The Luck Of Yesterday [A Hermitcraft fanfic](Being rewritten)

Chapter Five: green tipped

̇/ᒷꖎᑑ⚍ᔑ's POV

It the blood was warm, cooling quickly and crusting only to be replaced just as fast, the man infront of me gurgling silently, drowning in his own blood as he slumped forward, ashen skin darkening in the crimson mud, eyes open and unseeing, the pain never leaving his face as he drew still.
Shuddering I drew the steaming sword closer to me, red glistening on the iron as I turn on shaky legs. The children stood behind me with fear, emeral gaze leveling with my own as I school my features. Get them to safety first, then you can panic.
Heading the frightened figured I turned to the eldest, the crumpled map in my hand soon pressed into theirs. They glanced at it, looking at me with worry as I flashed a grin, holding back a flinch as the arrow in my arm pulsed dumbly, blood seeping through my sweater with each heartbeat,
Coordinates to the neighboring village, given to me only hours before by the cartographer, a safe haven.
Nodding the young teen hardened their own tear stained face as they gripped the hands of the two youngers, giving one last glance as they ducked into the shadowy brush, smoke twirling behind as if a fair well. Spinning on my heals I suck in a breath against the growing numbness in my arm, standing gaurd to buy the kids time.

Catching a glint I dove to the side gasping as a near arrow miss was the first sign of danger, the dark smoke covering for the approaching raider, his darkened eyes unflinching as he reaches to renotch his crossbow.
Stumbling forward with adrenaline I swung sharp, my sword crunching against the crossbow with enough force that I felt it reverberate along my arm, agitating the arrow wound, gritting my teeth I pushed the man back with my boot, a muddy footprint now donning his leather armour.
Grunting against the numbness now spreading to my side I felt panick take its toll, this was what it felt like when I woke up, terror and pain driving me into action. I pulled back, ducking as an arrow landed by my foot, seconds too slow, green liquid glistening off the tip and soaking the dirt around it. Gulping I steadied myself, breathing felt closer to drowning in the hot, sharp, smoke.
When had the world started spinning?

Advancing once more I pushed forward, driving my sword through the splintering shield, suddenly battling not only the archer but a newfound nausea, darkness dragging at the sides of my vision as if trying to topple me over as I felt bile bite at my throat.
It was cold, why was it col- no hot, too hot. Yanking away from me the archer grasped my shaking hands as he drove his studded boot into my stomach, painting my vision with colours as I suddenly found myself on the dirt, shivering involuntarily as I tried to focus on the lack of feeling in my limbs. Glancing up lazily i watched another man approach, a banner fastened tightly to his belt. Fear enveloped me once again as I watched him raise his boot, the final thoughts in my head sloppy and hopefully desperate, leaving me only a single sentence as the boot connected with my head, leaving my world dark. Mumbo, Iskall- please, help me.

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Merry Christmas