Valen stirs after what feels like hours, the ache in his side a dull throb but manageable.
His eyes blink open, adjusting to the dim light in the tent, and his gaze immediately falls on Eska.
She's laying down next to him, covered by the same sleeping bag as his, her body completely still. He frowns, a wave of unease washing over him as he places a hand on her arm.
"Eska," he murmurs, his voice rough from exhaustion, but she doesn't stir.
He tries again, gently shaking her, his heart quickening when she remains unresponsive. "Eska, wake up."
Her face is pale, and though her breathing is steady, the sight of blood on her shoulder sends a pang of worry through him.
Panic edges into his voice as he leans closer, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. "Come on…" She stays motionless, leaving Valen helpless as he grips her hand, trying to keep himself calm while his mind races.
Eska draws in a slow, deep breath before murmuring weakly, "What…?"
Valen exhales heavily, the tension draining from his body as he leans back against the pillow beneath him.
"You almost gave me a heart attack," he says, his tone a mix of relief and lingering panic. After a moment, he adds, "We need to take care of your wound. I'll need to move you, so it might hurt."
"It's been hurting," Eska mutters, her face contorting as she shifts slightly.
"Well, brace yourself," Valen replies, his voice softening. "I'll manage for a bit. Just take care of your bleeding."
Eska turns her head slightly, one eye peeking up at him. "I'm going to let go a little. You tell me where to stop."
As she moves, pain spikes through Valen's side, sharp and immediate, making his muscles tense as he groans involuntarily.
Eska freezes, then turns her head back, her voice calm. "I think we can stay like this a bit longer."
Valen clenches his jaw as the sharp pain slowly begins to ebb, his breathing steadying with each deep inhale.
Valen speaks softly. "At least let me take care of you. It's getting colder, and you're losing blood."
"I left the medical kit outside. I guess we can do that, but it's going to hurt either way. It's easier to keep you together when you're not moving or too far away."
Valen forces himself to his feet, his movements slow as he fights against the ache in his side, and he makes his way out of the tent, glancing up at the stars above him.
He spots the medical kit and crouches down, carefully opening the kit to ensure its contents are intact. Satisfied, he picks it up and heads back into the tent.
With a quiet sigh of relief, he straightens, his gaze drifting back to Eska as he prepares to help her move.
Valen crouches beside Eska then slips an arm under her shoulders.
She winces as he lifts her, but he murmurs quiet reassurances, guiding her to a sitting position.
Once she's settled, he grabs a flask of water from the supplies, unscrewing the cap and holding it out to her. "Drink," he says gently.
Eska hesitates for a moment before taking it, her fingers brushing his as she raises it to her lips.
"I'm going to need to remove your top to take care of the wound." Valen swallows.
Eska cracks one eye open, glancing at him with a faint smirk, despite her exhaustion. "Don't peek," she mutters weakly.
Valen sighs, shaking his head as a soft chuckle escapes him. "I wont. Though that's the last thing you should be worrying about right now, Eska," he replies, his tone carrying a hint of warmth.
Valen moves carefully as he begins to undo the torn and bloodied fabric of her top. He works slowly, ensuring he doesn't aggravate her injuries further, his gaze focused entirely on the task.
As he peels the cloth away from her wounded shoulder and back, he pauses, taking a moment to examine the gashes in the lamp light. The damage is severe, but he pushes down his concern, setting the fabric aside and reaching for the medical kit.
Grabbing a cloth, he dampens it with water and begins cleaning the area, his touch firm but as gentle as he can manage.
Eska hisses softly in pain, her body tensing, but she doesn't pull away.
As Valen removes the dried blood, his eyes catch the faint, jagged scars etched across Eska's back. His breath hitches as the particular set of marks draws his memory back to the wendigo hunt, the night he'd first found her.
Without thinking, his hand brushes over one of the scars, and Eska flinches.
"Ah! that's…not where the cut is, is it?" she asks nervously, her voice tinged with unease.
"N—No! I was just…wondering! About your scar," Valen replies, just as nervously, then quickly follows up, "The wound is deep but it's not out of control."
Eska slowly glances over her shoulder toward Valen, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Hmm," she mutters softly.
Valen averts his gaze, heat rushing to his face, but he quickly refocuses on tending to her wound.
He cleans the wound thoroughly, then reaches for bandage patches and binds the wound tightly to stop the bleeding.
"You have to let go, Eska. You are running low on blood. You can't keep using magic," Valen says firmly.
"I can handle it, keeping my blood inside is something I've had to learn," she replies. "Besides, it's not the first time I've had injuries this serious…or the second…" She pauses. "Or the third," she adds with a wry smirk.
Valen raises an eyebrow. "What were you even doing in that forest to end up like this multiple times?"
Eska chuckles softly as Valen covers her with a blanket and helps her lay back down.
She then continues. "I fell off a cliff once—turns out the deer knew there was a gap past some bushes and just leapt over it."
She winces as she shifts slightly. "Then there was the time I fell out of a tree, and a boar I was stalking decided to kick my ass."
"And I'll never forget the Kiki plant," she continues, a small laugh escaping her. "It almost ate me, but I was carrying a ton of herbs and mushrooms that day. It spit me right out onto a pretty deep hole."
Valen stares at her, dumbfounded, before shaking his head and letting out a laugh that quickly turns into a groan as his side protests. "You…you might be the clumsiest hunter I've ever met."
"Rude."
The pair's laughter fills the tent for a moment, lightening the tension despite their exhaustion. When it fades, silence settles between them.
"This is nice, though," Eska says softly, glancing at Valen.
He raises an eyebrow. "Are you losing it? We're both bleeding and in pain."
"Yeah," she replies with a small, almost shy smile. "But I usually do this alone when it happens." Her voice softens as she closes her eyes, letting herself rest against the warming coverings.
The sadness is Valen's heart softens, giving way to relief as his gaze settles on her calm expression.
Without opening her eyes, Eska breaks the silence. "How long do you think they'll take to bring the city's army?"
Valen chuckles at her question. "I doubt they'll send an entire army," he replies. "But depending on who's making the decisions, it could take a while."
Eska pouts faintly, the corners of her mouth tightening before a flicker of concern crosses her face. "Why haven't the argalias shown up yet?" she asks, her voice quieter now.
Valen's brow furrows. "It could be anything, really. These—"
He stops abruptly, his body tensing as a rustle cuts through the stillness, distant but unmistakable. His hand instinctively moves to his weapon laying beside him.
The rustling grows louder, closer, as Valen's hand tightens around his weapon. Eska stirs, her eyes slowly opening.
She begins to fidget, trying to stand. Valen signals for her to stop. "I've got this, stay down."
Valen pulls the tent open an inch and peeks through the gap. From the shadows beyond, the glint of chitin catches his eye—a lone argalia slowly emerges.
Valen struggles to his feet, wincing as his wound protests.
"Keep low," he whispers.
Eska moves to rise, but the argalia lunges at the only lit tent before anyone can act, its claws slicing through the air with terrifying speed.
Before it can strike, a swift, gleaming blur cuts through the darkness, followed by a thunderous crack that reverberates through the night.
The argalia is hurled backward, slamming into a nearby tree with a crackling thud.
Moments later, another deafening crash echoes from the direction it landed. A few seconds of silence follow before the sound of heavy footsteps approaches the tent.
The figure steps into view—a towering man clad in heavy metal armor, the polished surface gleaming faintly.
In his hands, he grips a massive hammer, its head still humming from the devastating blow. His presence is commanding, the weight of his steps resonating in the silence.