[Ridge]
Waking up this time puts the Grey Wanderers incident to shame. Getting struck over the head once or twice is nothing compared to having your ankle completely obliterated over and over again. The pain is worse, yes, but that's not where it stops.
The blood loss is dizzying, and the visual makes me want to hurl. I mean forget motion sickness, this feels like my guys want to rip themselves apart, as if the stranger from last night didn't do a good enough job. I'm getting pretty tired of people I don't know trying to kill me. If I'm gonna be constantly attacked and maimed, I'd rather have some epic rivalry with some ex-friend turned villain.
Instead, I have various assholes who feel the need to rob, and torture, and kill me. What I don't have, a super cool rival, and what I'll never have again, a normal walk. At least that's what Raforn is telling me.
"I'm worried it may have damaged your leg permanently, but only time will tell if you'll be able to walk properly again. Luckily, Kadeeth managed to stop the bleeding pretty early so..." he trails off, "Um, Ridge, how are you doing, man?"
I look down at him, avoiding staring directly at my ankle. He's crouched down by my leg, glancing between me and the thick cast of bandages wrapped around the entire bottom half of my leg all the way down to my toes.
I try to manage a reassuring smile, just a small one, but it only makes him look more distraught. Tellur gets up from the hammock he's been sitting on since I woke up, and comes to sit with us on the floor. According to him, I've been laying on this cot pulling in and out of a fever for the past few days. We should arrive at the Nessmore March within the day.
"I'm in the best shape of my life, I couldn't be happier." An awkward chuckle fills the otherwise silent, empty room. They don't join me, their faces full of pity, "C'mon guys, mellow out, I'm the one with the busted leg. Besides, I'm still alive aren't I? Although I probably can't say the same for that fucker that attacked me."
Instead of trying to placate me by agreeing, the two other men share a knowing look. I raise an eyebrow until Raforn reluctantly tells me what all the secrecy is about.
"Yeah, about that. Well, you see, after last time the Wanderers got smart, right? So before they even bothered with the intruder they restrained Kadeeth-"
I feel intensity fill my gaze, "Are you telling me they got away?" Raforn waves his arms frantically in denial.
"NO, no, nothing like that!" He takes an uncomfortable minute to collect himself, "Since Kadeeth didn't kill them, which he obviously wanted to -we should address that by the way-, the GW's apprehended her and it turns out..." he braces himself, "it was another misunderstanding. Just like the night we met them. She didn't mean any harm."
"What?" I ask simply.
Tellur sighs, putting a heavy hand on Raforn's shoulder, "Why don't you take a break, Forn. Go visit our little Noble friend, calm him down again." Raforn hesitates until I nod my head towards the door. Then he's on his feet in a second and out the door.
"Well?" I ask somewhat dryly. I knew Tellur was smarter than he let on. Although I don't think his alcoholism is an act, nor is his puppy dog personality, the look in his eyes has a sharp edge to it right now. Whatever he has to say, it's important.
"Kadeeth lost it, Ridge. He went nuts, just like last time. Sileena's not happy," he shrugs his hands in a 'however' motion, "but, she also helped treat your leg. She knows the extent of the damage, and has decided not to punish Kadeeth, and to continue on with the journey out west."
"Thank the-"
"Not so fast." I pause and stare at him apprehensively, "They know the girl who attacked you." He drops the bomb.
"What?" I repeat.
"She's a looter, well known around these parts for trading people's stolen shit to criminal guilds, goes by the name of Tristan. Apparently they do business with her all the time."
"Don't tell me they let her go or something!?" I whisper-scream, sharp bouts of pain shooting through my battered and bruised body.
"No. She's not locked up though, not like your pet psycho is. She's confined to the boat, if she leaves it automatically cancels all business dealings she has with the GWs. She'll be blacklisted." He explains quickly before I lose my mind.
"Why are they keeping her here if they're not gonna do anything to her or lock her up? Hell, they still plan on working with her!" I don't know why I'm so upset about this. Surely I haven't known these people long enough to feel betrayed.
"That's because Sileena said that you can have your retribution." Oh. She's alluding to that day at the picnic tables. I told her that if Kadeeth acted out again I'd let her decide the consequences. I didn't realize she would extend the same courtesy to me.
"Ah, um, okay. Sorry, for getting so worked up." I start to rub the back of my neck but stop, recognizing Kadeeth's habit.
"It's all good. Any normal person would've dragged themselves to the door kicking and screaming to demand justice. You really have nothing to apologize for, Ridge." He runs a hand over the stubble on his chin, I didn't even realize he shaved his beard off, "Anyways, don't even think nothing about all that right now. Just focus on getting better and then you can deal with the looter." He returns to his normal, teddy bear self.
"I appreciate it, but I want to get it over with as soon as possible, and I need to see Kadeeth." I shift around where I'm leaning halfway off the cot at an awful angle against the wall.
"No way, man. You need rest. You don't even know how much blood and guts and shit you lost during all that." He scolds. I didn't know Tellur was capable of scolding, these must be Raforn's orders.
"I didn't lose my guts." I laugh.
He smiles sheepishly, seemingly just glad that the mood has lightened up, "I don't know. I'm not doctor smart like Forn is."
"Do you want to be?" I ask curiously.
He waves me off, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear to expose his forehead, "See this scar?" He runs his fingers over the nasty healed gash running above his bushy eyebrows, "Back in my day, we thought draining blood helped with illness. I think it's best if an old guy like me sticks to what he knows, fighting." I reach for his hand, giving it a few pats before retreating painfully.
"You don't look like you want to fight. Not to me at least." I offer quietly. He looks at me strangely for a minute, thoughtfully almost. Then he climbs to his feet, his large boots thudding against the old floorboards.
"What do I look like in your eyes then?
"Lost." I think harder, studying his face that I previously thought scary, "And tired maybe." His eyes shimmer before he turns and makes his way to the door without another word.
He pauses only for a moment when I call out, "All you need is a good long nap! Then you can wake up and start over." I'm smiling but he can't see it, because he can't bring himself to turn around.