Chapter 5: Wake up and try again

Death wasn’t quite like Morgan expected.

Mostly the part where he could still feel and think. 

His mind was fuzzy, his body felt stiff, and when he crawled towards the thin beam of light near him, he fell. 

It was a short fall that barely hurt, but it was a good sign. 

Small or not, if he felt pain, then he definitely was still kicking, somehow.

Morgan stood up carefully, his hand went to his side, expecting a burst of pain that didn't come, only the feel of cloth wrapped around his abdomen. Flashes of what occurred to him went through his mind, both the injury and the blood loss. Yet, despite that, he found himself alive and conscious again, but in an unknown place.

Looking for answers, he found the light’s source was the crevice of a closed window. A moment of blindness followed as he opened it, and the light from outside vanquished the darkness around him. 

Morgan looked around. He was in a small room. Everything, from the walls, roof, and floor, as well as the scarce furniture, were wood-crafted. And looking outside the window, he could only see trees. 

Slowly, he stepped outside, careful of any sudden attacks. He found no signs of civilization. It was truly just him and that cabin in the middle of a forest.

So where was his savior?

The answer came a second afterwards.

"So you are already walking around?" Morgan looked behind him. When he couldn't find anybody, he looked up instead. 

Someone was sitting on the cabin's roof.

He recognized her immediately. "The huntress," Morgan muttered.

"That's what you call me?" She tilted her head. "Better than forest witch, I guess." She stood up and jumped from the roof. She landed nimbly in front of Morgan. And suddenly her face was excessively close to his. Red eyes examined him. "Feeling well? Any pain?"

"No. I'm fine," he said nervously, a fact that was weird in itself, taking a step away. 

"Is that so? You really heal quickly," she commented, before stretching a hand to his side.

“Hey!” He moved away again, shocked by her carelessness. “Careful, please.”

She clicked her tongue. "I am. If you were bad enough to feel pain for just a touch, you wouldn't be walking around. So stop being a baby and take those bandages off by yourself, then. I need to check everything looks well." Morgan was uncertain. "Unless you want me to do it after all?"

"I don’t!" He exclaimed as she tried to touch him again. "It's just, maybe it's not proper for a young man to expose himself before a young woman like this," he said, phrasing it in the most delicate way possible.

Which only made the huntress snort. "I took care of you while you were unconscious. There's little about you I haven't seen already, or do you want me to go into detail-?"

"I'm getting the bandages off, ma'am. Please forget I said anything." Whatever consideration he was trying to give clearly wasn't appreciated, so he skipped the pleasantries.

Taking off the bandages revealed a big scar on his side. "Looking well, it may even fade a bit with time." Her eyes looked up to his face. "Not sure about that one, though."

"Eh?" Remembering that Sol had kicked him with his armored boot, Morgan touched his face in search of anything wrong. "What is it? I don't feel any different."

"It's just a small scar through your eyebrow, you don't look any worse."

"What a relief. No, wait, do you mean I already looked bad before?"

"Not more than everyone else." She shrugged, clearly unconcerned.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Stop worrying, you don't look that different from when I first met you. Actually," she stared at his face again, her interest making him shiver a bit, now that he wasn’t distracted by his potential desfiguration, "you may even look better now, Carn."

"Carn? Do you refer to me?" he asked, feeling confused. 

She sighed. "I didn’t mean to say that. You need to understand, you were a mess when I found you. Frankly, it was surprising that you were still breathing." Hearing that made him sweat coldly. It felt awful to realize for real how close he had been to his death. "There was little I could do besides keeping your wounds clean and wait. You have no idea how frustrating it was.” Despite her words, she sounded more annoyed than empathetic.

The huntress grabbed something that rested against the cabin's wall and extended it to him.

It was a cross, made from wood, the word 'carn' carved on it.

"That's you." He stared in confusion, so she elaborated, in a bored tone, "I had no idea about who you were or if you would really survive. So I made that in advance and put a name that I thought would suit you. A nameless grave would be a sad thing."

That was nice of her. But also a grim admission that he wasn't sure if he needed to know. Besides, being buried under a grave with the wrong name seemed sadder to him.

"My name is Morgan." Wondering if it was a good idea, he extended his hand to her.

Despite her face being hidden, she somehow looked almost offended, as if now she was obligated to give her name out as well. "Feyan." 

It was a beautiful name. One that sounded strong, too. But maybe it just seemed that way because it belonged to her. 

When he thought she wouldn't shake his hand, she gripped it with a surprising strength. "A pleasure, I guess," she said, before freeing his hand. "So."

"So?" he asked, opening and closing his hand; it ached a bit.

"You are fine. As healed as you are gonna be." Feyan walked towards a clothesline and took off a shirt hanging from the string, throwing it at him. It was the shirt he was wearing the night he was injured. All the blood stains were gone, but he could notice the part she stitched back together. "So, what now?"

Having put on the shirt, he took a moment to think about everything that had occurred and where to go from there. He reached only one possible conclusion. "Did you maybe find my sword?"

Feyan stood still like a statue. "Excuse me?"

"My sword.... I mean, it wasn't mine." Feyan's eyes narrowed, so he added, "it was lent to me. And I'm not sure what happened to it after... well, you know."

"Sorry, but I found no sword with you." She shrugged. "I can lend you a dagger, though. You need to give it back, of course." Her tone was stern. Apparently, she didn’t have the best impression of him. 

"That would be nice," he nodded nervously, approaching as she extended a dagger with the handle towards him.

But as he was about to grab it, Feyan moved her hand away. "But why do you want it?" She interrupted him before he could speak, "sharp weapons are always nice to have. But you either want it for protection while you return to your home, wherever it is, which would be the smart choice. Or, you need it because you are going back to the town looking for a fight... That's the dumb choice. So which is it?"

He sighed. "The dumb one."

He almost thought she would hit him. "Why would you want that? You almost got killed there already. You want them to finish the job that much?"

Despite her keeping the dagger out of reach, Morgan closed the distance and gently grabbed it. "I promised I would help someone. I can't just abandon them."

They stared at each other, the intensity behind her red gaze increasing and making him wonder if he had committed a mistake. But suddenly, Feyan dropped the dagger in his hand and backstepped. "Alright."

He looked at the dagger. It wasn't exactly his type of weapon, but he would make it work somehow. "Thanks." He gave her a little bow and was about to turn around when she grabbed his collar and pulled him closer.

"'Thanks'? And you are going to leave just like that?"

"S-sorry?" He wasn't quite sure of what was the protocol while parting ways with the person who saved your life. He wasn't even a knight or anything. he couldn't swear his life to her protection or anything like that, could he?

"You don't even know the way back to the town." She got him there.

"Would it be too much of a bother if you could guide me...?" As her cold eyes stared at him, Morgan immediately added, "please? I know I'm asking too much when I haven’t even thanked you properly for saving me, but I can’t just leave. Not when that kid needs me."

Feyan sighed and unhanded his collar. "Don’t thank me. I didn't even do that much. It was mostly you being a tough bastard. But if you go out there and actually get yourself killed like an idiot, I would feel bad. So you win. I'll give you a hand this time." He stopped himself from saying 'thanks' again and just smiled instead. Feyan just shook her head. "Let's stop dilly-dallying, already. You are already a week late to save whoever was waiting for you; better not to waste more time."

Morgan nodded, feeling some energy revigorating him. "Yes. Let's go-" he stopped. "Wait, a week what?!"