Wizard of the Wood

Apologies and Recoveries

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13

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Weightless. Suspended in frigid cold. Why did he decide this was a good idea? Why did he choose this? Was this really how it was all going to end? Here on the face of Fanged Ridge far from any semblance of society to freeze to death by the edge of the brook?

His hands instinctually clutched his bag closer as the last of the fire was snuffed. His shelter made of roots and snow was far from warm, but it served him well until now. As the light of the fire went out, his own consciousness slipped from him.

She would never know... Not now...

How long had he been unconscious?

He felt something. Pressure? He was numb from the cold, so it couldn't be more snow, could it?

Weightless again. Engulfed in unending warmth. What was going on? Was this a monster? A beast of the mountain consuming him as so many stories had warned him of? He tried to resist, but he couldn't move. His limbs refused to respond to his commands.

There was one reassurance that this was not some creature swallowing him whole. It was the gentleness of the touch. It was the familiar voice calling out his name.

Reassured, Rylir felt his body instinctually turning toward the source of heat. It was solid, but there was a thrum that was soothing. Unable to resist or move on his own, he let his body go limp.

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Rylir opened his eyes and looked around at the vertigo inducing ceiling far above him. He was surrounded by furs. He was laying on stone next to a fire that could have engulfed an entire home from his perspective. It took an embarrassingly long moment for him to realize where he was.

Why did this feel like déjà vu?

He was in Essie's home once again.

Rylir blinked twice groggily and grasped at the furs around him. There he was back by the fireplace surrounded by the furs from his bed. The smell of roasting herbs, bubbling potions, and parchment filled the air.

Rylir attempted to sit up, but his entire body revolted and sent a throbbing pain through his body. The dull ache felt like it had crawled its way into his bones, creating an untouchable cold. Breathing hurt. Blinking hurt. Everything hurt.

But...

He was alive...

She... she had come for him...

"Shame on you, sir." Essie's voice rang out clearly as she stepped up to him, piping hot bowl of what smelled like soup in her hands, as she sat on the ground beside him. Rylir could only gaze up into her features and, reading them quickly, was pleasantly surprised to see concern in her ice-colored eyes. Her features were set in a stoic attention, but he could tell somehow that she was just as relieved as he was that he was awake.

"Shame?" Rylir croaked out.

"Yes, making me worry and being so careless with your life," stated Essie.

"Hardly," muttered Rylir as he forced a partial smile onto his face.

"What were you doing out there?" she asked as she stirred the broth in the bowl. "Why didn't you go back to the village? You could have made it back in time."

"I was trying to make it back. I didn't want to leave things the way they were," muttered Rylir, looking away bashfully before pulling on a smirk and looking back up at the giantess. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you summoned that storm just to get me back here."