The Archer's Legacy-Part Nine

            Lucinda stepped into the deeper elbow of the river with her right foot first. There was only a fraction of the shock she expected from such frigid waters.  Her left foot followed. She stood on a ledge before a sheer drop in ankle high water. Rough winds clawed at her bare skin and grabbed at her hair. She let out a breath a walked into the water.

            The water burned like fire for a moment then was ice cold. The below zero temperature of the creek water sent the cold right down to her core. Lucinda surfaced with a gasp, teeth chattering and rubbing her arms like mad. Wet hair plastered itself all along her back and around her face. She dared a glance down to her left arm and was relieved the bandages Alexander secured held fast. At the very least, the cold numbed the area to a certain extent.

            The archer’s ragged clothes sat, folded, beside of package wrapped in layer upon layer of cloth to protect it from the elements and a hair brush also wrapped for defensive purposes. She waded over to the bundle that was the comb and undid the ribbon that held it all together. The ends drifted down revealing a silver-backing covered with aristocratic swirls, flowers, and butterflies. Light gleamed off in sparks, making it look like something straight out of a fairy tale.

            She traced her fingers over the design fondly. It had been the brush that her mother used to comb her hair in the morning and at night. Lucinda would hum along to whatever song her mother chose to sing that day, swaying to the music. It was too valuable an item to be kept at the house. If it was ever found and raided, Lucinda would come to this place and find it—after upsetting an elaborate array of traps, of course. It was made more difficult this time, what with only one arm, but she pulled through and claimed her prizes.

            Still half lost in thought, Lucinda began pulling the teeth of the brush through her waist length hair, humming a song softly with her eyes closed. If she sat on the ledge and managed to push out the thoughts of cold; it was almost like her mother was right behind her, pulling the knots out of her hair and singing. Waking up early and sleeping late, it had always been done by flickering candle light. For just mere seconds, Lucinda forgot her problems concerning, well, everything. She was able to relax.

Good things could never last forever.

            Lucinda pulled her clean but numb body out of the water. She toweled off quickly and wrapped the towel around her hair to keep it in place. She sighed, pulling the thread that tied the bundle and kept it hidden. The cloth revealed a bright red underneath. She pulled the retched piece of clothing from its cage, unfolding it.

            The dress was nothing too elaborate. Its hem stretched down to her ankles, revealing her bare feet. It had a modest scoop neckline embroidered with gold lace. The sleeves ended just after her elbows, nicely covering the bandages. Strings laced up in the front like a corset, not the best dress for hunting.

            Lucinda sighed again. She despised dresses, but if she wanted to be in town unnoticed by the authorities, then she had no choice. She slipped it on, careful to avoid stretching her arm, which was a trouble with the large pile on her head. The archer could handle the royal guard, an unforgiving forest, and wild animals. Who would have thought a dress would be her downfall? After a few more moments of wrestling with the dress, she was able to get it on so that it was relatively comfortable.

            Rolling up her left sleeve, she slowly unraveled the bandages around her arm.  It stuck in some places and burned heavily when she tried to remove it. She tossed the bloodied thing to the side, purposely avoiding having to look at her arm. Just the small disturbance had caused her a high level of pain, which most likely wasn’t a good sign. She didn’t expect a miraculous overnight recovery but a little relief would have gone a long way. 

            You mustn’t be such a child, she chastised.

            Lucinda wished she hadn’t looked. No, this wasn’t her skin, it was someone else’s. It belonged to someone that had been seriously scarred with both blade and fire. Then she remembered that had happened to her. It was such a contrast to the pale white of the rest of her body; it was so foreign. The skin was covered in black splotches in some places while green and bubbling in others. All sound was put on mute with the exception of her drumming heart. She fell back, still staring at the monster that had consumed her arm over a span of hours.

            Shock. She was in shock. And really, who would not be? Lucinda’s instincts didn’t allow her to stay frozen for long. She knew what this was and knew what she had to do if she wanted to live. The archer ran back to the clearing, not caring that she made the noise equivalent to a stampede of horses. With a hand clutched painfully over her skin, she stumbled back to her hideout.

            Alexander was gone when she arrived. The bloody and shredded remnants of his shirt were discarded by the fire. Lucinda fell to her knees before the leather satchel, hand digging through and searched frantically for the vile that would save her life. Her fingers brushed over something smooth and cold. Lucinda curled a fist around it and yanked her hand out, bringing a few things with it. The corked container contained a translucent yellow liquid, thick like honey. Lucinda gazed at the bottle intently, her brows pulling together in confusion.

            The medicine, she thought, it was green.

            She pried it open with her teeth. The smell of oils, and fats wafted through the air.

            Alexander chose then to walk back, clothed in the new shirt. As loose as it would have been on her, it was bursting at the seams when he wore it. His broad shoulders and muscled arms stretched already thin fabric across his chest. The sight would make any normal girl weak in the knees. He knew it, too. Lucinda didn’t even look up. Tossing the useless container to the side, she frantically rummaged through the bag once more, dreading the worst.

            “Thank you for the shirt,” he said in a weak attempt to attract her attention. It wasn’t something he was used to doing; the girls
normally flocked to him with little to no effort on his part.

            “It would attract unwanted attention if you entered the capital covered in blood.” There was no trace of concern in her voice. She
said, mater-of-fact, “You’ll also have a scar.”

            She sighed, sitting back on her heels in defeat. You nitwit! How could you possibly have thrown your medicine into the fire? Do you have a death wish?

            Lucinda realized she’d been quiet for too long. Alexander stood on her right but she shifted to further block her black skin from view. He noticed her movement and inched around her to see what the girl was hiding. She didn’t look up, instead trained her ears to the sound of his boots crushing the grass. The archer turned again. He would see it with just a few more steps if she didn’t divert his attention soon.

            “The capital is very close now,” she blurted. “You should be able to find your way back without me. Take the horse. It should cut your traveling time in half.”

            He stopped circling and fixed the girl with a cold stare. “You’re hiding something,” he accused.

            “Of course I am. Every human has secrets,” she countered, still refusing to meet his eyes. “You no longer require my assistance. If you were able to get that far out into the forest, then you should be able to get this far back.”

            “You’re going to leave an injured man to fend for himself?” he asked, calmer.

            “Yes, that about sums it up.”

            Alexander huffed. “Well, then may I ask you to walk with me not as a guide, but as a simple companion?” 

            “Take Axel for companionship.” The wolf lifted his head, yawned, and stood to stretch. “I’ve things to attend to.” Lucinda stood, careful to keep her arm from sight, and tossed the leather strap over her shoulder. “Head west and you shall reach the capital’s—,” Lucinda cut off abruptly when Alexander tackled her.

            Her teeth rattled when her head made contact with the ground. Despite knowing better, she screamed out in pain when wayward blades of grass brushed against her arm. She recoiled in what extent she could with Alexander on top of her by stretching it across her chest. The leather satchel was under the arch of her back, making for a very uncomfortable bump. She suddenly took in something other than pain: their positions. Alexander’s hands were on either side of her head. One of his knees was between her legs, pinning the dress’s fabric to the ground. His face was inches above hers and she could feel his hot breath against her cheeks.

            Her eyes widened; at the same time blood rushed to the surface of her cheeks. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest, not from embarrassment. Unable to move, she felt like a trapped animal. She began to panic. Her best asset in a fight was her speed and intellect. She could see a punch coming, dodge it, and toss one of her own before her assailant could recover. Her skills did little here when she was immobile and not strong enough to break away.

Alexander registered their position quickly. He was the one that had caused it after all. He’d been in considerably further compromising positions than this more times than he could count, but this wasn’t the same. He couldn’t place the feeling of warmth growing between them. He couldn’t understand it.

            He also couldn’t understand Lucinda. There was a look of vulnerability on her that he hadn’t expected to see. He didn’t even think she knew what vulnerability was. She’d never shown any before, or much emotion at all. Her cheeks were on fire, the same color as the setting sun. Her face was all his peripheral vision would allow him to see so it was hard to miss. This was completely unlike the girl he’d been with the last couple of days. It seemed more likely that she would brush it off as if nothing had happened.

            “P-Please get off.”

            He did… and caught sight of her arm. Alexander had never seen anything like it before. The black skin had consumed the better part of her forearm, stretching around and stopping right above her elbow. It looked like a monster had died and was rotting on her. It was horrible, but he wasn’t disgusted. He realized that if he denied her request for help, this would never have happened to her. It was his fault.
Even if he had taken her help, he could have gone after the guards instead of her. There were so many things he could have done to avoid this and he hadn’t.

            “You’re hurt,” was all he could say.

            Lucinda stood and took a step back, avoiding his eyes. She kept walking back until her back hit a tree across the clearing. “It’s nothing,” she said quietly. “It is just the effects of something in the blade. Once I get home, I can heal it and all will be good. It will be simple, easy. You needn’t concern yourself with it.” She finally met his eyes and put on a smile that seemed forced. “You must be returning to your home, correct?”

            “But you are in no condition to defend yourself, should the need arise,” he protested.

            “I’m sure I’ll manage somehow without the help of your apparent knowledge of the forest and magical healing abilities,” she replied,
sarcasm dripping from her words.

            “At the very least, take the horse,” he said, giving one final attempt at some agreement.

            “I don’t need it,” Lucinda responded stiffly. “I can travel faster and quieter on foot.”

            During some time, she had retrieved her bow and arrows. The girl turned to leave, still just as graceful even when injured. Like the first time, he didn’t stop her and she hurried out of his sight, disappearing into the trees without another word. The last thing he saw of her was the hem of her scarlet dress before it vanished.