Merthur

The Saliva of a Sick Wolf

If only one of the wolves Merlin slayed had been sick in any form. Merlin sighed and kept trudging forward in the dark forest. At night, the forest was eerie. It was silent and cold, fog encircling the trees and catching Merlin's enchanted light just right to make it seem like a person or animal stalking him from the cover of the leaves. Merlin jumped as an owl's call rang through the soundless night. He laughed in relief and kept dragging his feet through the sludge on the forest floor. The droplets of rain spiraling down from the sky turned the soil to mud.

Merlin was tired. His jaw dropped in a huge yawn after about twenty more minutes of walking through the woods. He stopped and leaned against the roots of a tree. He curled up in that space and put out his light. He conjured up an invisible roof that rain slid off the sides of and closed his eyes.

When he awoke, the dawn was peeking through the trees, sending slanting rays of golden-red light around the leaves. Merlin got up, standing on his feet and wobbling a little. Sleep was still lingering. He dusted off his clothes and rubbed his eyes, yawning. He then hobbled back along the path he had taken before his sleep. He was moving slowly, but a howl from behind him made him stop in his tracks. More wolves from the pack he had killed?

Merlin spun around and planted his feet, watching a bush that was intensely shaking. He narrowed his eyes until he saw a small golden wolf stagger out from behind the bush. The wolf eyed him with bloodshot green orbs. Merlin held his breath. The wolf turned around and hacked, her back curving up into a huge arch. When she looked back at him, frothy vomit coated her teeth and muzzle. Merlin pitied the poor wolf. The way she looked at him, he knew she was in pain. He could heal her just after he got a drop of her saliva.

Merlin stepped forward slowly, and much to his disappointment, she took a few teetering steps back. He quickly muttered, "Janchela," and she fell on the ground, sleeping. Merlin advanced to her body and carefully pried open her mouth. He took out the glass container from his brown bag and held it under one of her fangs. A tiny droplet of saliva began to form, sliding slowly down the glistening white tooth and into his container. He immediately put the lid on the container and put it in his bag.

He stepped far away from the wolf and murmered some words of healing. She got up, healed, and limped tiredly away. Merlin heaved a sigh of relief and kept walking to the entrance of the forest. It took him an hour to find the leafy cove that arched over the rocks. He eagerly jogged through it and over a few grassy hills. He reached another patch of woods and ran through it, entering another valley. He slid down into his home and fell on the bed, exhausted. He removed his bag from his shoulder and plunked it on the floor. He told himself to only take a small nap, but he woke up the next day.

When he woke, he shot up and slid to the floor. He cursed himself for sleeping so long. He grabbed his bag and checked to see that all the containers were in tact. He then unraveled his sheet of ingredients and looked at the next thing he needed. The bark from a Carika tree. He rolled the parchment again and placed it between the beaker of his blood and the golden petal. He then felt his stomach growling like the wolves he had encountered the day before.

Merlin flipped through the brown and black book again, stopping at a spell said to conjure the food that the caster was thinking of. Merlin checked the spell again and closed his eyes, holding his hands out in front of him and reciting the chant. He felt something heavy in his hands and opened one of his eyes hesitantly. A bowl of chicken stew with a wooden spoon sat in the palms of his hands. He sat on the bed and took the spoon in his hand.

He ate the stew quickly, recharging his energy for his next journey. To the lakeside of Lady Carika's Lake.