The Legend Of The Cursed King

Chapter 3

Maeve's heart pounded in her chest, torn between the instinct to flee and the moral responsibility that tugged at her conscience. She couldn't deny the fear that coursed through her veins as she looked at the vicious man who had been stabbed in the stomach. The knife protruding from his wound was a grim reminder of the danger he posed.

In her mind, she weighed the options. Running away might offer temporary safety, but it would also leave her with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. The wilderness was unforgiving, and without supplies or a safe haven, she would be exposed to even greater perils.

Yet, her benevolent nature prevailed, urging her to consider helping him. A glimmer of hope sparked within her, the belief that her kindness might diffuse his aggression and possibly lead to a resolution that didn't involve violence or further harm.

Swallowing her fear, Maeve took a tentative step forward, her eyes fixed on the injured man. Her bag, still within reach, remained untouched. For now, her priority was to assess his condition and offer whatever aid she could provide.

As he fell to his knees, his pain evident, Maeve's heart softened. She drew closer, trying to steady her nerves as she observed the blood that stained his shirt and spilled onto the ground. The severity of his injury was undeniable, and it demanded urgent attention.

Instinctively, Maeve reached into her bag and retrieved a clean cloth and a vial of antiseptic. She carefully approached him, mindful of his potential hostility, but also determined to do what was right.

"I can help you," she said, her voice steady despite the uncertainty that swirled within her. "Let me clean the wound and bandage it. It might help stop the bleeding."

Her offer hung in the air, the moment pregnant with tension. She knew that he might react violently, but she hoped that her genuine concern for his well-being would resonate with him. Maeve understood that in the midst of pain and desperation, even the most ruthless souls might yearn for a glimmer of compassion.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the silence broken only by the soft rustling of the surrounding trees. Maeve's heart pounded, awaiting his response, unsure of what awaited her on the precipice of this critical decision.

He slightly nodded and slowly she kneeled in front of him, careful so as to not injure her knees any further. She slowly put her hand on his which was resting on the ground between them, before saying, "Your injury is very serious, we need to treat it immediately or else it might get infected. I know some first aid and I have some stuff. I can help you." She said softly, to reassure him that he would be fine.

Maeve helped him lay down on the ground and used her bag as a pillow.

Maeve had been forced to work at the hospital a few years back when the doctor was pregnant, she knew what to do in such situations.

"Okay," she paused and lifted her eyes from his abdomen to meet his stare. "I'm gonna pull out the knife, and then I'll sanitize the would with an antiseptic. After that I'll stitch your wound and you'll be as good as new. Okay?"

He nodded.

She brought her hands to the knife and just as she was about to pull it out, she heard his objections.

"Wait." He croaked. She froze and looked up at him. Before she could ask him why he stopped her he continued, "The knife is made of silver, it will burn you as soon as you touch it and you're already hurt. The blade was coated in wolfsbane and ataxia, and my wolf is terribly injured. I won't survive this. It's best if you use the limited supplies on your injuries." He said, pointing at her injured hands that were now hidden under gloves.

She smiled at that, he cared about her. "I'm not a werewolf. I'm a witch, silver doesn't hurt me. You're going to make it through, don't worry."

"Yes, but ataxia will hurt you."

Her smile was replaced by a frown, as she said, "I'm a magic-less witch, I don't have any magic. Ataxia doesn't work on me, either."

Ataxia was a deadly venom for witches. If they touched it, they would lose their magic. The Clan had tried to use it to hurt her hoping it might awaken her magic but it hadn’t. But Maeve didn’t have any magic, so it didn’t hurt her. But their rude remarks and attitude hurt more than Ataxia ever could.

She waited for him to tell her to get away from him, and how he didn't want her help. She waited for him to laugh at her like everyone else did when she told them she was a magic less witch but he didn't. Instead, he said, "If you're sure that it won't hurt you any further." He sounded genuinely concerned for her safety.

Maeve was shocked and surprised and she wanted to cry because no one had ever just looked past her magic-less existence. She wanted to hug him but she knew now was not the time. He was bleeding to death. She would have time for that later on.

She quickly pulled the knife out and pulled up his shirt. She poured antiseptic on the wound and cleaned up the blood on his stomach. She then stitched his wound and wrapped a bandage around it. Once she was done, she gave himself sweet smile, "All done, you're going to get better in no time. Stay here, I'm going to go look for something to eat." Before she left she took off one of her jackets and helped him put it on. She then gave him her favorite blanket, which she had in her bag. She didn't want him to catch pneumonia.

She wandered deep into the cave and what she saw made her realize that she had made it to the right place. She was in Alice's cave chambers.

There was a mattress in the middle, a few shelves made out of stone on the end. A kitchen filled with groceries and even a bathroom. The hacwell* was in the corner, they must have forgotten to turn it off when they left the mountains. Everything worked on magic, and was in perfect condition even though it had been a long time since anyone had been here. They must've forgotten that the things worked on magic and left it as it was when they left.

She rushed back to the man to tell him the good news.

"You won't believe this," she said as she approached him. He opened his eyes and looked at her, waiting for her to complete her sentence. "There are cabinets filled with food, a hacwell to keep us warm, even a mattress. As soon as you're a little better we'll move there."

He nodded. Maeve had noticed that he didn't like to talk much or maybe he wasn't talking because he was injured. Needless to say Maeve didn’t enjoy the silence, it scared her. She didn’t want to go and sit in the warm and leave him here, in the cold. But it was too soon to move him, they would move tomorrow. She discreetly moved a little close to his warm body.

Alareyn didn’t quite understand the young witch. She had helped him even though she was injured. No one would have done that for anyone else, especially not a stranger. She had fallen asleep beside him and was shivering from the unforgiving cold. He moved closer and pulled her under the blanket, wincing in pain as he did.

He couldn’t believe that he was finally free. He didn’t know how much time had passed but he knew it was finally time for his revenge. He hoped for a speedy recovery and the quick return of his wolf. He hated being weak.

*hacwell is a space heater that works under a spell.