Heart of Ash (The Dark Arcane Series: Book 1)

Chapter Twenty Six

"Well, will I survive doc? Or will the leg have to come off?"

Her side ached as she rasped her question but she refused to mention it because she'd already been given a liquid to numb the pain.

The Ender glared at her—or so she assumed since she couldn't see past the black mask he still wore.

Ashyn strained her neck to observe the bandaging he'd wrapped round her thigh and her abdomen and nodded, jutting her lower lip out, impressed. She'd been patched up many times and this was decent. A leader and a healer. Interesting.

It'd been three days since the massacre of the traffickers at the campsite, and she'd only just woken up. She didn't use the word massacre lightly—she remembered the bodies, strewn across the grass like twigs, blood caking the grass.

She wished she could have seen the others in action. Moons, that would have been a gods damned sight to behold.

"No, you won't lose the leg," the Ender sounded tired. "Though sometimes I think you should," he added in a mutter loud enough for her to hear.

She rolled her eyes, but winced at the pressure in her head.

The leader of the Shadows and herself had come to an unspoken agreement. She couldn't explain it but she liked the way he talked; he felt... comfortable.

"You came close though, he could have struck a major artery, or the bullet could have been embedded in you. As it happens, it looks like the bullet just scraped you, and should heal if you don't stress it and keep it clean."

"And this?" From her position lying back on the ground, she gestured vaguely to the mess of her abdomen that was covered in several layers of bandages. The pain still radiated from there but the liquid shed chugged down earlier did seem to numb the pain a bit. It was either that, or the pain was so bad even her brain had blocked it out. Honestly, she felt a little like she'd just had some smokeseed.

He huffed and she knew what that meant, had seen that face on healers before. "I'm afraid that's a little more difficult. He ripped through quite a few muscles there, it won't heal well at all. It'll scar badly. You'll need to stay lying down for a few days, don't stretch it at all—do you hear me? No exerting yourself. At all. If those stitches rip, it'll be a hell of a mess for me to clear up."

She didn't mind scars. They weren't pretty but if she was alive to see them and ponder on it then that was good enough.

She stared at the Ender. He was the leader of the Shadows, feared and respected, and he had yet to scold her. Sure, she'd only just woken up, slightly dazed and exhausted but she had ears that worked. Meredith would have reprimanded her thrice over already.

She was the one who failed to subdue Vic One when she had the chance, she should be getting berated, not special treatment.

She replayed the fight. She shouldn't have let him grab her ankle when she kicked, she should have been quick enough to avoid him.

Unbidden, the memory of terror replayed too, of how she lay bleeding out on the floor with him over her, and the prospect of a future of a slave. Back then, she thought she was being a survivalist, adapting as the environment did, but now all she remembered was the panic she'd felt, how it had choked her.

She shoved that feeling down. Somewhere deep in her fragmented soul with room to spare. Guilt helped no one. It just meant you suffered twice. And she preferred her suffering to be more of the physical sort.

"Most importantly, keep both wounds clear of infection, if you get ill I'm not sure what I can do for you," he finished.

She nodded, just glad to be awake.