Chapter 5: Bloody Situation

Chapter 5: Bloody Situation

Before I’ve even reached the top of the tree, he’s already bashing it again. The entire tree shakes and pine cones fall down onto the ground. I lose my footing as the tree slowly begins to fall. My hand slips and I tumble onto a pile of leaves and pine cones. There’s a loud crack, whether it’s my spine or the pine cones is uncertain. It takes me a second to get up. Miraculously, my bones aren’t broken.

‘Time to be squished’ the large man says.

Luckily, he doesn’t notice Toric’s standing behind him. Toric neighs, and the man turns around. My knife is thrown deep into his neck, and Toric kicks him in the face for good measure. He stumbles backwards, collapsing onto the pile of leaves. He seems dead, but his angry grunting removes me from my dream. He takes the throwing knife into his hand and walks towards me. I take a nearby hedgehog and throw it at his face. He screams in agony as the spiked creature punctures his skin. With a quick swipe of the blade I open up his belly, revealing his intestines. A second strike rips open his thigh, causing him to fall down. I end his suffering by slicing his neck open as wide as I can. The warm blood covers the bark of the trees, his intestines are soon covered by all sorts of insects, feasting on his corpse.

Toric casually walks back to the trader’s house. The pain becomes more severe with each step he takes. I’m on the brink of vomiting when the building finally comes into view. Toric’s head goes up as he neighs out of joy, almost head-butting me in the face as he does so. I pat the side of his neck.

‘Thanks, buddy’ I say.

Toric neighs loudly, but there’s no response. Everything becomes hazy, and it’s unclear what’s going on. Toric bows down slightly, making it easier for me to get off. He guides me to the door and I push it open. There’s a small trail of water and blood leading to the bedroom. My hand reaches for my sword, ready to face whatever is going on behind that door. I fling open the door, unsheathing my sword as I go. Elizabeth is lying on a blood covered bed. My friend is sitting next to her on a chair, his hands and arms are bloody. They’re both alive and well, looking at the tiny child that lies in Elizabeth’s arms. My mouth can just about form a smile, before I pass out from blood loss.

‘Is he okay?’ Stan asks.

‘He’ll be fine’ she sighs.

My headache calms down as a cold, wet cloth is applied to my forehead.

‘Oh Shane, what have you gotten yourself into?’ she asks.

I try to apologize, but it just comes out as incoherent rambling.

‘This is a very nice arrow’ Stan says. I can’t see anything yet, but I’m assuming he’s talking about the bolt that was stuck in my side. ‘It seems to belong to someone royal’.

‘Thanks for the heads up, you useless twat’ I manage to mumble.

I open up my eyes, and am blinded by the bright light coming from the windows.

‘Where’s the baby?’ I ask. A deafening screech quickly answers my question.

‘He’s in a bed of towels on the chair’ Elizabeth says, ‘Nice and comfy’.

‘I suggested a bed of hay’ Stan follows up, ‘like Jesus’.

‘We’re not religious, you superstitious a*s’ I respond grumpily.

Elizabeth hands me the baby. Slowly, my sight returns and I gaze into the eyes of my firstborn child. Its tiny body relaxes as his little fingers wrap around my nose.

‘Boy or girl?’ I ask.

Stan and Elizabeth look at each other, neither one of them has even a clue. Elizabeth picks him up and checks, making sure Stan doesn’t see a thing.

‘Girl’ She says with a smile.

‘Unlike Jesus’ Stan mumbles, not realizing we both heard that.

‘What should we name her?’ I ask.

Elizabeth puts her finger to her mouth and begins to think,‘I have an idea’ she then says.

The forest seems to be as lively as ever. Birds are chirping loudly, insects are crawling, werewolves are trying to kill me. The werewolf’s claws dig into a nearby tree, splinters fly through the cold evening air. The familiar sound of a sword being unsheathed calms my tense nerves. The only silver knife I have is stuck in a fallen log, out of my reach. I swipe at the monster’s head. It smoothly leaps to the side and attacks me from my left. I pull back my sword and take a defensive stand. Its teeth wrap around the steel of my sword and we fall to the ground together. Warm saliva drips from the crazed beast’s fangs. Its claws try to tear me apart, but the distance between me and him, combined with my leather armour, prevent that from happening. I kick the beast in the chest, followed by an elbow to its head. The beast gets up again, but stays low to the ground, ready to pounce at me. A flask of swirling liquid bounces up and down in my pocket. I swiftly get up again and throw the potion at the beast. The sound of breaking glass is drowned out by the noise of erupting fire. I hold my sword over the flames, heating it up as I slowly walk away. The werewolf is clearly afraid of the fire, but it’s also determined to bite my throat. I lunge forward and swipe at it. It takes him a second to jump away, a second too late. I can hear the hissing of burned hair as my sword cauterises the fresh wound. The beast whimpers, then runs away. There’s no doubt in my mind I’ll face that thing again someday.