Stranded on The Southern Continent

Windthrow dreamt that Vylet was singing to him.

A soft and kind song. In the dream, she’d stroke his hair and dab his forehead with a wet cloth. This was a side of Vylet he’d never seen. He’d never doubted it, but she’d truly make a great mother one day.

He startled awake from the dream. The air felt frigid on his lips. He was covered in dusty blankets–he could feel the grime on his skin. A sharp pain radiated out from his leg.

Windthrow slowly opened his eyes. They felt chalky and dry. Above him was a gray sky; a ruined ceiling partly hung over where he lay. He turned his head, noticing that he was in a ruin. This wasn't the room in the tower.

He remembered. An explosion from the undead. The last thing he tried to do was grab Vylet.

“Vylet!”

He tried to shout, but his voice emerged quiet and strained. Windthrow threw the blankets off his body, trying to get to his feet. Sharp burning pain from his leg.

“We have to be quiet. Everything will be okay.”

A feminine voice called out to him softly. The human. She scurried in through a cracked and broken doorway. Her robe was torn at the waist, covered in dirt. Several painful looking bruises blemished her pale legs.

She knelt beside him.

“Your leg is badly injured Mr. Windthrow,” she said. “I tried my best, but my healing magic is only rudimentary.”

“Where are we? Where’s Vylet and Cleyre?”

“I don’t know. I dragged you away from the rubble,” Teetri whispered. “They weren’t there.”

“You did all that…to save me? Why?”

Teetri quizzically tilted her head, brushing her red bangs from her eyes.

She was clearly tired, but her blue eyes were still alert. Windthrow realized–for the first time–that Teetri was attractive. For a human.

“Your people gave me a safe place. And you are Vylet’s husband. I’m in debt to you both.”

Despite everything, he had to laugh. They’d discussed it…but she’d said it still felt too early for marriage.

“Thank you. But we’re not married yet. We have to come up with a plan to find the rest of our party.”

“Shhh,” she held a slender finger to her lips. “There’s more of the…things, worse ones. Speak more quietly.”

“Sorry.” Teetri’s eyes were piercing. For such a mousey human, she had a distinct intensity.

“My apologies. But your bow is missing. We have your silver dagger. Nothing more.”

Windthrow’s attachment to his bow wasn’t as intense as Vylet’s “love affair” with her spear. But it was still his precious weapon. Losing it would be a large blow.

“It’s okay. We’re in a safe place. They don’t seem to come into these ruins,” Teetri said.

She placed her hand on his shoulder. A delicate touch. Part of him hated that a human was touching him. While the other, saw this as a betrayal of Vylet.

“Teetri. What are–”

She showed him a sad smile. A dim blue light gathered at her hand. She dragged her hand, and the light, down his (covered) body. He felt a soft tingle, and perhaps, like some of the pain was relieved from his leg.

“I don’t think…I was ever very good at healing magic.” Teetri stared at the darkening gray sky. “They told me to practice. I remember that.”

Windthrow heard a distant series of screams and screeches.

Teetri hunched down next to him. She was tall and skinny. Why was he so threatened back when she’d first arrived? Maybe Vylet was right…

A sense of weakness overcame him, and he passed out.

For the next few days, Windthrow struggled against a massive fever. The dust, the cold, or his injury–impossible to tell what caused it.

Sometimes he’d open his eyes. Freezing.

For a moment, it was like he was back on a mission for the humans again. Everything good that’d happened was just a dream. Then a woman would press against him, chasing the cold from his weakened body.

Vylet, he’d think.

Other times, he swore he was a child again. Before he was enslaved. A time he couldn't remember, didn’t even know was real. His mother sang to him softly. Saying that he’d feel better soon.

More than once he awakened to an exhausted Teetri squeezing precious drops of water from a rag into his mouth.

---

Teetri hoped the worst was past. She didn’t know much about Elven physiology. But they must be similar to humans. If the fever had broken, he’d recover soon.

She suppressed a yawn. All night she’d monitored him. Terrified that as soon as she looked away, he’d be gone. What would she tell Vylet then?

Teetri pulled the blankets from Windthrow’s leg. It’d healed nicely. Tons of bruising, but the gash was closed–with the help of her pitiful healing skills.

The sun would be rising soon. If he didn’t wake up…then the problems were worse than she imagined. But she didn’t want to think of such things. Teetri wanted to speak with Windthrow more–to look into his emerald eyes again.

Thump.

Something landed outside. Surely none of the creatures could fly?!

She gripped Windthrow’s silver dagger. Both her hands shook.

Footsteps approached. Why now?! When she was so close!

She charged the doorway.