It was an awful night. Jemman froze and boiled alternatively. Her damp blanket kept getting thrown off and she had a disgusting gummy feeling in her throat. Despite how miserable she felt Jemman got up and checked her fish trap. Two large, ugly fish were there, so she dragged them up onto a small sandy section. Using her dagger she cleaned the fish up and laid them on some large leaves. Making a small fire she started cooking them over a very rudimentary spit. Then, despite the cold she went and scrubbed herself clean in the bitterly cold water. She had been sticky with stale sweat and couldn't stand it any more.
Later, as she ate the fish she planned out her day. Jemman decided to prioritise her training and meditation over her travel. So finding a secluded spot she started to move her qi, gently flushing out the meridians close to her elbows. As time passed she noticed that her wounds had begun to close a little and the infection that had been building seemed less.
An hour later, she began moving through various sword katas and free marital arts movements. As she finished she realised that she had been too engrossed in herself as two rough looking men were standing near her backpack. One had a well used looking spear and the other had an arrow aimed at her. Both looked like they'd lived rough for a while.
"So Theodore, our little warrior needs to learn to keep concentrating on her surroundings."
"Indubitably, William. Without knowing what's going on around you you will never really be safe."
"Theodore, that is a large backpack for such a small lass."
"Too large, and clearly a burden she shouldn't carry. We could help with that."
"We could Theodore. In fact, we should" said the grinning William.
There was sort of urban civility about the two, but it did not lessen the hardness shown in their world-weary eyes.
Jemman was about to take a loss. So in order to minimise it she put in her best little girl voice. "Please, I know you're going to take my stuff. Would you mind if I got my medicines and some of my clothes? There are also some notes and maps my uncle gave me that hold great sentimental importance to me as he recently passed away."
They let her take her clothes and checked carefully through the herb bag. They decided it was rubbish and let her keep it. After looking through the papers they decided to keep the maps and left the rest with her. They let her keep the colmar deciding it was worthless to them but kept the dagger.
She asked plaintively, "Would you please tell me how far the nearest town is?"
William pointed down the road and answered, "Curth is about fifteen more klicks down this road." Then he started to turn away with her backpack slung over his shoulder. Then turning, he viciously threw the dagger into her guts. "Actually, keep the dagger, dear. It's a reminder that you should pay careful attention to your surroundings. You don't mind do you Theodore?"
"Certainly not William, it looks bogus to me."
Without checking that she was dead they sauntered off laughing.
Despite clutching her stomach in agony she heard one of them saying, "Good haul for a morning's work."
The rope saved her. A deep stab, left of her belly button seeped blood but hadn't hit any vital organs. Taking a clean pair of socks she pressed it into her wound then plastered mud thickly over it. She waited an hour for it to dry and then tied the half of the severed rope around her again. Using the blanket and the rest of the rope as cord she made a simple bag which she sling over her back.
Then, step, by agonising step she made her way to Curth.
Curth was not the kind of place anyone puts on their bucket list to visit. It had a mixed, as in mixed species, population of about four hundred. It was walled and a young dwarf stood guard at a wooden gate.
"State your business" the dwarf demanded in a gruff voice.
"I'm here as a tourist," she said dryly.
It was like making a terrorist joke at the airport. He stiffened up. And moved towards her threateningly.
From behind the gate a deep voice rumbled, "Gimmles, let her pass. What trouble could a little girl on a holiday cause us?"
Gimmles, grudgingly stepped back. "Watch your mouth. Next time there might not be someone to keep it from getting you in trouble."
Jemman walked through the gate and saw an old, one-legged old dwarf wink at her. She gave him a wan smile before asking, "Is there an inn or a healer here?"
"There's a great inn, called 'The Slanting Dwarf'. Me missus runs it. Tell her Cormel sent you and you annoyed Gimmles. That should help her treat you right."
"Thanks Cormel. I could go annoy him more if it will get me a discount."
Cormel barked a laugh. "Better not. She stops serving food in an hour or so, and you look like you need a feed."
She quickly found the inn. The was a picture of a one-legged dwarf. It was the only stone building and had a thatched roof. As she made her way through the door a very, doughty dwarf lady came out.
"Ooh, you poor thing," she cooed with a voice deeper than Cormel's.
Bustling her in she said, "You need a warm bath, a good room and a hot meal. That'll be four silver."
Making a show of looking around the inn and the level of patronage she exclaimed in a horrified voice, "You'd take advantage of a sick little girl? Clearly all can be had for less than a silver." She looked pointedly, again, at the others in room.
The dwarf coughed, then said, "You're so right, baths are seen as an extravagance here. Still, I might be able to afford three silver. It would be nice to spend an hour less scrubbing the sheets when you leave."
When Jemman had got the price down to two silver eventually, she said to the inn owner, "Oh, by the way, Cormel sent me and told me to let you know that I'd annoyed Gimmles."
"You should have started your bargaining with that. You'd already be eating. One silver neat, but you pay for your own drinks."
Jemman paid the money and then chucked her old bag in the room. She quickly made her way to the jakes. As she sat dealing with some quite uncomfortable business she nonetheless thought to herself, "Anywhere with a toilet is civilisation." She looked over at the piece of old scrap cloth she was about to use, "Kinda."