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Still prodding her horse on as if the creatures were still in pursuit of them, Blume raced towards the city gates. She was surprised to see them opened as they normally closed right before the suns set.
What was even more surprising was the sight of Ealrin and Holve down by the gates. The old man stood over the younger, who lay on the ground on top of a mat that had been produced for him. His shoulder was bleeding terribly from what looked like a horrendous bite. Holve's sleeve was wet with blood as well.
Two men in white robes attended Ealrin, as he looked to be the more grievously injured.
One was muttering under his breath and waving a wooden rod over the wound.
Blume brought Snowy over to the scene and dismounted, nearly knocking Jurgon off the horse in the process. She helped him the rest of the way down before running over to Ealrin and kneeling beside the healer.
“What happened?” she asked breathlessly, looking at Ealrin's face. His eyes were closed and his face was pale. Sweat poured off of his forehead.
“Ran into some Wrents,” Holve answered for him. “One of them got him pretty good. He got a few in return.”
“Wrents?” Blume asked, not knowing what Holve was talking about.
“They look like foxes but walk like men,” Holve replied, a small bit of concern on his face for Ealrin. His brow was furrowed and he kept avoiding looking at Blume. “We heard them while we were on the wall.”
Ealrin still hadn't spoken, but lay on the mat, eyes shut tight. Blume reached out her hand to his forehead. He was red hot.
Dread began to fill her.
“Can't you fix him?” she said hastily to the healer.
His partner scolded her while the one Speaking over Ealrin said nothing but his own words of magic.
“Give him time, young one,” he said with an air of superiority. “No one can heal in an instant.”
“I...” began Blume. But at that moment, Ealrin opened his eyes and looked right at her. She found she couldn't speak.
There was a surging guilt welling up inside of her. The question escaped from her mouth before she could withdraw it.
“Why were you outside the city?”
Holve let out a sigh and Ealrin closed his eyes.
The city of Lone Peak was still bustling around them, despite the late hour. Street vendors were closing up their shops. Shoppers were still wandering around trying to find the last deal of the day. Parents were carrying sleeping children to their houses.
Blume felt as if all the activity were happening on a different planet. There was just her, Ealrin, and her guilt. She knew the answer. The silence between them hung in the air like fog.
“Looking for you,” Holve said finally.
Blume took her hand away from Ealrin's forehead and put it in her lap. She looked at Jurgon, who looked at the ground. Holve wouldn't meet her gaze either.
“We were attacked, too. By Wrents, or whatever you called them,” she said. Her mouth was dry, but she kept talking. “Jurgon and I were practicing. Down by the stream. There were at least a dozen that snuck up on us. They attacked us. We just barely got away. Jurgon was great. He blasted a couple and smashed another with a rock.”
The bare foot on earth reminded her of something.
“One almost got my foot. It took my shoe instead.”
She didn't know what she was trying to say. The words that had flown from her mouth seemed empty. Void of meaning. Like she was trying to justify being out there, or Ealrin's injury.
But it all felt so small. She held one hand in another, fidgeting. Blume looked back at Ealrin. He hadn't opened his eyes.
“Ealrin...” she began.
He shook his head.
She wanted him to say something. To be mad. To be alright. To say anything. But his face grimaced as a faint glow came over his shoulder. His wound was turning an odd shade of orange. Holve put a hand on her shoulder.
“Jurgon,” he said without looking over to the halfling. “Take Blume back to the house.”
She felt rooted to the spot. A small hand reached for her arm and tried to help her up. Holve did the rest. Wordlessly, they turned and began walking down the street towards the house they had lived in for the last month.
Looking back, Blume saw the healer still bowing over Ealrin, the rod he held in his hand glowing faintly. A tear came to her eye and she brushed it away. But as every other step her barefoot hit the cobblestone street, new tears filled her eyes.