There are five thousand and one Grim Reapers responsible for collecting and escorting souls between the two known realms of existence: life and the afterlife.
Griffin knew his curiosity set him apart from all the other Grim Reapers, but he never und...
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Kingdom of the Red Rose (Episode 43 of 62) Chapter Sixteen: Nathaniel and Emma (Part 1 of 3)
One by one the assassin's senses returned. Warm rays of sunlight caressed his body. He was lying on something solid, cold, and damp. He could hear neighing and smelled the stale air of a well cleaned stable, mixed with the smell of hay. A breeze blew in from the large main door. There was a small window to his left where sunlight entered the room and reached him. He counted more than three different horse whinnies. He was on a wooden table, naked. His gunshot wound was treated, and his skin sewn. Someone had just exited the stable, walking next to a horse. Two other people were in the stable with him, moving about and making loud noises, not worrying about disturbing him.
The assassin never opened his eyes, but he began making a mental map of the surrounding area. His remarkably sharp senses allowed him to form a near perfect reconstruction in his mind. He leaned his head towards the light, welcoming its warmth, and immediately one of the two people in the barn took notice.
"Go call Madam, tell her the man we found is waking up," it was a male voice.
The second person dropped whatever he was holding, a pitchfork for moving hay by the sound of it as it hit the floor and ran outside.
"Nathaniel?" a cold hand slightly shook him by the shoulder.
A strong worker's hand, hard and full of calluses. But his movements are slow and judging by the voice it was an old man.
"I think he just moved in his sleep. He must be delirious from fever," a third person, a woman. He hadn't noticed her. She was sitting right beside him, extremely silent.
"How are his wounds?" the old man said.
"His head is fine. The only one he has to worry about is the gunshot wound. I was able to remove the piece of iron and I stitched him up. But I fear he might have a fever now."
The old man placed his hand near the wound, gently pressing down. "It looks clean. I don't see any pus. That's some fine needlework."
"I just wish I had more experience sewing flesh."
"You did just fine Margaret. If your needlecraft is good enough for madam's clothes, then it is good enough for this man's flesh. This stranger owes you his life."
"I need to get some clean water for his wounds."
"Go, I'll watch him until you return."
As soon as Margaret's footsteps disappeared into the distance the assassin rushed to his feet. He grabbed the old man by the neck and pushed him against a wooden beam.
