It was a long, painful walk back. In truth, home was only a short distance away, but it seemed like it was miles before they made it and it was only Sariel's panicked insistence that she not leave him that kept her from running to fetch a healer. His bleeding had stopped, at least, the wounds clotted, but he was still at a high risk for infection if they weren't cleaned and tended soon. And then there was the scarring...
Sariel had called her an 'ox' before and she had hated it, hated how it reminded her that she wasn't some slender, dainty thing like she always wanted to be, but right now she felt grateful. She was strong from years of hard work and able to support the boy who barely had strength to support himself--and who felt far too light and fragile. Spirits, she didn't know what he'd been through, but if she ever got her hands on whoever had done this to him, she'd break them, and that anger lent her strength.
As soon as they stumbled into Sariel's home, she was barking orders to the staff. "The master's hurt! Someone fetch a healer, now! You!" She pointed to a servant. "Fetch some clean water, bring it upstairs. Quickly, now!" she ordered, and then began the arduous process of dragging him up the stairs. She'd done it before what seemed like only days ago, when he'd gotten drunk out of his head.
It took some skillful maneuvering, but she finally got the boy to his bed and laid him carefully onto his belly, then sat beside him and pet his hair, moving it to the side so it wasn't touching his back. "We're gonna getcha fixed up," she murmured, trying to soothe him. It wasn't her forte; they were usually screaming at each other. But she hoped the intent came through. "You're gonna be okay. We'll fix ya up, alright, so just rest. You're safe here."
