ARC 1: Arrival

Chapter 1.04: Soldiers Woundwort

I can feel my ears flicking around, picking up faint sounds from all around me as I barrel my way through the forest. Branches and various assorted plant limbs that I have to maneuver around and under. I can feel my tail keeping balance as I quickly maneuver my way under an especially low tree branch. Twigs snap underfoot as I run, the sounds of rustling leaves and rushing wind in my ears. Just barely over the wind I can hear the humanesque shouting getting closer. Every couple of seconds the shouting is punctuated by an animalistic roar. Whatever is making those roars must be terrifying, I've never heard anything like it. The thought that permeates through the fog as I run is how primal the humanlike shouting sounds. It's not fearful at all, it's the shout of a warrior. Whatever is roaring, are they fighting it?

As I rush past trees and through the forest, I notice that my stamina is rather good. What should be a pace that would normally wind me easily, I find myself keeping pace. Along with my ears flicking from side to side as they take in all the sounds of the forest, I realize that the forest around me is surprisingly clear. Obstacles ahead become clear to me before I even get close, and despite the haste I find myself able to casually inspect everything I run past. The details are surprisingly crisp, despite how quickly I'm running. I resolve to add my eyesight to the list of features to look over sometime in the future.

As I near the shouting, more sounds become distinct. Along with the roaring are thundering steps, whatever is making those horrible roars is big. Along with the shouts, indistinct human yells become clear. When I finally get close enough to distinguish the words, the clanging of metal emerges, growing in volume as I grow closer.

"It's going to attack!" A voice screams. The sounds of metal stop for only a moment. Through the silence, a thundering crash sounds from not that far away. I continue rushing towards the sounds, tempering my eagerness with caution at the situation.

"Be careful! Don't let it take you off guard!"

I finally pull up on the action, slowing my arrival and peeking at the situation from behind a nearby tree. There are five people standing near me and looking away from me. Their gazes are instead focused on the giant monster in front of them.

The monster looks like a normal wolf, if normal wolves were one and a half times the height of a human, with a size and ferocity to match. I couldn't see it's paws past the people in front of me, but I could imagine what the huge claws might look like.

The people in front of me were wearing a combination of leather armor with metal plates interspersed here and there. A man on the side of the group with pointy ears is wearing a coat that's too long for me to be able to see if he's wearing armor like the others, but I couldn't imagine facing a monster like this without it. The thing that strikes me first about their garments is the medieval feel. If the monster weren’t a dead giveaway that this world is very different from my own, then the medieval weirdos with swords might have.

Everyone in front of me tenses suddenly and my eyes snap to the large wolf. It’s leaned back and tensed; it’s going to attack. Luckily, they seem to be ready for it and one of the people at the front of the group raises a large shield they’re holding and centers themself in front of the group. The rest of the group falls into line behind the shield wielder. The shield is almost as big as they are and it looks like it’s made of some really heavy metals. That thing has to weigh a ton and they’re heaving it around with them.

The attack comes, the wolf leaping the small distance between it and the group. It seems to mistake the shield for a target and claws at the shield with a snarl. The strike impacts the shield and I feel like I can feel the ground shudder under the weight of the impact. The person holding the shield grunts against the impact, their longer blonde hair rustling in the small breeze following the claw. The wolf lets up on the shield and I can see the shield wielding person sag a little behind the shield, catching their breath.

A feminine voice yells from behind her, an athletic brunette with short hair. She runs around the great shield wielder with ferocity, taking a violent swing at the paw with her sword as it pulls away. The sword cleaves into the paw, dislodging itself as the wolf pulls away. The wolf lets out an inhuman growl, limping back a step on it’s good paws. I can hear muttering coming from the pointy eared man as he stands a small ways away from the group. My left ear flicks to his direction and I find myself able to pick up what he’s saying as if it were a whisper.

Whatever he’s saying though, it isn’t a language I can identify. A prayer maybe? I turn my attention back to the other four standing with the shield wielder. The other two sword wielding combatants step out from behind the shielder. The shield wielder pants behind the shield, catching their breath as the other three go on the offensive and the man continues muttering. One of the sword wielders is wielding a sword similar to the first girl that had attacked the wolf, his stature is blocky and I can imagine that he can pack a punch. The second sword wielder is actually holding two swords. Both the blades seem smaller and much lighter than the first two’s, but instead of muscular like the first two, this person seems lean.

They seem to dash out from behind the shield wielder with great speed and agility, maneuvering deftly beneath the wolf on the side with the injured leg. Still injured, the wolf starts to move it’s paw instinctually, but quickly stops in pain. Instead, the wolf attempts to back up, suddenly scared. The person takes the fear as an opening and begins to slash his swords into the still injured paw with ferocity. The two swordsmen leave the side of the shield wielder to assist, their approaches not quite as fast as the dual wielding swordsman.

I notice the coming attack too late to warn them, and the dual swordsman’s shift in posture at the last second doesn’t do much to stop it. They go flying across the opening, landing closer to me, just beside the shield wielder.

“Roarke!” two screams cry out in unison from the sword wielding duo still near the monster. Neither ran to their friend's aid though, instead turning towards the wolf. Galvanized by the fall of their friend, The two cut into the monsters legs. Their hacks become a frenzy of slashes and rushed dodges at the wolf's few clumsy attempts to attack back. I don’t pay them any attention as I rush forward to the fallen swordsman. Their swords were scattered across the ground around me, discarded as their body had grown limp. From where I’m sitting, looking around, I can see that the shield wielder is looking at me in surprise as I show up, carrying their shield over towards me and their fallen companion. The man chanting doesn’t move from his spot, but I could see his head flick over to our position briefly. His murmurs quicken, his murmurs carrying undertones of concern.

“Roarke!” a deep, but still distinctly feminine voice calls out. The shield wielder. I ignore both of them, looking the swordsman up and down. A large gash in their leg draws my eye. The leather armor is torn, blood gushing out of the wound at a worrying rate. The swordsman still seems to be breathing, but they don’t seem very conscious. Shock maybe. I can hear heavy steps arrive beside me, as a shield drops to the ground some steps behind me. The shield wielder is about to rush to their friend when I hold my right arm out to stop them.

“I’ve got your friend. Make sure those two stay safe.” I say, pulling jars out of my bag. The first one I open is the Yarrow. I stuff my mouth with the small white flowers, chewing viciously as I reach around for the moss bottles. I pull out the moss bottles and the suture kit quickly before turning back to the body. Roarke, they seemed to be called.

I pull the clumps of Yarrow out of my mouth and press them into the wound. Yarrow is actually known by another name; Soldier's woundwort. I spread the spit poultice over the deep gash, scooping more Yarrow into my mouth as I do so. The spit poultice shocks me by working almost twice as effectively as I expected it to. The previously gushing wound stops bleeding significantly. As I apply the second batch of spit poultice, the bleeding has slowed to a trickle. The pain must have eased up too, because I can feel the body of Roarke visibly release some tension as I work. I bite my tongue at the reaction, continuing my work.

I’m surprised as I hear a whoosh of air besides me. I glance in the direction of the pointy eared man and am surprised by the glowing energy surrounding him and his hands. I put the spectacle back down towards the bottom of my list of important things to worry about. Somewhat absently, I notice that the shield wielder isn’t nearby anymore. I turn back to my patient, tuning out the sounds of battle behind me.

With the slowed bleeding, I take the time to cut out a section of their pants; the utility pocket knife from the survival supplies section of my kit works well for the tougher leather still making it difficult to reach the wound. With the area around the wound cleared, I pull out some of the damp moss and gently clean around the wound. After wiping away a significant amount of the blood, I’m able to adequately see that the major bleeding seems to have stopped almost entirely. A tiny voice in my mind commented that if I didn’t stitch it and get it wrapped in bandages, it would probably start bleeding again.

With this in mind, I wipe out the bloody remnants of the spit poultice from the wound. Small amounts of blood began to pool in the wound, but with Roarkes eased tension, the blood isn’t rushing like before. I begin to carefully use the suturing kit to stitch the wound closed, occasionally wiping away escaping blood with some moss to keep it as clean as I can. I finish up the stitching, the bleeding has stopped. Roarke is still out cold as I look over the rest of their body. After my initial inspection, I find that they don’t have any other pressing injuries. Just a couple small cuts that I clean. They should heal fine on their own, so I don’t waste the supplies on them. Eventually, I get my bag packed up again. I use the pocket knife to cut a bit off of my coat. About two inches off of the bottom, all the way around.

I use the section of clean cloth to wrap the wound like a bandage. Just something to keep it safe and dry. I wipe some sweat off of my forehead, sitting back down. Good to know that my craft is still useful here. I put the pocket knife back into my bag, allowing my attention to turn towards the slowly diminishing sounds of battle. Just as I turn I find the girl who had cleaved her sword into the wolf's paw, primally shoving her sword into the wolf's neck. The wolf is silent as she does this, already having been beaten to the ground. I can see her eyes brimming with tears as her gaze pulls away from the beast and towards me. Our eyes lock and she startles at the sight of me.

She leaves her sword in the giant wolf, her and the rest of their group rushing towards us. Grabbing my bag, I shuffle away from the body professionally. As the group gets closer, I can see angry glances from the swordswoman pointed in my direction turning to confusion as they see Roarke. The rushed jogs slow to small steps as they approach. The shield bearer, minus the shield, appears to be a rather well built and muscular woman. Now that I can see her properly, her armor hides most of her features in their protections; her face and voice are gruff, but still effeminate. She gives me a couple nervous looks as they all look over Roarke.

“What did you do to Roarke!” the swordswoman says, spinning on me with a pointed finger. I can see her resting her hand on her sword angrily and my tail flicks nervously. I raise my hands in surrender, not wanting to get stabbed.

“I treated their wounds. They had a large gash in the side of their leg that I had to staunch the bleeding and then seal the wound. I cleaned the area so it shouldn’t get infected and then bandaged it.” I say evenly, looking her in the eye. Her grip on her sword tightens and I tense briefly. Eventually, though, she drops her hand from the sword, turning her eyes away from mine. She drops to Roarkes side, looking them over. She seems to raise her hand to their mouth, finally confirming they’re still alive. She lets out a breathy sigh of relief, remaining on her knees beside them.