I somehow managed to eke out a small voice in response to the man asking if I was hurt, “I am fine. Just...” I winced at the pain of talking and pulled up my skirt a little to look at the damage. I let out a gasp and the pain seared across my leg as the fabric of my skirt rubbed over the wounds. I wanted to say something even if just an exclamation but my throat was too painful to go on. With all the yelling, it was no surprise how hoarse my voice was.
There was only a small amount of blood. It seems the scratch was not too deep. As I was looking at my injured legs, the man grabbed one of them and brought his face close to it. I let out a small yelp but quickly regretted doing it because it brought tears to my eyes. The man seemed satisfied and grabbed my other leg to look at it. The way he was lifting my leg caused my skirt to slip dangerously high as my thighs started showing.
I hastily tried to pull my skirt down as my face turned bright red. I had never been so lucky that I did not turn green like my mother. As I was fumbling with my skirt the man realized what was happening and hastily put some distance between us. “Your legs seem to be in good shape.” He paused for a moment. Then hastily said, “I mean that they look good. I mean the wound, not your legs. No, that's not it, your legs do look good. I mean the shape is good. The wound not the leg... but the legs have a good shape too.” I felt like my face was burning and the man face was also quite vibrant. He took in a big breath and let out a long sigh. After his sigh he calmly said. “The wound on your leg is not bad and should heal in a few days.” I nodded my agreement to his analysis, trying my best to put the previous statements out of my head.
Since the man had been looking me over I figured it was a good time to give him a good look as well. His looks were nothing remarkable, maybe a little above average, but for what he just did for me I would never complain that he was not every little girl’s image of prince charming. He was well built and had a short and slightly wild beard. Most people would guess that he was a few years older than me. I could not keep a slight smile from my face at this thought.
His clothing was rather rough, made out of coarse linen and animal skins. On his back was a bow and arrows. I was slightly confused why he did not use that to help me. The club he used was a fairly typical throwing club with a big knot of wood at one end, though its handle was slightly thicker than might be expected. He must use it as a normal club from time to time too, I thought to myself.
After calming himself for a moment, he said, “I am glad you are alright. Here, use this for those scratches.” He handed me a small jar. “It’s not much, but it should take the sting off.”
I nodded to him in thanks since there was no way that I would be able to speak more. My throat felt like it was burning. I swallowed some of the saliva that had built up in my mouth and could not stop the cringe that came as the pain radiated from my neck.
“Here, take a little of this.” The man handed me a water skin. As the water washed down my throat it hurt but felt wonderful at the same time. I knew drinking too much all at once would not help. What would be best for my throat was lots of little sips to keep it wet. If I drank to much now I would run out before I made it back to the village.
My voice was not as hoarse as before and I managed to say, “Thank you for helping me. I don’t want to think what would have happened if you did not come.” As I spoke, I rubbed the salve on my scratches. The man was watching intently as I put on the ointment. It was embarrassing to have my legs watched that closely. I coughed hoping that would get him to stop.
It seemed he did not know what he was doing since he seemed to jump and turned red once more. After a moment, he managed to say, “I am glad I made it in time. What are you doing all the way out here on your own?”
“I am an herbalist and was trying to gather some new plants for my business,” I said.
“These woods are dangerous. You need to be much more careful in them,” he said with concern.
“I am new to this town, but I practically grew up in the woods. I have never heard of wolves attacking people outside of years when food is in short supply or when you are near their den. Why were these ones so aggressive?”
“Humans stay out of these woods for the most part. Because of that the wolves have not learned to fear them. The ones right on the edges will be more cautious, but the ones out this far might have only seen one or two humans.” While he was saying that the wolf behind us tried to stand up. It was even more clear, as he tried to move, that his shoulder was broken in many places and would never be able to function normally. The wolf let out a cry in pain and flopped back to the ground.
The man picked up his dagger from where he dropped it by his side and walked over to the wolf. “Sorry for making you suffer this long,” he said while he plunged the knife into the wolf’s neck, severing its arteries.
“Is it alright if I dress this kill before taking you back to the village?” he asked while turning to me. I nodded my consent and just sat there.
It was between a half hour to an hour later that he was done dressing the wolf. I could not accurately tell the time for sure. I was still in shock from the attack. I was having a hard time organizing all my thoughts and senses. There was no way I could keep track of time.
I watched the man work as he bled and gutted the wolf. Even though it was not pleasant work to watch, his strong back gave me a sense of security that I was missing. I have been on my own for more than 250 years. Most of that time I was forcefully on my own, since I could not risk letting others learn my secret. I missed those years growing up with my mother and then with my father, the warmth and safety it brought.
The man finished up his work while I was watching him, lost in my thoughts. When he turned back to me and saw that I had been intently watching him he turned slightly red but managed to ask, “Do you think you can stand up?”
I tried to stand up. It was much harder than it should have been for someone approaching 300 years old. My legs were very weak and shaky. I would likely fall over if I was not using the tree to support myself.
“Just wait a moment. I will give you a hand,” he said while he picked up the wolf and put it over his shoulder. He walked over to me and extended his hand to help me up, but then stopped. I was not sure at first why he stopped, but then I saw him looking at his hands. They were still covered with the blood and entrails of his kill. “Excuse me a moment,” he said. He set down the wolf carcass and hurried off to the stream that I had been following on my walk.
I did not feel I was in any position to complain about his hands being dirty, but I did appreciate that he was cleaning them. A few moments later he came back looking much cleaner. He picked the wolf back up and helped me stand. When I was up, I started to sway on my feet, and he quickly put his free arm around my waist. I was a little shocked. I had never been this close to a man before. I did notice my face heating up a little. But we really did not have any other option, so I was not going to complain. I put my arm on top of the shoulder that he was using to hold me for more stability. From this close I was able to notice the smell of his sweat from all the work he had been doing. Surprisingly, it was not unpleasant, but made the think he was a reliable man.
“What is your name?” I asked. It came out much more curtly than I wanted it too.
“Gray,” he said. “But why did you ask so suddenly?”
“I just wanted to know the name of the person that saved my life,” I said, but for some reason I tagged on, “I also thought it would be good to know the name of the first man to give me a hug.”
I don’t know why but it was oddly satisfying to see that he also turned red as I pointed this out. “I am Emily.” The conversation trailed off for several minutes as we walked. It was starting to feel awkward. I decided to break the tension.
“If the woods are so dangerous, what are you doing out here?” I asked Gray, bringing up our earlier conversation.
“I hunt for a living. It is hard to do that if I don’t go into the woods.”
We walked on for several minutes in silence. I continued thinking of something that was bothering me earlier. “Gray, when you … saved me why did you not use your bow?”
“It is really hard to shoot an arrow while running. Especially through bushes,” he explained. I had no idea what to say after this. And saying anything at all was painful so I did not try to keep up the conversation.
The walk out of the woods was going to take a lot longer than the walk into the woods did. I was much slower. As we continued I started to feel some of the strength come back into my legs. After about an hour I probably could have walked on my own, but I did not leave his side. His arm around me felt so nostalgic. It reminded me of my home and all that I had left. It reminded me of my father who watched over me for all those years. He would often give me hugs when he came home after a hard day's work. I still remember the last time he gave me a hug when I left the village. It was a sweet, loving hug, but sad since I knew it was goodbye. I had a hard time leaving them knowing that I would never see them again, but I had to keep what I was a secret.
As we exited the woods I asked Gray, “Would you mind taking me to my cottage just north of the village?”
“That is not too far out of the way from here. I can take you there.” We continued on in silence for a while. Once we approached my cottage, he said. “You should probably stay out of the woods, or at least only venture much shallower in the woods. These woods are not for those who cannot defend themselves.”
“Unfortunately, I have to go back into the woods or I will not be able to eat.” After thinking for a moment I came up with a solution. “Would it be ok if I accompanied you on your hunt tomorrow? I would be able to gather the things I needed while you did your hunting.” I liked the slight frown on his face while he was thinking. It made him look more attractive.
Gray did not seem sure of the idea. I would slow him down and might make his hunt harder. I could understand his dilemma. “I could cook you dinner to make up for it.”
After another few seconds he seemed to have made up his mind. “I usually head into the woods at sunrise. Would you be able to meet me at the west gate then?”
“Yes, that works just fine for me,” I said as I parted from him and walked into my house.
As I started to make some tea for myself, my mind kept wandering over my time with Gray and the feeling of his arm around me. It must just be the feel of safety after being so scared, I thought to myself.
***
It has been a long time since I dreamt about the day I met Gray. I wonder if it was because Miss Laurel did not want to go to the village, so we went our separate ways. Since she was not here I did not need to get up early to practice. I could stay in bed wrapped in Gray’s arms while he continued to sleep, like I did when we were at home. I really loved the feeling of security that his arms still gave me.
An adorable love story
