Fields of Crimson

Aftermath

She sat upon the small bed in the corner of her room, dress still covered in mud, and head still red from the blunt thing that she had been struck with just an hour before. With her father furious, yet concerned, she pondered her options while she awaited the town apothecary's arrival. Although Akhira had told him several times that she was alright, her constant dizziness and nauseousness had given him reason to call for someone to take a look at his daughter. The blonde's skirts were caked with dried mud and her forehead was pulsating with the rhythm of her heartbeat. Her father rapped his knuckles gently against the door to her room and proceeded to enter, eyeing her with worry in his eyes. "She's here," he lowered his eyes and stepped inside, holding the door open for the woman who followed close behind him, "she's going to look at that bump you've got there.." Although he was angry about the entire situation, he didn't want to put the blame on his little girl. As a stern man with fair skin, dark beard, and same eyes as his daughter, he looked as if he were some grizzly on the outside and a teddy bear on the inside. The woman who followed had sharply cut cheekbones and thin lips that were stained with the effects of potions. Her eyes were dark and hidden by a hood that covered the most of her neck and face. The cowl only revealed her pointed nose and pale cheeks. Her robes were as dark as midnight. Despite her appearance, she smiled and offered a generous arch of her brows as she pulled away her hood to expose a head of finely braided white hair. "Relax, child. You have gone through a traumatic experience. Lay down please." Her voice was raspy and light, like most of the older women in the village.

Without a word, Akhira did as she was instructed to. She laid back against her sheepskin pillows and let out a rigid sigh of anxiety and vertigo. The woman proceeded to examine her head and other vitals, only giving her a small concoction that she had made when she had heard of the prior incident that had caused this. She drew a vial from her satchel and popped it open, dabbing some of its contents on her thumb. It was a red paste that reminded Akhira of the blood she had seen on the floor at the dog's paws and inches away from her own nose just a few hours before. The woman rubbed it against her now terribly bruised temple and further down her cheekbone, for she had fallen onto the side of her face when she had hit the floor. Her father waited patiently and watched with skepticism. Although he did not want some joke of a healer helping his daughter, he didn't have any other ideas or methods of healing, himself. This was the only way. Soon after the potions ingredients started to kick in, the blonde was lulled into a deep sleep, where she would rest for several days.