Elara's eyes fluttered open, the dim light of the slave infirmary casting eerie shadows on the walls. Her head throbbed, and her vision was blurry, but she could make out the rough outlines of the room. Panic surged through her as she struggled to remember where she was and what had happened. Her heart raced, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.
As her vision cleared, she realized she was lying on a makeshift bed, the coarse fabric of the blanket scratching against her skin. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Slowly, the memories began to return—the fields, the overseers, the nameless slave. She turned her head to the side and saw him lying next to her, unconscious and pale. Thick bandages covered his wounds, spanning his entire backside.
'How badly did they beat him?' she thought to herself, her heart aching with guilt and worry. She reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch him, to reassure herself that he was still alive, but she hesitated, afraid of causing him more pain.
To her other side, she heard a cough. Turning her head, she saw another slave she had seen around the fields. He looked as if he shouldn't be in the infirmary, his face gaunt and his eyes sunken.
"How long have I been out?" she asked, her voice weak and raspy.
The slave shifted his weight, trying to sit up. "About a day and a half," he replied, triggering a coughing fit. Blood appeared on his lips, and he wiped it away with a cloth.
Elara's eyes widened in horror as she saw the blood. She couldn't stop thinking about the bloody, raw mess she had last seen of the nameless slave's back before she passed out. The image haunted her, filling her with a sense of dread.
Coughing again, the other slave managed to choke out, "I'm Devin."
Elara nodded, her mind still reeling from the shock. "I'm Elara," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Devin shifted his eyes to the nameless slave and shook his head. "I don't know how he's still alive," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and sorrow. "When they brought him in, he was bleeding profusely and unconscious. His back was flayed open, looking like a lump of raw hamburger meat instead of a back with muscles and tendons."
Elara's heart clenched at Devin's words. She couldn't believe the extent of the nameless slave's injuries. The overseers had shown no mercy, their cruelty knowing no bounds. She felt a surge of anger and helplessness, her mind racing with thoughts of revenge and escape.
"Why did they do this to him?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
Devin sighed, his expression weary. "He tried to protect you," he said simply. "When you collapsed, the overseers were ready to beat you to death. He intervened, tried to stop them. They turned their wrath on him instead."
Tears welled up in Elara's eyes as she listened to Devin's words. The nameless slave had risked his life to save her, enduring unimaginable pain and suffering. She felt a deep sense of gratitude and guilt, knowing that he had paid such a high price for her safety.
"I have to help him," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I can't let him suffer like this."
Devin nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "We'll do what we can," he said. "But we have to be careful. The overseers won't hesitate to punish us if they think we're defying them."
Elara took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges ahead. She knew that the road to recovery would be long and difficult, but she was determined to stand by the nameless slave's side, to repay the debt she owed him.
As she looked at his pale, unconscious form, she whispered a silent promise. "I won't let you down," she vowed. "We'll get through this together."