Chapter 47: Dear mama
"Greedy fuckers!" Mitch’s voice cracked with exhaustion as he spat onto the shield bearer’s headless corpse.
His hands trembled, whether from adrenaline or shock, he couldn’t tell. The acrid smell of torn flesh and blood still hung in the air from their desperate fight.
They had almost died. Again.
Mitch pressed a palm against his wound, healing it slowly. "Have you seen these bastards before, Leya?" He gestured toward the scattered bodies.
Leya leaned heavily against a charred tree trunk, her clothes torn, burnt, and bloodied.
Sweat beaded on her pale forehead as she struggled to catch her breath. "I’ve seen them in the city," she said between gasps.
"Their faces are familiar; they frequent the Drunken Griffin tavern, but I don’t know their names or backgrounds."
"Do you think we can catch the last one?" Mitch asked as he placed his hands over the gaping wound in his torso, channeling his meager healing magic.
Golden light flickered from his palms, knitting flesh together with agonizing slowness.
"I can barely stand," Leya admitted, sliding down the tree trunk until she sat on the forest floor.
"That fire pillar nearly cooked me alive. My mana reserves are completely drained." She studied his battered form with concern. "And somehow, you look far worse than I feel."
Mitch’s laugh came out as more of a wheeze. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat brown hair was matted with blood and dirt.