or flattered by the compliment, but mostly it just made her feel quite self-conscious about ... everything. How long it had been since she'd taken a proper bath or really gave her hair a good wash. How long she'd been wearing the same clothes for. How close Hath was standing and the prickling, tickling sensation of his claws in her hair. Made an anxious knot in her chest.

"Oh," Pern said in response to his offering to fix his own, and she smiled, thankful for the change in direction of attention. She nodded at that, <<Yes, look well for Wikkerton.>>

Though perhaps, given the community that called Wikkerton home, it might not matter so much as if it would for Elbion. She gently cleared her throat as he released her hair, the knot successfully tamed, <<Thank you.>>

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath let her hair slip through his fingers. Wounded and on the move in dangerous territory, his keen instincts should have kept any distracting thoughts from the front of his mind.

Hath let out a soft sound at the back of his throat, quiet and needy. He trailed a fingertip over the back of her shoulder as she stepped away. Small signs. A failure of survival instinct.

Unfortunately Pern was so oblivious that perhaps even if such things evoked a flutter beneath that anxious knot, that she might not be able to place it.

He turned his back on Pern and hinged at the hips, dropping his weight to drop his entire head into the water. He shook his head under the surface. He stood up, gasping and shuddering from the cold. He shook some of the water away, and ran his fingers through the dried blood to work it out.

 

[Pern]

If Hath was very good at one thing that did not seem to be especially orcish in nature, it was putting her mind at ease. Pern would never truly know just how much more patient and empathetic he was compared to the others of his tribe and family, but she thought she saw moments of it enough to compare. Males in his tribe seemed quite forward and brutish, eager to show their place and prove their strength. Proud of scars and triumphs, even if they cowed in the presence of the matriarch just as readily.

Pern had nothing to prove there to anyone except herself and the Chief. Hath's mother had been a monument of regal mystery to her for most of her stay. She did not mingle and anywhere she went seemed to be done so with purpose. Only once had she paused by the forges to watch ... or rather, study. Leaving Pern to feel utterly self-conscious for several harrowingly long minutes until she'd departed without a word.

Pern remembered the translator telling her that the silence was a good sign and that her sudden, inexplicable visit had meant that she was intrigued enough to see for herself. It was almost an honor. But how out of her depth she'd felt among Hath's tribe. All the communication she missed simply for her ignorance. Subtle gestures that stood in place of entire sentences. Training herself not to smile, or look directly in another's eyes for too long had been a practice of near futility for her.

Hath's moment of wildness in the water reminded her strongly of the vast sea of differences between them. Even still, the novelty and honesty of how he acted caught her so off guard at times. It was a bit like watching a child - something she would never, ever say to him of course for fear of insulting the orc. She smiled faintly, no teeth, as she watched him. A smile that briefly frowned into itself as she strode from the waters back to the boulder she'd previously sat upon while her heart and mind raced in panic. Now she was simply tired and grateful for the moment of pause.

Pern took up her bag and quietly looked through it while Hath lathered and washed his tangled and wind-whipped mane. Somewhere within she had a jar of mynseed oil paste given to her by one of the she-orcs in his tribe for oiling hair. She'd not intended to use it in her own, not personally liking how it made her scalp feel, but Pern thought it might come in useful for softening and conditioning leather. Still, perhaps this small reminder of home might be nice for him. Ah, there it was.

She held it up for him to see with a curious look, <<I can use? A gift from Shathta.>>

 

[Hath Charosh]

As he washed, he tried to keep too much water from the wound. It wasn't easy. Like the rest of his tribe, the simple facts he knew about healing amounted to more than the superstitions of many remote human settlements.

Pressure stopped a wound bleeding. Water encouraged more. A sense of smell told you how flesh was healing and if it did not smell wrong then it was to be left dressed and left alone to bind properly.

<<You can, >> Hath said plainly.

In his left hand, he held some of the leather binds that had been in his hair. His right only held droplets. He flicked them at Pern before sitting himself down on front of her. Dark spots formed on the pale rock as small drops of water settled. There wasn't enough sunlight through the trees to make them evaporate quickly.

<<You have learned this faster than I learned human. It is money that is stupid. Humans spend too much time talking in riddles of numbers.>>

 

[Pern]

At his much taller height, now sat before her while she sat the boulder, Hath was near perfect height for the endeavor of grooming. Combs had been considered silly things, used only for decoration or for cleaning parasites from the scalp. Combs were not meant for untangling knots - that was a task strictly relegated to the fingers and claws. Pern understood it was for bonding as much as it was for one of the few actions of sensitivity. In the tribe, long hair and many braids signified long years and many victories. Clean, decorated, and well-oiled hair was often a sign of the highly-respected or highly-ranked (the two, she learned, were not mutually exclusive). Bedraggled, unkempt, unbraided hair was either a sign of someone who had fallen out of favor, or one who had done nothing to earn it. A shorn head marked failure in a way that was unmistakable. Her own hair had been quite the oddity among a clan that was vastly dominated by darker ebony.

Though brown and golden hair was not unheard of for orcs, it was extremely rare throughout his kind. Her shorter locks and lack of braids had also been a source of curiosity and scorn for some. Luckily her skills and knowledge in the forge had earned her enough respect that she'd been approached by several wanting and willing males. Not that Pern had even understood it at the time... or even now, really. The other she-orcs had snickered, gossiped, or scoffed.

As it stood, she understood enough to know that Hath's hair was to be honored and that he would allow her to preen it meant something. Perhaps not the something he wanted it to mean to her. Pern simply understood it as a sign of trust and respect. She began at the ends and carefully combed her claws through windlocks and knot-nests. His words earned a sad smile from her that he would not see.

<<Humans are...>> complicated, of course, but she did not know the words for it, <<big more to learn I think?>>

There was much to be said for humans that she lacked the orcish words for. She sighed, struggling to find a way to say it, <<Humans talk with coin. Orcs have ... scary sounds.>>

She smiled again, leaning forward over his shoulder to mimic a grunting growl sound she knew indicated some unspoken command of give me that, usually when referring to an object and accompanied by a gesture, then chuckled at herself.

 

[Hath Charosh]

Hath tilted his head back. He closed his eyes and took a modicum of satisfaction from the slow tug of her fingers working through his hair. This was something normally only done between close family members and mates. He was was to her lack of cultural understanding, so did not allow his spirits to rise to easily that she started to groom him.

When she leaned forwards and made a guttural sound right beside his ear, his heart rate thudded a little louder. Perhaps she did.

<<Humans are complicated,>> he said.

The translation wasn't direct. It was closer to meaning deliberately obtuse, but he understood what she was trying to say.

Hath reached behind himself with his right arm. He placed his palm against the outside of her bare thigh to see how Pern reacted.

<<Some humans have power and coin. Some seem to get coin by being...cruel. By lying. Maybe orcs let the wrong people decide things.>>

Hath thought of his step-father and how he had come to control their tribe just by the size and strength of his closest allies.

 

[Pern]

She mouthed the word he gave her silently, though did not know its meaning. For all she knew, he could have said humans were smelly. Pern would not necessarily have agreed with that given their different contexts of origins. To her, orcs were far more aromatic ... at least in ways she was not generally accustomed to. His musky scent, for instance, was quite strong but one she had grown used to during their travels. Smelling it brought her a sense of comfort in knowing he was near, especially in unknown territory. But the smells of his entire tribe? Quite overwhelming.

Pern had an appreciation for the human novelties of soap and perfumes that took their cues from the lovely things of the world like flowers and sweet things and earthy things.

<<I think orcs are more good with no coin. Coin not always good,>> she replied. Adding money to their culture would likely only degrade the foundations of their ways - ways she had come to appreciate. Her motions with her hands paused at the sudden presence of his hand on her leg. Odd, had she said or done something wrong? Was she pulling too hard? She thought she was being quite gentle.

<<Sorry, did I hurt?>>