From the Ashes

Chapter 19 ~ Hiding in a Hovel

Morana found a stream rippling between the trees only a fifteen minute walk from the scene of the attack. A quick search of the area revealed that she was alone and there was no risk of another attack.

As Tarion had requested, she gave a shrill whistle, but when the same amount of time had passed and he still hadn't arrived, she felt safe to assume she'd be waiting a while. Morana took advantage of the privacy and attempted to wash as much of the blood off her body and clothes as she could.

When she was free of gore, she sat on a grassy knoll next to the stream, a gentle warmth radiating from her fingers as she worked on healing her few injuries. Most of them were just scratches, but a few had gone deep enough to let some blood trickle down her arm.

She pursed her lips, tracing a finger over one of those wounds. The skin closed immediately, leaving just a thin line that would fully heal within an hour or two. Morana shivered as she recalled the horror and hunger that had flooded Tarion's gaze.

It had reminded her yet again of the dangers that came with traveling alongside a Corrupted Fae. But he'd been fighting himself. Fighting to resist the instincts that most of his kind couldn't control. Fighting to keep himself from hurting her. Even when she was going to willingly offer him some of her blood, he'd refused and sent her away.

Morana stood and looked back the way she'd come. There was still no sign of the male. Perhaps he just needed more time to recollect himself. But what if there were more Corrupted Fae nearby? Her thoughts whispered. Or maybe his wounds were worse than you thought.

She started back towards the battlefield, urgency quickening her pace. He'd promised to help her and by the gods, she would make him keep that promise. Morana paused the next instant when a tall figure appeared up ahead. Relief and irritation swept through her in equal measures. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited with a scowl until Tarion joined her.

"I was making sure the area is secure," Tarion muttered, not looking at her as they fell in step and headed to the stream. He'd taken his hair out of its usual braids and it currently fell over his neck and cheeks in loose waves.

"And here I was thinking you might've been caught off guard again or bleeding out from your own injuries."

Tarion's tone was dark when he responded. "All right, fine. I was making sure I wouldn't accidentally rip your throat out and gorge myself on your blood the moment I saw you again."

Morana halted dead in her tracks. Tarion strode onward without looking back. She let him put a fair amount of distance between them before following. Once they reached the stream, Tarion tugged off his boots and unbuckled his empty sheaths, then waded out into the middle of the stream.

It only reached to his thighs, but he didn't seem to care as he removed his vest and pulled off his shirt. Morana resumed her seat on the knoll and watched as he bent over and scrubbed the blood from his clothes. His dark hair shrouded his face from view and hung over his shoulders.

From this angle, she could see the faintest ridge of a few scars on his back and a sliver of black, perhaps the makings of a tattoo. She guessed both the scars and tattoo had to be quite large if she could see the tip of them at his shoulders. But she could see nothing more to indicate if her guesses were correct.

He seemed to have gained a slight tan since they left Arcan, she noted as she observed the injuries lingering upon his skin. Morana eyed the burn mark on one of his arms. That was the injury she was the most concerned about. His skin was already festered and almost blackened in some patches around it. What had caused such an injury? One of his attackers, or himself?