Mist opened his eyes after the first decent rest he'd had in months. He tried to wipe his eyes clean from the remnants of his sleep, but he found his arm was trapped behind a still-sleeping Liz, her warm body curled into his.
He began to remember what had happened as the drowsiness cleared: after her meltdown, he had embraced her in an attempt to comfort her, nestling her body against his side. They must have fallen asleep...
Panic began to rise in his throat as he realized the repercussions of their nap. Dawn must have been only an hour or so away, and the Eyyliks would be approaching fast.
He shifted away from her and jostled her, trying to rouse her. "Liz! We have to get moving!"
Her eyes blinked awake in annoyance. "What?" She drowsily uttered.
"Liz, come on! Get off me! We fell asleep!"
He saw the realization enter her eyes and they widened in fear.
Scrambling off of the ground, she looked around as if expecting the Eyyliks to come running out at them.
Mist rose from the ground, groaning at the ache in his back and legs from his position overnight. He scooped up Liz's bag from the ground, grunting slightly at it's remarkable heft, and passed it to her. She hurriedly flung it on her shoulders, still glancing around nervously for any sign of their pursuers.
Mist looked around on the ground to see if there was anything he missed as Liz impatiently tried to drag him away. Pouting, he noticed the last small chunk of bread he hasn't eaten last night discarded in the dirt. Lamenting his dinner's fate, he allowed the nervous girl to drag him away from their accidental campsite.
"You still owe me an explanation," Liz stated as the sun rose in the sky, it's light distorted by the rolling clouds.
"Huh?"
"I told you about my magic," Liz explained, "so now it's your turn."
Mist smiled and shook his head, rolling his eyes. "There's not much to explain. I don't know much about it myself."
Liz bounded forward and turned to face him, walking backwards a few steps ahead of him. "Then tell me how you lost your arm."
Mist stopped walking in mid-stride, frozen as if struck by a spell. Liz's mischievous smile faded away as she saw the look of panic and pain cross his features. "Mist?"
Mist closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, continuing his slow walk forward. "I can't."
Liz looked away, feeling guilty for trying to force such an emotional story from him, and turned around, walking normally again.
Mist clutched his shoulder as he shuffled ahead, his head hanging as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. They continued walking in silence until they found their way to a small creek off-shooting the river.
"If we follow this," Liz said, kneeling down beside it and dipping her cupped hand into the clear water, "it'll take us back to the river, and we can go back to the capital that way."
Mist watched her as she let the water pool in her hand and drank it, smiling. "It's good!" she exclaimed.
Mist laughed. "Then drink up! We should get moving again soon." He jumped up onto the crook of a tree nearby, nestling comfortably as Liz guzzled water. A small sound caught his attention, and he listened closely for any signs of danger. Dismissing it as a squirrel or some other creature startled by their presence, he leaned comfortably back and closed his eyes, enjoying the sounds of running water below him.
"Mist!"
He opened one eye lazily as Liz addressed him. "Aren't you gonna drink?" she asked, beckoning him to join her.
Mist waved his arm dismissively. "Nah, I'm too comfortable. I could really use some breakfast, thou-"
He was cut off as an arrow whistled towards Liz's thin form, embedding itself in her hip. He jumped down and ran towards her as she screamed and fell, her legs giving out from the pain.
A large horned figure burst from the bushes nearby, wearing heavy chain mail armour and brandishing a huge axe. He rushed at the startled Mist, poised and ready for an attack.
Mist glanced over at Liz as she broke off the arrow shaft, giving a scream of pain as she did so, and discarded it nearby. Without his arm, he couldn't carry her away from the Eyyliks, and if she couldn't walk...
His mind raced as the Eyylik closed the distance between them. 20 feet. 15 feet. 10 feet...!
The twang of a bow echoed throughout the forest and the Eyylik tripped, falling forward to tumble in a heap near Mist's feet. Jumping back, the amputee looked around for the source of the arrow protruding from the Eyylik's spine. He could hear movement and sounds of fighting in the forest around him.
"Mist..."
The sound brought him back to the situation at hand, where Liz lay on the ground, blood flowing from between her fingers. He knelt down beside her. "Liz, are you-"
"I'll be okay." With one hand still holding her wound, she grabbed Mist's wrist with her other hand, dragging it over to where the arrow pierced her. "Push down."
"But-"
"Just do it!"
He agreed, pushing down on her wound around the remainder of the arrow shaft. She let out a small whimper of pain as she removed her hand from it, reaching for her nearby rucksack.
A scream of agony rang out in the forest nearby, causing Mist to shudder. He glanced around the forest, hoping to find the source of the sounds, and spotted a large cloaked figure through the trees, approaching slowly.
Nervous, Mist closed his eyes and began to recite the prayer to Iana, gathering the magical energy around them and turning it into a thick fog.
"Mist!"
He opened his eyes in time to spot the Eyylik join them in the clearing. He stood nearly 7 feet tall with wide, well-muscled shoulders typical of his race. Age lines marked his scowling face, showing experience. His curled horns rose from his bald head, the right one displaying a large crack across it. His dark skin was marked with black tattoos, a series of lines running down his face like warpaint. His red eyes, characteristic of the Eyylik race, seemed to glow slightly as he approached the two sorcerers, carrying a mace and shield at the ready.
Mist watched the Eyylik approach like he was the god of Death himself, his eyes wide and terrified. His mind raced, trying to think of ways out of this situation. The figure was too close to hope that a fog would help any, and Liz wouldn't be able to walk as she was.
The Eyylik approached with a scowl, and Mist was powerless to stop him.
The large warrior raised his mace and shield...
... and dropped them on the ground nearby, kneeling beside the injured girl.
Mist was stunned and confused, not understanding why their enemy would help him. He could see Liz relax as the Eyylik spoke in low tones to her.
"Relax, Mayyha, you will be alright." He turned to look at Mist, his eyes still glowing strangely. "Move your hand, Balghra, and let me see."
Still in confused shock, Mist did as he asked, removing his bloodied hand from around the arrow shaft, eliciting a groan from Liz. The Eyylik placed one hand carefully around the arrow shaft, pressing down, while his other hand slid fingers down the shaft and into the wound.
Liz cried out in agony and Mist finally shook free of his shock. "What are you doing?!"
"I am removing the arrowhead, Balghra," he responded, not looking away from his task. "You are lucky I came. You need two hands for this task."
Mist's eyes narrowed in distrust and anger, but he backed down, standing and looking around the clearing. Liz's and the dead Eyylik's blood flecked the grass crimson, forever staining the area as a battlefield. The mace left discarded nearby was caked with blood and matter beginning to dry, and the shield had an arrow sticking out of it along with a streak of blood. The sound of the babbling brook and the hushed whispers of the Eyylik and the young healer filled Mist's ears as he looked around for other signs of their pursuers. He found none.
Looking back to his injured companion, he breathed a small sigh of relief seeing the remainder of the arrow shaft safely removed. The Eyylik now worked under Liz's careful direction, using some kind of earthy paste to seal the wound. Mist found himself impressed at Liz's constitution. Despite the obvious pain she was in and the amount of blood she had lost, she was remaining calm and sane enough to tell the Eyylik how to help her. He briefly wondered how many times she had to heal herself with that same strength.
Liz caught him staring and smiled weakly, trying to tell him she would be okay. He smiled in response, hoping she was right.
Before long, the Eyylik had finished. Stroking her hair, he whispered to her softly as she closed her eyes to rest. Mist strained to hear what he said to her that made her relax, but couldn't make it out.
The Eyylik stood up, cleaning up the stray supplies and shoving them into her rucksack. Mist approached him, trying to look as intimidating as possible.
"Eyylik," he began, still speaking in hushed tones to avoid waking the sleeping Liz, "what do you think you're doing?"
"Saving a life." The Eyylik didn't even look up at the amputee as how bent low to pick up a small vial of herbs.
Mist stepped really close to him, still trying to be intimidating. "Eyyliks don't save our kind."
The Eyylik hesitated for a moment before pulling himself up to his full seven-foot height. He looked down at the Sorcerer unimpressed, his red eyes still glowing slightly. "I believe 'Thank You' is the correct response, Balghra."
The Eyylik had stayed crouched for so long, Mist had forgotten how tall he really was. He scoffed and broke eye contact, swaggering away from the larger man. "Fine," he admitted. "Thank you."
The Eyylik smiled wryly. "Relax," he said, retrieving his mace and shield, "I'll be gone soon, Balghra." He examined the drying blood on his mace with a frown.
Mist looked at the unlikely ally in confusion. "Who are you?" he asked, "and what does that word even mean?"
The Eyylik shouldered his shield and attached his mace to his belt before answering. "My name is Vyre. I have spent seven years trying to help your kind."
"Why?"
"My reasons are my own."
Mist shrugged his one shoulder awkwardly. "Fine."
Vyre brushed past him, walking back to where he first entered the clearing. He hesitated at the treeline for a moment, looking back at Mist. "Take care of her, Balghra."
"Seriously, what does that word even mean?"
Vyre smiled evilly, revealing his pointed canines. As he picked his way through the forest and away from the two Sorcerers, his deep voice echoed back to Mist. "It means 'half-man'. One who is not whole."
Mist's mouth hung open in disbelief as Vyre's form disappeared into the thick undergrowth. "I'm more of a man than you'll ever be, Eyylik!" He shouted his retort angrily, his words echoing off the trees slightly.
The sound made Liz stir behind him, and he immediately regretted being so loud, not wanting to wake her. His anger abated, he hung his head and absentmindedly clutched his left shoulder where his arm should be as the Eyylik's final words echoed in his head. Not whole.
Mist scoffed, shaking his head. Why did everyone have to see him as that? Weak. Helpless. Incomplete. Not whole. Why could they not see him as he was?
Strong. Smart. Kind. Those were the words that were once used to describe him. They never once described him as 'complete' or 'whole'.
So why is he suddenly 'not whole'? Why is that they only way people define him now?
He shook his head to clear it, breathing a deep sigh. He looked over at the sleeping Liz, looking so peaceful despite the day's ordeals.
Well, maybe one person doesn't define me as 'not whole', he thought to himself with a smile.563Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡylgo7lQ6bl
