C A S C A

Chapter 7

The ride is long and I take no breaks. I want to get as far away from any knight's path as possible. The swordsman has only spoken a few times to either tell me to slow down or take a break, all of which I ignored. What can I say? I'm too stubborn to take orders.

We're riding between tall thick trees when I suddenly feel the arms around my waist move lower, his palms resting on my inner thighs.

I jump and jab my elbow into the chest resting on my back, "what the hell are you doi-"

He grunts and suddenly a heavy weight falls on my shoulder. I look over to his resting head and groan.

He passed out.

I pull onto Casca's reins, slowing her down to a halt. From the corner of my eye I spot a dark and empty cave hidden between the trees and a small river. That's perfect. I direct Casca into the cave and as soon and I dismount her, heavy droplets of water begin to fall from the sky.

"Dammit," I mutter to myself and quickly get the swordsman and the frail man onto the cold ground before running outside and quickly grabbing any large leaves that I find.

I'm drenched within minutes and I have to shake the wet leaves before placing them onto the ground and dragging both men onto them. The old man seems to be dead asleep and turns on his side to be more comfortable. The swordsman, however, doesn't seem to be as peaceful.

His face is scrunched in pain and I'm suddenly reminded of his injuries. I begin to strip him of his armor, setting it beside him. When I begin to bunch up his black tank top to bring it over his head, my hand is immediately soaked with something wet. I draw my hand back to see it's covered with blood.

I pull off the sticky fabric from his chest and gasp. Deep gashes made by what I assume was a whip, covers every inch of his skin. I gently touch his chest but he grunts in pain and I draw my hand back. I grab his bloody shirt and head outside, the rain drenching me again and leaving me chilled to the bone. I crouch beside the small running river and dunk his shirt in it, scrubbing it clean. It's still night so I can't tell how clean I got actually got the shirt, but I decide after what feels like 10 minutes that's it's as clean as it's going to get.

I head back inside and roll my wet sleeves, "this is going to hurt, Swordsman..."

----

Light cracks through the entrance of the cave and I realize it's already morning. It also stopped raining. The entire night was spent cleaning the Swordsman's wounds. I didn't get any sleep but neither did he. Thankfully his wounds have been cleaned and it shouldn't get infected anytime soon.

I sneeze.

I suddenly realize I'm still in my drenched clothes. I have to change out of these clothes or else I'm going to come down with something worse than just a cold. Other than the tanktop the swordsman was wearing, he also had a black t-shirt on that didn't seem too shabby.

I look over to the old man who's still fast asleep and facing the other way before glancing over to the sleeping swordsman who's lying on his back. I purse my lips in thought, if he were to wake up while I'm changing... I shake my head and brush away the thought. After all the agony he was in last night, I'd be surprised if he'd be able to regain consciousness after a week.

I undo my breastplate and stretch, my shoulders thankful that I've removed the heavy weight. When I'm left to remove my clothes, I take a glance towards the sleeping swordsman before turning around. I strip off the wet fabric from my legs and throw them on the ground which land with a slap. I do the same with my shirt and a cold breeze blows through the cave, making my wet skin shiver. I should probably dry off before putting on new clothes.