Lith's heart was pounding as he watched the mercenary ride towards them, fear etched on his face. As the rider drew closer, Lith could see that he was leaning heavily to one side, and it was then that he noticed the bloody stump where the man's arm should have been.
"RUN!" the mercenary shouted, before suddenly falling from his horse and crashing to the ground, face first in the mud.
Lith knew that every second counted, and without hesitation, he jumped down from the wagon and ran towards the fallen mercenary.
The rain poured down in sheets, drenching Lith to the bone as he ran. The wind howled through the trees, whipping his hair and clothes about him.
Lith could barely see where he was going, but he didn't let that stop him. He knew that he had to reach the fallen rider as quickly as possible if he had any hope of saving his life.
With each step, his feet sank deep into the mud, making it difficult to keep his balance. But Lith refused to let that slow him down. He could see the rider clearly now, lying face down in the water and mud.
As he reached the mercenary, Lith's heart sank. The rider was missing an arm, and blood was pouring from the wound. Lith knew that he had to act fast if he was going to save him.
Lith's hands were shaking as he tried to apply pressure to the stump of the mercenary's arm. Blood was gushing out, and he could feel the man's life slipping away from him with every passing moment. He had no idea what to do, and he felt a sense of panic rising up inside him.
"Quickly, Arin, bring a torch!" Drogan shouted, his voice cutting through the rain. "We need to cauterize the wound!"
Arin scrambled to do as he was told, pulling a flask of oil from his pack and pouring it over a small bundle of twigs. He struck a flint against a rock, and soon the torch was blazing with light.
Lith could hear the mercenary groaning in pain, and he knew that they had to act fast. He looked around, trying to find something that they could use to help stop the bleeding.
"Here, bite on this," Drogan said, handing the mercenary a piece of leather that he had cut from his pants.
The mercenary bit down hard on the leather, and Lith could see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he tried to endure the pain.
Drogan ordered again, shouting through the sound of howling wind, rain and thunder. "Now hold him!"
Niall and Lith quickly move to hold the rider down as Drogan starts heating up his sword over the torch held by Arin. As Drogan worked to cauterize the rider's wound, Lith felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The smell of burning flesh was overpowering, and he had to take several deep breaths to steady himself. He could hear the rider's muffled screams, and it made him feel even more helpless.
After what felt like an eternity, Drogan finally removed the hot sword from the wound and the rider went limp, unconscious. Niall and Lith carefully lifted him up and carried him to the wagon, where they laid him down on a makeshift bed made of blankets and furs. Arin brought over a bucket of water and a clean cloth, which Lith used to gently wash the rider's face.
"What happened out there? And where is the second mercenary?" Drogan asked, his voice heavy with concern.
The sound of the rain beating against the leaves was deafening, making it difficult to hear anything else. Lith turned to Arim and shouted over the noise, "How much longer do you think this storm will last?"
Arim shook his head, water streaming down his face. "I've got no bleedin' clue," he yelled back. "But we can't be sittin' here twiddlin' our thumbs forever. We'll need to make a stop at the nearest village to find a healer and stock up on supplies, by ancestor's beard!"
Drogan watched Lith work, his jaw clenched tight as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. The rider's warning was clear - they needed to move, and quickly. But the other mercenaries were hesitant to leave, unwilling to abandon their missing comrade.
"We cannot stay here," Drogan said firmly, his voice rising over the sound of the rain. "We need to move, you heard the rider."
The other four mercenaries glared at him, anger and frustration etched on their faces. They argued amongst themselves, unable to come to a consensus on what to do next.
One of the mercenaries, a young man with a fiery temper, could not take the indecision any longer. Without a word, he spurred his horse forward, determined to find the missing mercenary and bring him back to safety. He shouted over the sound of the rain that they should continue on without him, promising to catch up with them later.