Protector

my name is Hunter

I made it all the way to the infirmary tent before I was spotted. The vigil who saw me barely had time to shout before my knife entered his chest, cutting his cry short.
Making my way towards my group, I used the tents and wagons for cover. The others were almost out of the camp and I wasn't that far from where they stood. Stopping at the edge of the swamp that bordered this place, they turned to scan the surroundings for me. I was close now, but I could feel myself slowing down with fatigue, my back singing in protest. They finally located me and I saw Jaron's face light up.
I was so close to freedom. Free from chains, free from pain, free from this cage I had lived inside for so long. But what happened next, happened so quickly that I barely had time to comprehend it.

An arrow had entered my side, shot from an unseen source, somewhere above. I stopped with a jerk and stood there for a second, consumed more by surprise than pain. Falling to my knees, the pain finally hit me in a wave so forceful I let out an anguished cry that rose above all the other chaos sounding throughout the camp. I pressed my hand to my torso, the arrow obviously buried in deep. I tried to take in a breath but was left gasping and shuddering, deprived of air. My lungs finally opened enough to let in a little oxygen, and I staggered to my feet, looking desperately toward Jaron. He was staring in complete shock and attempting to dismount his horse to come to me. I caught his panicked eyes with my desperate ones and shook my head forcefully. He had to go. He had to get out.

"Go!" I half yelled at him. "Save our people."

Then, gathering as much strength as I could muster, I turned and limped away into the forest, followed closely by Vargan's men. As I disappeared from his sight, I heard him screaming at the rest of our group that he couldn't lose me too. But this was the only way I could get them to safety. He had to understand that and just let me go.

He had to let me go.

This was my duty. I ran for a good while, every step jarring the arrow still protruding from my stomach, tripping over roots, constantly nauseous and dizzy.  And yet, the vigils still followed me. Finally, when I knew I would pass out if I didn't rest, I located a climbable tree and, with great difficulty, managed to quickly scale it and tuck myself into a little nook, listening as the vigils caught up and ran below me. Then, by nothing less than a blessing from the saints, I was finally able to rest. My breathing was ragged and the cuts on my back had evidently reopened. The arrow wound in my shoulder had been bleeding steadily but slowly enough. Still, I worried that if it bled much more, I could fall asleep and not wake up. It was a clean wound, as clean as could be at least, with the arrow protruding out the other side.
Gathering my courage, I grabbed the shaft and braced myself as I broke it in half, drawing it out of my skin. Muffling a scream, I blinked away the stars in my vision. Ripping a piece off my shirt, I wrapped it around my torso, tying it tight to stop or at least slow the bleeding. I leaned my head back against the bark and closed my eyes. Exhaustion took complete control over me, and sleep came almost right away.

When I woke up, I immediately wished I hadn't. My body hurt so much more than it had when I had fallen asleep. With a groan, I slowly sat up, massaging my head and adjusting my eyes to the morning light. After listening to make sure I was alone, I made my way down the tree, falling the last couple feet. My feet on solid ground, I staggered off in the opposite direction from which I had come. I hadn't been walking for long when I started to hear the sounds of fighting from just outside the forest. I stopped within view of the tree line and watched what appeared to be a full blown battle unfold before my eyes.
Judging by the colors of their uniforms, the battle was between Carthya and Mendenwal. Why were we fighting Mendenwal? The fighting had gradually spread into the outskirts of the forest and seemed to be slowing. Creeping forward, I decided to approach a Carthyan soldier on the outskirts and try to get information and possibly some help.

I hadn't gotten more than a few steps before I was attacked from behind. I heard a twig snap behind me and turned in enough time to somewhat dodge the attack. A vigil had somehow found me and had attacked me from behind. Instead of impaling me with his knife, since I had turned when I did, the knife missed my back and sliced down my arm instead. I let out a pained cry and fell backward over a log, knocking the air out of me. My vision blurred at the impact and I gasped, trying desperately to back away from my attacker, but I couldn't move.

I had nothing left.

All I could do was weakly watch as he bent over me, raising the knife to plunge it into my chest. I was only sorry that I wouldn't get to see Jaron again, or even know if he got out alive. Then suddenly, the vigil above me made a choking noise. I forced my eyes to focus on him. A sword had impaled the vigil from behind, protruding from his chest as he sputtered and twitched. Then he keeled over, dead.

A boy in Carthyan colors of about seventeen or eighteen stood there, holding the sword that had saved me from a terribly painful death. He knelt by my side and quickly scanned my body as he looked for injuries. I let out a raspy cough and he raised his eyes to meet mine.

"Where are you hurt?" he whispered.

I moved my eyes to look at the slice on my arm, and then to the arrow wound in my stomach. He ripped a piece of his tunic off and bandaged my arm with it. Then he moved to the would in my side. Pulling up my shirt, he removed my haphazard bandaging job. By the increase of worry in his face, I knew it must look as bad as it felt. The boy hastily bandaged it too.

"What happened to you," he muttered, not as a question but as a statement.

After finishing, he held the canteen to my lips and I desperately drank the rest of the cool liquid.

"Thank... you..." I weakly murmured.

He smiled in response. "My name's Roden."

I opened my mouth to tell him my name but hesitated. I wanted to trust him so much, but I had to be careful. Noticing my hesitation, he nodded.

"I understand. You don't have to tell me."

I was growing fainter by the second. I'd pushed myself way too far this time. Roden seemed to understand and moved to pick me
up.

And I let him.

Partly because I wouldn't have had the strength to resist, and partly because some part of me truly felt safe in his strong arms. It had been a long time since I let myself be weak. Resting my weary head on his chest, I made the risky decision to could trust him.

As the darkness took over yet again,  I whispered, "Hunter. My name is Hunter."