To The North With You {Spice and Wolf Fan-fiction}

Part twenty two: the medicine man

HEY YOU CRAZY LOVE BABIES. OH MY GOD I'M SO FREAKING SORRY FOR LEAVING FOR SO LONG BUT I'M BACK AND HERE TO INTRODUCE A NEW CHARACTER NAMED CLAUDE. HE IS GOOD, I PROMISE THIS TIME.

I LOVE YOU ALL, PLEASE NEVER FORGET THAT.

MWAHHHHH :)

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HOLO'S P.O.V

The first thing I experience when I am roused from slumber, is that I am warm, and somehow out of pain's way. I must be dead.

Fear slinks in my heart, though I inhale through my nose and smell the warm crackling fire that is warming my back. Cool blankets are tossed over me, a pillow under my head. My first thought is that Lawrence somehow managed to find me and we're both safe, resting at an inn.

"I see you're awake."

I gasp, and my nerves snap alive; instinct forces me to sit up sharply. Pain zips through my right side, and I suck in a breath through my teeth.  An old wrinkled man stands at the doorway of whatever room I am in, holding two cups, and my heart sinks. "Who are you?" I croak, my throat raspy and utterly dry. He chuckles and smiles, his eyes crinkling. White hair frames his face and his body is in a constant hunch, giving me the clue that he used to work roughly in his day. He approaches the bed I am sitting in, and he offers me one of the two cups. I slowly reach out and take it between my palms, the frothy liquid warming my fingers from the outside. I wait until he takes a seat and takes a sip of his cup before I do the same. Instantly I am warmed up, and I immediately recognize the liquid as mint tonic, something I had received in Landson's care. He sets his cup down, then his eyes catch mine.

"Can I ask you a few questions?" He asks gently, his voice old but caring all the same, like w grandfather's might appear. I take another sip of my bitter tonic, then nod silently. He sits up straighter and laces his bony fingers. "First, I'm Claude. Didn't want you worrying. Now, what were you doing out there, slumped against a tree with your entire right side broken?" He asks seriously, with concern in his voice. Claude's question catches me off guard, for I had first thought his question would to be concerned about the ears and tail. I sigh, setting my cup in my lap. "I ran into a rotten group of people, and I defended myself." I say simply, for I am not really lying completely. He nods in understanding, though his eyes plead for more, I could just tell. He unlaces his fingers and then gestures to my ears.

"Next question," He announces, a light smile across his lips. "Ears, and a tail?"

I find my lips cracking into a faint ghost of a smile, then nod. "Ears and a tail." I verify, and he chuckles lightly. My tiny smile is soon lost, and I glance out of a nearby window. "Where am I?" I cannot help but ask, and he gestures to the room around us. "You're in my home." He says simply, his southern drawl showing more with each sentence he speaks. Like he was trying to be impressive but realizing that it's doing no bad nor good.

"Your home? Why?"

"Did you not hear me when I said your entire right side was broken? Had a nasty hip dislocation, too." He huffs in annoyance, like I was a chore to him, then his knotted fingers slowly began prying the mug of empty tonic from my hands. I look down to the linen quilt, feeling the pocket of warmth under my lap eclipse me in heat. I curl my toes.

"How long have I been sleeping?" I fear to ask such a question. His ebony eyes meet mine, and the hint of grimness eclipsed inside them makes my stomach flip. I grip the bed sheets, fear of what he has to say. His cold hand slowly clamps my frail shoulder with upmost gentleness.

"About two weeks. Maybe."

Temporarily, my world stops turning. It's been two whole, complete weeks? The same fear that had fled once into the fire, spit back into my heart, sizzling the walls of my muscles. I feel my breath quicken in sheer terror. And suddenly a harder realization hits me like a stone wall.

I left him. My Peddler, left alone, most likely afraid, and alone.

Back in town, I left him.

I was so distracted, tied up in my own pain I forgot Lawrence, leaving him in possible, unexplained danger of god knows what. Guilt swarms me, threatening to consume my entire soul as I think of him lost, alone, injured or dead. Guilt that bubbles through my every core, for I know if the roles were reversed, he would have gone back for me.

Yet I limped out of town, with injured shame and my tail between my legs.

Palming my forehead at my idiocy, despite the pain, I pull my legs up to meet my chest. I gnaw on my powdery lips, covered in some sort of residue from the tonic. The flavor burns in the back of my throat. My muscles spaz like an electric shock, and suddenly my skin grows dry.

Breaking my forehead from my sweaty and shaking palms, I look out the window to the early spring air, a tiny dusting of snow on the tips of dying phlox plants. They have to be old and rank by now. Probably sour.

"What's wrong, miss?"

I sigh at the long shot, then look up to meet his marble ebony eyes, deep set with wrinkles.

"Has a peddler come by? or even passed by?"

Claude reached up, his rooted hands coaxing the last few scruffs of a once healthy beard. His eyes leered from the same window as mine had, and a shrug rolled across his shoulders. "A lot of Peddlers come by, why you ask?"

I bow and slump in defeat. This crazy old bastard probably couldn't tell right from left, much less remember the certain face of just one peddler who stroked by in the woods on a nonchalant stroll.

"He has silver hair and scruff on his chin. Clad in cheap peddlers clothing. His carriage--if it's still in one piece-- has a chestnut thoroughbred attached to it-" I was going to say more, but he held up his hand.

"Now that you mention the silver hair, I remember seeing a withered fellow back in town. He was lookin' for someone, maybe his wife--he didn't say-- but I knew he was urgent to seek her. Poor man, lost his horse and his wife."

My stomach caves in on itself, and the sour tonic from earlier bubbles in my throat and my stomach stings. I have the urge to cry and thrash but I also know that it wouldn't solve any of my problems. I focus on steadying my breathing, and I finally look up at Claude.

"would it be possible for me to be left alone... for a little while?" I curse myself for hearing the whimper in my voice, yet I can't hold anything back anymore, and I feel the tears bubbling up inside of me. If he did not leave soon, I might have to play the innocent part of this facade.

Claude collects my cup, and reaches out and grabs my shoulder with a surprisingly strong clasp for his gnarled hands.

"If you need anything, let me know. I'll just be one room over."

I nod once, and he leaves, leaving me in silence with the phlox and crackling fire as my new company.