Page 44 of Feral Guardian
I roll to the side to see Lily kneeling by the briars, her hands twisting with undulating green magic. The briars contort around her and through the ground. She weaves her hands in complex patterns—runic patterns—and the vines coil over the bear, tightening until the thorny briars are poking into the beast from every angle.
The monster thrashes, but Lily’s transfiguration magic is stronger. She pulls the creature down, swallowing it whole within the earth. The ground vibrates with the wild struggle of the monster for another moment, and then it ends.
Birds chirp in the trees above us and the wind rustles the frost-slick pine needles. Lily pants heavily, her hands shaking.
“I did it,” she whispers.
“Are you hurt?” I ask as I crawl toward her.
“Not badly, but, Alastair, my gods, you’re bleeding everywhere!” She limps over and falls beside me.
Her left calf is rended to the muscle. “You are. Your leg.”
“It’s fine for now. I have a tourniquet. You, on the other hand, are bleeding out,” she says.
Her hands fall on my shoulder to undo my armor. Her fingers work deftly, unhooking everything as if she’d done it a hundred times herself. She has observed me before, but it makes me wonder if she’s ever undone anyone else’s armor. The thought has me angry, keeping me present through the delirium of blood loss and pain.
Green flares in my periphery and the warm, soothing sensation of her healing magic fills me with lightness. I sigh deeply as the pain lessens. My demon soaks up her magic and binds with it, aiding in her healing process.
“I can stop the bleeding like this, but your muscles…I’ll need something else. What runes can I use?” she asks, her voice steady despite her obvious pain and fear.
“I can manage it. You need to heal your leg,” I say, gripping her hand and moving it toward her calf.
“Not until you’re no longer dying,” she says, shaking me off and returning her hands to my shoulder. “Your back is mangled. Roll over.”
Pain radiates up my spine as I twist to the side, turning into her with a groan. Her warm hands fall on my muscles and her transfiguration magic works alongside her royal bloodline healing abilities to stitch my wounds.
I can’t allow her to run her magic dry without healing herself, no matter how horrible I feel.
“Enough,” I say into the dirt after too many agonizing seconds. “You. Now.”
She gives an exasperated sigh, then stretches out beside me. I groan again as I come up onto my elbows, ready to help her with whatever she needs.
“You sound like an old man,” she quips, her face pinched in pain as she prods along her wound with healing touches.
“I’m only nine years your senior,” I say, grunting some more as I come up to a cross-legged seat.
“You sound more likefiftyyears my senior.” She hisses in pain as she gets to the deepest point in the wound. Her blood has dripped into the dirt, and I mix it together into a quick paste.
“Well, you get batted around by a giant demon bear like a cat with a mouse and we’ll see how you sound afterward.”
She chuckles earnestly, and the sound puts me at ease, allowing my rapid heart rate to slow.
“I’d rather not. Getting my leg ripped open was more than enough for me.”
I start the first rune on her kneecap with inverted Nol’Ther’s decay, Ayreya, to ward off infection. She flinches as the cold mud touches her and I murmur an apology.
Her skin is smooth and warm beneath the coarse grit of the mud, and I find myself craving the sensation against my fingertip. I move down her shin with upright Ina and Phi interchangeably with slow, deliberate strokes, each one sending a thrill up my arm to a molten pit of yearning in my chest.
“I should’ve done this for you,” she says, watching me draw the runes with a flush in her cheeks.
I shake my head, banishing my enjoyment. “My magus ability is strong with self-healing, but I’m not of royal blood. I can’t help heal you except through these.”
“Is that why you picked up rune-writing instead of, oh, say, alchemy or blacksmithing? To help heal my foolish arse?”
“Language, princess,” I growl.
“Arse isbarelya curse. Plus, it’s just you and me. Who do I have to impress out here in the woods? Demon bears?” she asks with an impish gleam in her smile.
