The Forsaken Hero

The next week passed in a blur, with my waking moments far and in between. Every day or so, someone would gently shake me awake, taking great care not to jostle my wounds. It took all the strength I had to accept a few spoonfuls of hot broth before my eyes closed again and I slumped back to the bed. My eyes were too heavy to open, leaving those who ministered to me a mystery, but I was able to recognize Korra’s tender touch much of the time.

Every time I awoke brought me more strength and less pain. Just like last time, being inflicted with Sunpurge caused catastrophic damage to my soul, greatly reducing my natural healing and regeneration, but by the end of the sixth day, the throbbing had fallen to a dull ache. It was no worse than the wound on my shoulder, and likely wouldn’t be getting any better from there.

On the morning of the seventh day, it wasn’t a hand that awoke me, but a warm, wet tongue, rasping across my cheek. Still half-asleep, I mumbled something unintelligible and pushed at the great furred head rubbing against my cheek. A low rumble in Fable’s throat resonated deep in my chest, and another sloppy, wet kiss brought me to my senses. Yawning wide, I blinked away the last of my lingering lethargy and tried to sit up, only to wince as the motion caused my waist to crease, sending a stab of pain through the Sunpurge.

"Oww," I groaned, rubbing a horn. Just what was I supposed to do? Just dealing with my shoulder had been difficult enough, but now I was afflicted on my side as well.

Pushing back Fable, I gently peeled back the thin white sheet and got a good look at myself. I was dressed in only a sheer white night dress as thin as gossamer, which while a little embarrassing, was a choice made of necessity. Any attempt at wearing a heavier garment would ignite the Sunpurge, which was still extremely sensitive.

Just like my shoulder, the Sunpurge healed smooth and flush with the skin around it, with no bumps, ridges, or indents associated with normal scarring. The primary wound was a two-inch wide where the inquisitor’s blade made initial contact. A few additional veins pointed down toward my thigh, but the majority of the scar snaked up my side to the base of my ribs. It wove across my skin in a tangle of glimmering lines, like fissures in a marble statue.

With Fable’s help, I gingerly sat up, letting my legs hang over the edge of the cot. It was military grade and made for a man far larger than myself, leaving my feet free in the air an inch or two above the ground. Fable’s head was on one side, while the tip of his tail twitched on my other. I glanced behind me and found him curled entirely around the cot, somehow large enough to completely surround me. It was the closest thing I’d had to a hug since Korra left the week before, and brought a faint smile to my lips.

I carefully tested my arm, ensuring my motion was pain-free before resting a hand between his horns. "Thanks, Fable. I missed you."

He whined in reply and licked my face again.