Tragic Innocence

Chapter 12: The Promise

            The howling of a lone wolf tore Pentulla from a dreadful abyss of sleep.  A chilled breeze cut through her easily as she sat up with a pounding headache.  “Oh,” she moaned as it ferociously throbbed.  Her hands shot up and caressed her temples softly.

            “Where am I?” she murmured as she looked around through the thick darkness and could see nothing at first.  But why was it so dark?  Mikash had always left a solitary candle burning for the sake of safety and comfort.

            Then an image of Mikash’s face, bruised and bloody, appeared quickly within her mind’s eye.  “Mikash?!” she bolted up on unsteady feet as her head washed with a void that gripped her consciousness quite abruptly.  She lost her balance and tumbled to the dewy ground.  Her fingers grasped wispy fringes and her knees smarted with the pain of hard objects beneath.  Where was she?

            At that very moment, her memory returned obediently as she groaned with great dismay.  Her muscles’ aches and abdominal pains instantly reminded her of the horrible event just past.  She curled her lip with a shuddering reaction as she could still see Sinot’s twisted and evil face.  Pentulla could still feel their harsh handgrips upon her tender flesh.  She shivered once more as fresh tears burst their way through her misty eyes. 

            Pentulla strained to focus her eyes in the obscurity, barely making out the silenced dark forms of Sinot and his brigands, whose silent forms remained scattered about.  The moons, she recalled, were bathed in blackness this night and the week to come.  Her eyes desperately searched out for Mikash’s body amongst the refuse.  She steadied herself against the nearest tree as she began her quest to. 

            She had remembered that Sinot was nearest to her, and the one called Rohrk had been holding her…the other two were unjustly constraining Mikash’s wilting body while the other, after thrashing him, stood there with watchful eyes.  After locating Sinot and his brutes--she located Mikash’s crumpled shape close by.

            “Mikash!” Pentulla screamed, instantly forgetting her own suffering and darted blindly into the vagueness of the forest.  She dropped to her knees while hot tears poured down her face and splattered down the length of her arms.  She gasped as she gazed at his cruelly inflamed face.  His eyes were swollen shut as deep gashes oozed by his chin…chest--and legs.  She wailed for his spoil as she brought him carefully to her heaving breast, huddling him lovingly and protectively within her trembling hold.

            “Mikash?” she whispered raggedly, her breath grew wild with concern.  “Mikash?”  Pentulla strained as she bowed her head over his face to listen for his breathing as she watched for movements of his chest.  A wave of relief, like the strength of rolling thunder, washed over her taut soul.  His breathing was extremely shallow as was his heart’s life within his neck. 

            After making sure that he was still alive, she decided to quickly inspect the damage inflicted upon his body.  They did not spare him from any pain, did they? she thought with wrath-blended-torment.  He had been brutally battered!

            “Oh--my dear Mikash!” Pentulla brought his head up to her cheek, studying his injured face.  “Why? Why!”  Her hands tightened into fists as she began to shake from immense anger.  She clenched her jaw as she thought back.  It had been her fault--if she had only acted quicker, then they would not have been attacked!

            A lone milkwood candle stood humbly in the bedchamber upon a plain wooden shelf.  Its flame reached longingly to the skies beneath the roof of the cozy home.  Pentulla sat lovingly at the edge of the bed, a round sponge tightly clutched in her hands sopped with blood.  She had cleaned, treated and dressed every single gash, scratch and bruise.  His face was wrapped with a filmy gauze that was lightly soaked with healing herbs.