The Masked Bird

Damage Control

We were attacked last night. They didn't get through the walls, but they threw bottles of flaming alcohol at the towers and threw small exploding balls at us. We fought them back with bows and rifles, but in the morning we didn't find any of their dead - they just left for no reason. Maybe we scared them away or something - or maybe they were testing us. I didn't know for sure, but the day held a lot of damage control. One of the watch towers' supports were almost burnt clean through, but no one got hurt on our side either. I didn't know if they were gonna come back though - it seemed to me like they would, but the others seemed to think we were safe after that first attack. The towers were fixed pretty quickly anyways though - so maybe they were just saying that for the kids' sakes.

86, 6th day of Summer

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that I couldn't open my eyes. I could feel my mask sitting on my face, and my hood up, but my eyes weren't opening. It felt like there was something on top of them, some sort of crust holding them in place in some way. What that was though, I wasn't sure. I slowly sat up, noticing after a moment that I wasn't where I'd laid down. Whatever I was laying on felt too soft and flexible to be the ground where we'd set up camp. I stretched my left hand out, feeling a thin crusty substance cracking and falling off my gloves as I touched the surface. It was one of those log beds I'd seen made in some of the towns, used a wooden frame and still living branches to make a bed frame then covered them in leaves. I slowly rose to my feet unsteadily, gasping in pain as I felt my ribs flare. I gingerly touched my stomach, feeling the bruises under my clothing in clear detail. I winced in pain, slowly running my hand up the left side of my body where I felt most sore, feeling my ribs. It didn't seem like anything was broken thankfully, probably a result of the fact that I had several layers of clothing on. Then, I realised what was holding my eyes shut. Under my mask, I was still covered in what was now dried blood. With a pained groan I reached up, beginning to rub some of it away, just enough to open my left eye. My right one felt swollen and just touching it sent spikes of white hot pain into my brain. I didn't think it was anything permanent though, so I was probably going to be fine after a few days. I opened my eye, pulling my hand out from under my mask and began to take my surroundings in. There was a reason I was covered in so much blood. I didn't think it was all mine, but I wasn't certain off the top of my head what it was. Then it hit me. A fight - I'd been in a fight. I'd won, but I wasn't certain what else had happened. My mind was still foggy from sleep and pain, leaving me in a bit of a haze. I needed to get cleaned up though, so I took stock of my surroundings. The room was wooden walls, what I thought was deerskin for an insulating floor, with various herbs in pots on shelves. Probably where they brought their sick to be cared for, though there had to be more rooms than this.. I took a step forward, leading with my left - a mistake - and almost collapsed. My knee almost buckled, threatening to spill me onto the ground, but I managed to readjust my weight fast enough to put it on my right, where I hadn't been injured as badly. Despite my quick reactions, pain lanced up and down my left leg, stabbing into my stomach like a beaver gutting a tree.

I shook my head hard, staggering to the door and doing my best to keep my weight off my left side. Perhaps one thing to be thankful for was that the red hot spikes of pain did a lot to evaporate the fog of sleep, letting me focus on my goals. I needed to figure out where I was, and what was happening. The door swung open on solid hardwood hinges, allowing a burst of cold air to hit me, jolting me awake once more. I hadn't even noticed the haziness beginning to float back into my vision, but the cold shock was good enough to knock me out of it and back to reality. Looking around, I realised it was early morning, and I was probably the only one awake yet. Which meant I had time to go get myself cleaned off, before the others awoke. I sniffed the air, looking for the smell of running water. Some people have said that water doesn't have a smell, and those are the people who I say have never left their own home town. They get used to the smell of the river near them, and say it doesn't have any smell. But anyone who's travelled for their life knows what water smells like, and more importantly what good water smells like. This water smelled fresh, clean and clear. So I began my slow stumbling walk towards it. As I began to walk, I began to remember more of what'd happened. Had that been last night? Two nights ago? I wasn't sure, I couldn't tell how long I'd been out for. But moving was good. Despite the pain, the feeling of the blood flaking off my skin was glorious, leaving my aching face able to move more naturally again. I worked my jaw a bit, trying to break the crusted blood off my lips and cheeks. As it fell away in flakes and pieces, falling out from under my mask and blowing away in the wind. Walking though was good for me, helping to work out some of the soreness from my body, but every time I stepped, pain shot up my leg. After about 50 meters or so, I had to stop, leaning against the side of a house to rest. The walls must've been thinner than I realised though, because someone glanced out the window. I grunted, pushing myself up off the wall, and beginning to walk again, setting my jaw and glaring straight forward. I refused to stop again, not until I got to the river. The only thing that let me get to the riverbank was the sheer damned determination to not stop until I reached, but once I did I simply collapsed on the spot wheezing for breath. Each gasping breath burnt my chest, my ribs aching with hot spikes racing through me every time I inhaled. But I had made it to where I needed to be. That was what mattered. For a few minutes, I laid there wheezing in pain. It wasn't made any better by the fact that simply breathing took conscious effort. But I did recover enough to slowly roll over to lay just beside the river's edge. Looking around to make sure I was alone, I slowly pulled off my hood and took my mask off. For a moment, I froze. I felt a sudden, blinding white rage. The anger of an animal pushed to the edge for no conceivable reason. For just that moment, I almost choked on the rage, a red tint colouring my vision ever so slightly. Then, just as it appeared, it was gone, leaving me feeling empty. After a moment, I began to retch, my body determined to expel whatever was inside of me, without seeming to realise that there was in fact nothing. Physically I was jerked backwards as if my stomach was being kicked all over again. It was hard to breathe through it, and occasionally I had to spit out whatever bile my body could kick up, but it didn't last too long. The probably 15 or 20 seconds it took had felt like half an hour, but I was finally done. Before my body could decide to torture me further, I dunked my head into the freezing cold water. The sudden stab of iciness spread from my head down my spine, sending chills into my body. But the fast flow of the water whisked away the flaked blood, letting me pull back with a relieved sigh.