Chapter Eight: Chrysanthemum

My eyes fluttered open. The room was poorly lit-or perhaps dimly lit would be better. My shoulder burned. I heard coughing.

I turned my head over to one side. My muscles ached. I must have strained myself. The old man was slunched over in a chair.

I then realized I was on his bed.

I tried to sit up, but a gentle, though firm, hand pushed me back down.

The girl was there. Herbs were boiling over the fire.

A pan filled with a light red liquid was beside the bed, and heaped just beside the pan were many crimsoned cloths.

"How bad?"

My voice,tired, suprised me as well as my hostess.

"It was deep." She walked over the the rags and held up a long ivory dagger.

"His teeth was embedded in your shoulder. I've stiched it up since you were out."

My right hand reflexively ran along the crossworked stiches. Sure enough. It burned.

"I'm making some food. You'll be staying here for a while. At least a week."

She had her back turned again.

"What of the wolf?"

She shook her head.

There was a long silent pause. I was about to ask how she was when she resumed a different line of thought.

"A man visited."

She looked back to see my reaction.

"He was very polite. Said it was a shame to see you injured like this. He had some papers."

Guilden.

"He said his name was Guilden."

I pushed myself up, grunting.

The old man stirred from his stupor and rapped me with his cane.

The girl nearly dropped a bowl of soup that she had just ladled.

"Are you daft? You're hurt. Don't move so much."

I pushed my legs over the side of the bed to a sitting position.

Another rap form the old man. I shot him a nasty look.

"My papers, please. I need to go."

She looked over to the next room.

"Get them yourself." There was a hint of anger in her tone, mingled with indifferrence-merely a facade. She was concerned.

If she wasn't concerned before, now she was. I rose and took one step for the doorway, when my legs gave way and I collapsed to the floor, sputtering and panting, amazed at my lack of physical strength.

"I drugged you. Sorry...you seemed lik the kind of oaf to blindly march back to battle."

I struggled to push myself back up. The bed was too high, so I settled for the floor.

Drugged. How had I not know? I must have been asleep when it happened. I'll blame the loos of blood for that one.

"What kind?"

"Nothing special, and nothing you need to know. I opened the papers. The Magistrate of Westerhaven has been murdered. You're a suspect. Also, besides this wolfman of yours, theres talk of some dark figure in town." she turned to face me again. Her green eyes glew against her shadowed face."You just bring in all the freaks don't ya?"

I was tired and lost in thought.

"Please, just....I need to fix all this."

She walked over and brought herself face to face.

"I have the antidote. I'm not going to give it to you. You will stay disabled until I see fit. You lost too much blood. You're ghostly white, and you've been agitated since nighttime."

Nighttime? The moon. The bite. The pain. The trouble. Simple fears. The wolf lived. I had lived. its bite burned a frenzy, a moon frenzy upon me, and it must have been by her herbalistic art that I had resisted the infuriating disease.

"you're not bad with a bow..." Conversation was the only thing keeping me up.

"Thank you."

We remained silent as she feed the old man. She put a bowl beside me.

I looked at it for a while.

"no drugs?"

"No drugs."

After finishing the bowl, I grabbed for a pillow.

Might as well get cozy if i'm gonna be stuck.

"Kinningson right?"

Her voice seemed calm. Her anger had passed.

"Yah...yours?"

"Chrys. After the flower...Chrysanthemum."