The Witching Hour

Chapter 17 - Remeyra

Pain shoots through my leg with every step, the gnoll's bite throbbing amid dried blood that flakes with movement. We have been walking for what feels like an eternity, the scorching sun beating down on us, with not a single soul in sight. Each step drains my strength, and I fight to keep from whimpering.

The arid landscape stretches endlessly before us, a barren expanse that seems to mock our desperate journey. Gale's voice, tinged with concern, breaks through the haze of pain and determination that grips me.

'Perhaps we should pause,' he suggests again, his tone soft yet earnest. 'Your condition seems dire, and I'm certain we could both benefit from a brief respite.' He knows as well as I do the severity of my condition, but my stubborn resolve pushes me onward. Baldur's Gate looms ahead like a distant beacon of hope, and every moment we delay feels like a step closer to failure.

I ignore Gale, his words blending into the rhythmic pounding of my own heartbeat. The crunch of gravel underfoot is a cruel reminder of our relentless march under the unforgiving sun. Sweat drips down my brow, mingling with the grime and blood that has become a part of me.

Gale walks beside me, his gaze flickering between the path ahead and my faltering steps. His concern is palpable yet restrained; he knows better than to push me further. In his eyes, I see a reflection of my own determination, tempered by an underlying fear of what lies ahead.

Minutes stretch into agonizing hours, and my vision starts to waver. The edges of my sight darken, and I feel a strange detachment from my body. My steps falter, and I stumble, barely catching myself. Gale reaches out, but I wave him off, determined to keep moving.

The relentless heat beats down upon us, sapping whatever reserves of strength remain. My limbs feel like lead, each step a battle against the gravity that threatens to pull me into oblivion. The ground beneath my feet offers no respite, only an unyielding resistance that amplifies the pain coursing through my body.

Gale's voice fades into the background as my world narrows to the agonizing rhythm of my own breath. Every movement sends a jolt through my leg, a constant reminder of the gnoll's vicious bite that now festers beneath dried blood and sweat-soaked bandages.

Suddenly, without warning, the world tilts. Legs that have carried me falter, betraying my resolve. I collapse to the unforgiving ground, darkness swiftly enveloping me.

Time loses meaning as consciousness slips away, swallowed by the void that beckons with merciful oblivion. The sun-baked earth presses against my cheek, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that seeps into my bones. Gale's voice echoes in the distance, a desperate plea that fades into the abyss of unconsciousness.

When I open my eyes, the sky swirls above me in a haze, the pain in my leg now a dull throb echoing through my numbness. My whole leg feels numb, and my head pounds with an excruciating ache. Gale hovers over me, panic etched across his face amidst his attempts to rouse me from my stupor. I can hear him shouting, but the sound is muffled, like I'm underwater.

The world comes back in fragments, disjointed and disorienting. Gale's face swims into view, a mask of concern and fear that pierces through the fog of my senses. His hands are gentle yet urgent as he tries to lift me from the ground, a futile attempt to defy the weight of my own frailty.

Strong arms lift me, and I find myself standing again, grasping at the fragile thread of consciousness, though my head still spins.

My gaze drifts downward, drawn to the festering wound on my leg. It's a sickly, angry red, surrounded by swelling. I finally realize why I feel so weak. It's infected.

The realization hits with the weight of a hammer blow, driving home the severity of my situation. The gnoll's bite, once dismissed as a mere inconvenience, now looms as a harbinger of potential doom. Infection spreads like wildfire beneath the surface, a malevolent force that threatens to consume me from within.

'I need healing,' straining against the throbbing ache that threatens to engulf me, my voice weak, barely more than a whisper. 'Potion.'

Words escape me in ragged gasps, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of pain. Gale's eyes widen with comprehension, his own fear mirrored in the depths of his gaze. He shakes his head, a gesture of helplessness that cuts deeper than any blade.

'I don't have any,' Gale replies, his eyes filled with worry.

My vision blurs again, and a strange sense of absurdity washes over me. I begin to laugh, a dry, mirthless sound that escapes from deep within me. I laugh at myself, at the wound, at the absurdity of it all. I laugh at the thought that after all I've survived, a gnoll bite might be the end of me. I laugh at the irony of Loroakan sitting safely in his tower, unaware that the girl seeking his end is now fainting from an infected bite.

Laughter bubbles up from the depths of despair, a bitter echo of defiance against fate's cruel jest. It echoes across the barren landscape, a testament to the absurdity of our plight amidst a world that cares not for our struggles. Gale looks at me, bewildered and helpless, as my laughter fades and my eyes close once more.