Instinctively, he grabbed at the sharp pain in his leg, his fingers closing around the small, writhing creature that had delivered a venomous bite.
The sensation was unlike anything he had felt before—searing, almost as if the venom itself was fire coursing through his veins.
Panic surged through him, and with a desperate, swift motion, he hurled the snake against the cave wall. The creature struck the stone with a sickening thud, its body crumpling to the ground.
*Gulp*
'Is there a snake nest here? That knight's reaction… it must be dangerous.'
Lyra's thoughts rang loud in her mind as her eyes darted around the cave, scanning the shadows for any signs of more dangerous reptiles. But there were none in sight.
The knight's face twisted in agony, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He stumbled backward, clutching at his leg as the venom from the snake began its swift, brutal work.
His skin turned pale, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow. His muscles began to twitch uncontrollably, a telltale sign of the neurotoxin coursing through his veins, attacking his nervous system.
Lyra, in other side, stood trembling from the exertion of the fight, didn't lower her dagger.
Her grip tightened instead, knuckles white against the hilt. She watched as the knight struggled to stay upright, his strength rapidly fading.
Her eyes flicked to the snake, now lying injured and vulnerable on the cave floor. It was a pitiful sight, the once-dangerous creature reduced to a fragile state.
Despite the fear gnawing at her insides, she felt a strange, inexplicable pull toward it. She took a step forward, then another, the fear slowly receding with each stride.
"You're hurt," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The statement was meant for both the knight and the snake, though she doubted either could truly comprehend her in that moment. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to remain calm, steady.
Ignoring the knight's weakened protests, Lyra approached the little helper that had unwittingly come to her aid.
She knelt down beside the snake, her movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden action might break the fragile calm that had settled over the cave.
She tore a strip from her clothes and carefully wrapped it around the tiny snake, cradling it gently in her hands.
Turning back to the knight, whose breathing was shallow and face drained of color, Lyra rifled through his pockets. Her hands moved with practiced ease, searching for anything of value. She found a small pouch of coins.
"For the injuries I got," she muttered under her breath, slipping the money into her own pouch.
She had given her remaining coins to the horse's owner earlier, and now she was short on funds. If this man carried money, she had no qualms about taking it—it was only fair, after all, considering what she had endured.
With the snake still cradled in her hands, Lyra mounted her horse, holding the wrapped creature with care. The horse shifted beneath her, sensing her unease, but she quickly calmed it with a gentle pat on its neck.
As she guided the horse out of the cave, she cast one last glance at the knight. His eyes were wide with fear and pain, a silent plea for mercy that she couldn't afford to grant.
'...but that's it.'
Without another word, she urged her horse forward, leaving the knight to his fate as she disappeared into the forest.
* * *
*Uhuk!*
A violent cough tore through her chest, and she spat out a spatter of blood. The metallic taste bitter on her tongue as she leaned heavily against a tree for support.
After what felt like an eternity of riding, she finally deemed it safe enough to stop. The lake she found was vast and calm, its surface reflecting the reddish hues of the setting sun.
Exhausted and battered, she decided to rest.
"This body is really fragile," she mumbled, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand
From beneath her cloak, she pulled out a small bag she had bought that morning, its contents a meager collection of supplies she had managed to gather along the way.
Among them were herbs she had picked, hoping they might prove useful in treating her injuries. She carefully crushed the yarrow, mixing it with water to create a paste with a texture she knew well.
In her previous life, the specialized training she had undergone had included knowledge of herbs and potions. As someone who dealt in poisons, understanding healing herbs had been a necessary skill—a matter of survival as much as anything else.
"Let me see," she murmured, unwrapped the snake. The snake's scales gleamed a light gray, its eyes watching her warily.
'Thankfully, the injury isn't too deep,' she noted, her touch gentle as she cleaned the wound with fresh water from the lake.
She then applied the yarrow poultice, its earthy scent grounding her as she worked, before wrapping the wound in a fresh leaf. The snake remained still, its small, fragile body trusting her with its care.
'Let it rest here, I need to treat my wounds.'
After securing the snake in a makeshift bed of her cape, she turned her attention to her own injuries.
Her clothes were tattered, stained with blood and dirt, barely clinging to her body. She stripped off the ruined fabric, the cool evening air biting against her exposed skin.
Taking her time, carefully applying the clean water from the lake to the cuts on her arm and thigh. The yarrow paste she applied was cool and soothing. With what few resources she had, she secured the wounds as best she could by wrapping pieces of cloth around them.
'Oh my, my new clothes are ruined, covered in blood and torn to shreds. Haha, luckily, I bought two outfits this morning.'
She thought, retrieving the spare outfit from her bag. This time, she chose a skirt instead of trousers, the fabric flowing more freely as she slipped it on.
Washing her hands in the lake, she took a moment to breathe, the stillness of the water reflecting her own need for calm. But then the inevitable question surfaced: 'Where should I go? Should I head back to the town?'
The town seemed the safest option—after all, those searching for her would likely comb through the forest and nearby villages, thinking she had fled into the wilderness.
But even the town had its risks. She gazed at her reflection in the lake's surface, her long silver hair cascading over her shoulders.
'...'
She needed to do something about her hair. Even in a crowd, her distinctive silver locks would make her stand out instantly.
"Should I dye my hair? But for now—"
Without hesitation, she took her dagger and began cutting, slicing away the long strands until her hair was cropped short.
'Yeah, this is the way,' she thought, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction as the last of the long strands fell away.
The change didn't alter her appearance much, but it would allow her to move more easily, and perhaps, just perhaps, offer her a little more time before she was recognized.
And she could search for something to dye her hair with once she reached the town. For now, the cut would have to suffice.
"For now, let's go back like this."
With her bloodstained clothes and cut hair buried in a shallow hole nearby, Lyra readied herself to move on, hoping the forest would keep her secrets safe.