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A woman yelped a little as she scrambled to her knees, the searing pain in her side turning her breath into a moan. She was injured. Badly, perhaps even mortally. She could feel the burning agony all throughout her side, her hip, her buttocks and the back of her neck. She had been stripped immediately of the heavy armor as soon as she had been found. Her tunic was now ripped and bloodstained, but had been cast aside for lack of time. Two healers worked on her in shifts, their faces worried and determined. The first sentence she heard from the lead man was a demand.

"Cuthbert! Where is the ranger!?"

"Not yet in sight," the younger healer replied, voice tense. "He has three minutes left, as you ordered. In all truth, I don't think he will appear in time."

A vicious curse cut through the air, as another pang of hot pain spiked through her body. The woman gritted her teeth, but a grunt still escaped her. She had never liked anyone to see her in a state of weakness. But her companions seemed to be giving her little choice in the matter.

"How can you possibly blame him for this, Edwin?" Cuthbert asked, his voice holding what could be interpreted as frustration as well as concern. "Half the damn witch's army could have escaped in that time. You can't make some poor ranger shoulder the responsibility for every damn thing."

"Regardless of that fact that you're right," Edwin responded, with a tone of voice that indicated he had made up his mind. "I'm going to have a serious word with that man. His carelessness gets us hurt. Again. Did you see the arrows he left behind? He didn't even check if any of us was still alive, instead he just left. He thinks we're below him."

"Perhaps he thinks correctly?" Cuthbert hissed softly, the notes of a louder argument almost present in his tone.

"No. No. I don't believe that. Leaving a trail of bloody bodies behind him isn't something that I would assign him. I'm ordering him under watch until we're back at the castle. He's not going anywhere, until we've rested and he has his injuries treated."

"Under watch? What of the elf?" Cuthbert asked.

"It's a simple case of reading too much into that fact. Wizards are magical beasts. His kind is a whole different order. They have greater intelligence, we've seen it before. The man isn't a ranger, Cuthbert. I wouldn't judge him without proof."

"Yes, sir. But, sir," The younger man's tone was serious. "I must insist that Rangers be placed under watch, at least until given a guarantee of safe passage home. These people range over the forest unobstructed. They could be scouting our movements."

"In order to know that, we'd need to engage in regular patrols deeper into the forest," Edwin responded. "Our numbers are small, Cuthbert. That's why the poison was so devastating."

"Protection must be a priority," Cuthbert replied.

"It is. Our scouts have found nothing, and we let the trail of the witch's army go. They're out there. Spying on us." Edwin sighed loudly. "I suppose that's what an enemy would do."

"The elves will always be our enemies," Cuthbert disagreed. "They've been our enemies for centuries now."

"I don't think they've changed all that much, Cuthbert," Edwin replied. "Decades ago, wizards were considered evil by our kind. Now, they're openly with us. There's something else, something else is going on here. I suspect the elves are testing us."

"Like we've been testing them?" Cuthbert retorted. "Is that a concern?"

"It is, if they're staying out of the fight," Edwin argued. "You saw the prior battle. The elves were nowhere to be seen. And, they probably witnessed the witch's army appearing. They have eyes and ears. The elves have changed, Cuthbert. It's not their old hatred that I'm denying. I'm warning you that we need to be wary."

"All right. I'll mention the possibility to the lords and ladies," Cuthbert said. "Perhaps someone will order patrols deeper into the forest."

"Good. Good, a patrol of no more than two would be sufficient. They couldn't afford to be followed, not if the elves have managed to improve themselves."

"Enough of their distrust," Cuthbert said, a quiet note of disappointment in his voice. "We need to get the witch's army."

"We will, eventually," Edwin replied. "We need to make progress first."

"And, Cuthbert, you're going to do just that. You're going to get that ranger. I want him alive."

"Yes, sir," Cuthbert replied.

The two healers took their leave, as the words of their leader rang in the air. The sound mixed with the crackling of the small campfire, and the occasional sound of another soldier engaging in a bout of restful sleep. A stifled groan of pain escaped the body of the injured woman, as she lowered herself more fully into the earth by her bedroll. The grass underneath her was cool and gentle, constantly comforting to her. The sun had long set on the world by now, but a soft purple glow came from above, lighting up the forest and its shadows.

"You're right, they can't get anymore stubborn," she muttered in a dry voice. "But I'm not going. Nothing is going to stop me."

She sat there for a long time, fingering the painful wound in her side, thinking of her next words. She had been taken by surprise. The witches had managed to get her surrounded, with only Edwin, her cohort and her bodyguard against a full tide of enemy magic. Cuthbert had initiated the battle with a crucial strike, cleaving a witch in half, but had immediately fallen to the ground, shrieking in pain. Edwin had managed to take down a couple of enemy combatants, but soon he, too, had fallen under a spell that froze his body in place. It had all happened so swiftly, and she was now in this state.

She was not sure if Edwin had survived, because the witch had taken great care to prevent her acquiring any useful information about the retreat. As she had fled, she had heard the witch mutter, “I might need to feed on him. He was making a lot of noise.” Then, there was something like a dragging sound, and then a loud cry for help from Edwin. After that she had been cut off from all knowledge of the battle.

She felt weak, and struggled to raise her head, but quickly fell back down. Pain tied her breath and anger bound her words, as she gritted her teeth against the agony.

"I'll get you, little witch," she managed to say through clenched teeth. "It's been a long time coming. Come and get me!"

She waited for the insult to be answered, but it never came. She tried again.

"I can't let you do that. I won't let you hurt me. I'm going to hunt you down, and kill you."

All the while, she kept probing the wound and the magic that had been inserted. For a splinter of a moment, she could see it, see where it started, and where it would inevitably end, poisoning her, eating away at her life, slowly and surely. It was acidic, hot, and burning her from the inside out.

"I... I'm going to kill you... And then, I will kill your sister."

She let out a small gasp of pain at this point, as her hand went over the wound. Her eyes closed and her eyebrows slowly moved closer together.

"Fuck," she mouthed.