Mist & Moonlight

Chapter 17 | Mending the Broken

The healer's hut was small and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of herbs and smoke. Freydis helped Erik onto the low wooden cot, her hands gentle but urgent as she eased him down. His face was pale, his breaths shallow, and though he tried to hide the pain, it was clear in the tension around his eyes and the way his jaw tightened with every movement.

"Stay still," Freydis whispered, pressing a hand to his shoulder as he tried to sit up. "You'll only make it worse." She turned to the healer, an older woman with weathered skin and sharp eyes, who was already setting out bowls of ointments and clean cloths. "Please," Freydis said, her voice strained. "Do whatever you can for him."

The healer nodded, her gaze steady as she approached Erik, pulling back the blood-soaked cloth that covered his side. She frowned at the deep wound, then glanced at Freydis. "This will need stitching," she said. "And a poultice to keep the infection at bay."

"Do it," Erik murmured, his voice rough. "I'll manage."

Freydis sat beside him, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the damp cloth the healer had left in a bowl of water. "Let me clean it first," she said, dipping the cloth into the water and squeezing out the excess. As she began to wipe away the blood from his side, Erik winced, but he didn't pull away.

"Thank you," he breathed, his gaze meeting hers. "For tending to me."

Freydis's throat tightened, and she shook her head. "Don't thank me yet," she whispered. "You're not out of danger." Her hand faltered as she took in the severity of the wound, the edges of the gash ragged where Arlick's blade had cut deep. The healer reached for a needle and thread, and Freydis braced herself.

"This will hurt," the healer warned Erik, threading the needle with practiced hands.

Erik gritted his teeth and nodded. "I've had worse," he said, his voice strained.

Freydis held his hand as the healer began stitching the wound closed. Erik's grip tightened around hers, his breath hitching with each pull of the needle. She watched his face, seeing the pain he was trying so hard to suppress, and it tore at her heart. She whispered to him, soft words of comfort that she wasn't sure would help, but she couldn't stand the thought of him suffering in silence.

When the last stitch was tied off, the healer reached for a poultice of crushed herbs and smeared it over the wound before wrapping Erik's side with clean linen bandages. "The poultice will help draw out any infection," she said, glancing at Freydis. "But he'll need rest. And you must change the dressing regularly."

Freydis nodded, her hands still trembling as she helped Erik lie back on the cot. "I'll take care of him," she said quietly, smoothing back his sweat-dampened hair.

The healer's gaze lingered on Freydis for a moment, as if gauging her resolve, then she nodded and began gathering her supplies. "I'll leave you some more poultices and herbs," she said. "Call for me if his fever rises."

Freydis murmured her thanks, her attention already back on Erik. The healer's footsteps receded, leaving the two of them alone in the dim room. Erik's eyes were closed, his breathing uneven, but there was a faint smile on his lips.

Freydis felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. "You're a fool for thinking I would let you die," she whispered, leaning closer to him. "After all you've done... you promised you would come back to me."

Erik's eyes fluttered open, and he reached up to touch her face, his hand unsteady. "I'm here," he murmured, his gaze locking onto hers. "And I'm not leaving."

Freydis took his hand in both of hers, pressing it to her cheek as she fought to keep her composure. "You need to rest," she said softly. "I'll stay here and watch over you."

He nodded, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids. "You... you shouldn't worry so much," he whispered, his voice fading. "I'm stronger than I look."

A small, breathless laugh escaped her, and she leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Yes, you are," she whispered. "But you don't have to be strong right now. Just rest."

As Erik's breathing slowed and his eyes closed, Freydis sat back, her heart aching with a mixture of relief and fear. The battle had been won, but there were so many uncertainties ahead. She glanced at the bandages wrapped around his side, knowing that his recovery would take time—and that there were still those who might see his victory as a threat.

But for now, Erik was alive, and that was enough. She would tend to his wounds, watch over him as he healed, and pray that the gods continued to favor them. She had already lost too much; she would not lose him as well.

Freydis settled beside the cot, her hand resting lightly on Erik's arm as he slept, her gaze never wavering from him.