Walker held off on using the ACTIVE! ability because the screen told him nothing about the skill. So he decided to keep it in his back pocket for now.
He continued to hobble along, wincing often.
Watching the step counter slowly increase was a mind-numbing torture, so he unshouldered his bow.
It appeared plain, but sturdy. While Walker had expected something like a bent wooden pole with a bowstring, this bow was nothing of the sort.
The body of the weapon was constructed of different shades of dark colored wood in alternating stripes. Wrapped with a soft hide just slightly under the middle, the bow was well-made.
The notches holding the bowstring at each end was formed of a deep-seated groove coated in a firm rubbery material to keep the string from causing unnecessary pressure and strain along the grooves.
Walker reached across his waist and pulled an arrow from the quiver at his right side with his left hand.
Examining the arrow, he could see it was a hardwood of some type by the pores and obvious vessel structures in the wood.
The fletching was delicate but firmly attached. Uniformly-shaped feathers of different colors formed a straight angle to the shaft of the arrow.
The arrowhead was a flat broadhead style with the barbed ends extending back nearly the full length of the metal base attaching the broadhead to the shaft.
Walker had some trouble nocking the arrow in place and lamented that his body seemed to have no muscle memory.
He managed to fit the arrow to the string and then tested the tension strength with the bow pointed downward.
Walker drew the bow and aimed out away from the column at a nearby tree with a large knotty growth on its side.
Walker was surprised at the strain on the muscles in his back and released the arrow.
Lightning fast, the string popped forward with a twang, followed by a loud pop.
Walker roared in pain. His right arm felt like a part of it had been sliced off.
The arrow shot forward, missing the tree entirely, but Walker didn't have the presence of mind to notice because he had suffered a string slap.
A balding man nearby chuckled and shifted the bow on his shoulder and moved through the crowd to walk next to him.
He gingerly reached forward. "May I?" He asked.
Walker, feeling a bit embarrassed nodded gingerly. He didn't feel any malice from the guy.
Holding his elbow, the older man examined the fresh bruise on Walker's arm that was roughly the size of an orange.
Hissing slightly under his breath. He let go of Walker's arm and opened a leather bag at his side.
The older man rummaged around a bit before nodding and pulling out a wide and lengthy scrap of leather with several leather thongs stitched through it.
"You can have this, it'll protect your arm the next time you start shootin'." He said quietly.
He handed it over to Walker before he muttered something. "Well then. That's a stinger you got there. Easy to tell you haven't used a bow much."
Walker nodded, taking the tube of leather. He slid his arm through it, covering him from wrist to elbow.
He struggled to tie it one-handed before the older man, seeing his plight, showed him how Walker could pull the laces tight with one hand and then loop them through a flap on the bracer one-handed.
Pausing for a moment, he considered what to say next before settling on a proper introduction. "My name's Walker. What about you?"
The older man looked over at Walker. There was a melancholy in his dark brown eyes as he scratched idly at his short dark beard and answered. "Wilford."
Going out on a limb, Walker asked him "Could you help me with my archery? Maybe some tips?"
Wilford faced forward and kept walking for a few moments before he shrugged, answering.
"Sure. I can help you a bit. But, you're gonna have some trouble keeping up with your feet in that state."
Frowning for a moment, Wilford added "You definitely won't be able to shoot your best like that. We need to make sure every arrow we shoot counts."
Walker nodded in resignation. "We've been walking forever and it seems like we aren't going to arrive anytime soon."
Walker sighed loudly in exasperation, explaining, "I stepped on a caltrop. It's burning inside already, I'm aftaid it won't hold up."
Squinting, Wilford looked to the royal carriage plodding along, now further ahead of the archers in the column.
He nodded to himself absentmindedly and then strolled ahead with purpose.
Walker felt unsure about whether he should follow Wilford or not, and opted to try and do so.
He wasn't able to push through the crowd as efficiently and his foot injury throbbed so painfully that he was forced to abandon the effort.
After the attempt though, his speed was now slower than before, despite Walker doing his best to put the weight on only the side of his foot.
Suffering, he slowed even further. Many people now passed Walker by, even young children and the elderly.
[INCREASE YOUR SPEED AND REJOIN THE MAIN COLUMN]
"I can't, damn you! I'm injured!" Walker growled under his breath.
Moving faster caused Walker a great deal of stress, but he did his best.
Though people still passed him, he reduced the speed at which he was moving toward the end of the convoy.
After a few moments of trying to work his way forward, he saw Wilford appear in the crowd ahead, dragging behind him an exasperated-looking woman whose dense brown curls spilled out from under a blue cowl etched with golden-threaded symbols.
Wilford brought the woman over and pointed to Walker's feet.
"Those are injured. Can't tell how bad, but how is a scout supposed to scout with injured feet?"
The cowled woman frowned and eyed Walker up and down, thinking what, only she knew.
"Won't you use some healing on 'em or not? What use is a Walker who can't walk?"
Wilford asked impatiently as he gestured with his arms spread out to the sides.
The woman eyed Wilford with some skepticism, clearly unsure what he meant. However, after thinking a moment she looked at Walker directly in his eyes.
Walker stared back, thinking to himself that the woman was pretty in a stern sort of way.
The cowled woman, who was looking deeply and unsettlingly back at him, suddenly nodded twice, almost as if in agreement with his thoughts.
She stepped closer and said in an accent so lilting and musical that it took Walker a moment after she spoke to piece together exactly what she had said:
"I suppose I ca' spare a mina' healin' fer wanna our wan younger scouts."
Wilford snickered, shaking his head. "You don't have to put him down like that. He's made it this far already. Walking seems better than dyin', in any event."
The cowled lady arched an eyebrow at Wilford and said "I didna insult anyone. He's wan like a newborn bae, needing the mother's milk."
Walker, hearing the discussion about him, tried to interject at this point to insist he wasn't a baby. However, the part about mother's milk inadvertently caused him to have a stray thought that was better left unspoken.
Walker found that his eyes were suddenly drawn to the cowled woman in a fashion she likely might not appreciate as he studied her intently.
It was only a brief glance really before averting his eyes back to the cowled woman's face.
Walker's heart stopped in his chest as he found her side-eyeing him with a smirk. The cowled woman found his sudden distress amusing and giggled throatily.
Wilford spit off to the side. "There ya go again. Calling a young man weak or wan and then laughing at him."
The cowled woman snorted and waved Wilford off, "I already said I dinna cast any insults. Look'it 'em, pale-wan as iffin he's seen a ghost, or summat he shouldna, buh no matta'- I've got the cure for what's ailin' 'em."
Smirking, she stopped walking and pulled Walker to a stop as well.
With some trepidation, Walker looked to the sky, but the oppressive voice wasn't forthcoming.
The cowled woman lowered her head and looked downward until her face could no longer be seen.
Walker could hear her whispering quietly while
she held her fingers contorted in an odd shape.
The hair on his body all stood on end and he was distracted from the cowled woman by a strange vibration deep in his chest and abdomen. Walker's lips suddenly felt numb and he tasted a mix of copper and citrus in his mouth.
His eyes were drawn back to the cowled woman, whose hands were beginning to glow with a golden light.
She lifted her head and looked at Walker, which caused him to cry out in shock as the whites and pupils of her eyes were completely golden.
She thrust her glowing hands toward Walker and spoke in a voice that suddenly didn't match her.
Booming out in an odd mix of masculine and feminine, the cowled woman's voice echoed: "Become whole! Life overflowing!"
The golden light rushed out away from her, amorphously stretching through the air to Walker, before seeping into him.
The shock of the healing was intense and forced Walker to squeeze his eyes closed. The energy rushed through his entire body quickly and forcefully.
Walker's body was too delicate and sensitive, with the rushing vitality causing him to cry out in pain when the potent energies flowed through his skull and directly over his brain, causing his mind to blank for a second.
Gasping for air, Walker looked around, gingerly running his hands over his head. He watched the cowled woman lower her hands and look at him expectantly.
She nodded to herself as if what she already seen was to be expected.
Surprisingly, all the pain in Walker's feet and legs was completely gone. He curled his leg up and grabbed his foot, while standing on one leg.
Walker was able to examine the healed and scarless skin of his foot through the hole in his boot. The flesh was whole and unbroken.
Taking a few steps, Walker noticed that all of his fatigue and soreness was now completely gone.
Walker grinned and bowed from the waist. "I am Walker Tonlevar, I owe you a great deal, Miss…?"
He left the unspoken question hanging.
Breathing a little heavily, the cowled woman smirked and replied while eyeing Walker openly. "Aye, ya certainly owe me fer tha', 'twas harder work than I thought."
Eyeing Walker critically, she then greaty surprised both men by dropping a bomb.
"Can ya tell me how ya got such a nasty Mark of Darkness on ya soul? It's recent, life-threatenin', and powerful 'nuff to cause great difficulty for you if not addressed."
"Walkin' may be betta' than dyin' but you're onna timer as it stands anyway and ya could die at any point."