The healers heart

Chapter 4

Elena knelt beside the unconscious man, his breathing was ragged, his skin pale from the loss of blood. The flowers she had used to slow the bleeding glowed faintly against his skin, but they weren't enough. He needed more care—more than she could give him out here, so deep in the forest.

Her hands shook as she looked down at him, frustration building in her chest. He was tall and lean, but muscular, his fair skin almost glowing in the faint light of the forest. His face was striking—sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and hair as black as midnight, with a blueish tint that shimmered faintly when the light hit it. There was something regal about him, something almost elven, though Elena had only seen illustrations of elves in her old books.

Her eyes flickered over the bruises that covered his body—large purple and blue patches where it seemed the branches had broken his fall, leaving him battered and fragile. He looked like he had fallen from a good height, and the forest had done its best to cushion the blow, but the damage was clear.

"I can't carry you," she whispered, panic rising in her chest as she looked around the forest. She didn't know what to do. He needed help, but she couldn't lift him on her own.

For the first time in years, Elena felt utterly powerless. She closed her eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to fall, but her desperation overcame her. She clasped her hands together, whispering a prayer to the magic of the forest.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't save him alone. I don't know what to do. Please, help me. Help me save him."

A tear slipped on her cheek, falling to the moss-covered ground beneath her. The moment it touched the earth, it glowed—a faint pulse of light that spread outward in ripples, as though the forest itself had heard her plea.

Elena gasped, pulling back slightly as the ground beneath her shimmered. She looked up at the trees, her heart racing, and then she saw it. The vines, thick and dark, began to stir. At first, they moved slowly, like a gentle ripple through the underbrush, but soon they began to twist and coil with purpose.

The vines reached the man's body, wrapping carefully around his legs and torso. They lifted him slowly, as if mindful of his injuries, and Elena could only stare in awe as the forest seemed to cradle him in its grasp. The vines moved with a strange kind of grace, shifting and curling under his weight, but they never faltered.

"Is this real?" Elena whispered, her voice barely audible. She had seen magic in the forest before, but never like this—never something so alive, so responsive.

The vines continued their careful work, slowly lifting the man from the ground and carrying him along a path that Elena hadn't noticed before. She followed behind them, her hands still trembling from the shock of what she was witnessing. The forest was helping her. It had answered her plea.

As the vines carried the stranger, they moved steadily, but without haste, as if they understood the delicate nature of the task. They avoided every obstacle with ease, curling over fallen logs, weaving through the trees, and even ensuring that the man's injured leg remained supported.

Elena followed closely, still in disbelief at what was happening. Her mind raced with questions, but none of them had answers. All she knew was that the forest—the very magic she had always respected but kept her distance from—was guiding her, helping her save this man's life.

The walkt o her cottaget stretched on in a hazy blur, time slipping away like in a half-remembered dream.

The deeper parts of the forest began to give way to more familiar surroundings—the trees less dense, the light filtering through the leaves more naturally. Elena's heart lifted when she realized they were nearing the barrier and her cottage.