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The Maiden and the Star - Part Eight



The sun had already begun to set when he opened his eyes once more - he stayed quiet for a while, watching the dark-haired woman gather wood and make a large fire. When a coughing fit got ahold of him he finally caught her attention.

“Grimm!” She called out in surprise, moving swiftly over to kneel in front of him. Steadying him against the tree once more as he was beginning to slouch, she re-arranged the blankets and furs around him to keep him warm.

“Tell me what happened.” she asked, trying to sound brave. But he could read the anxiety and worry in her face.
“Arodiel – “ he spoke at last, beads of sweat rolling over his pale face. He looked into her light grey eyes for a while before speaking once more. It seemed to her that speaking pained him both physically and mentally.
”Go... go and fetch help in the town... tell the innkeeper and he shall send help... he'll make sure someone will come for you.”
“Grimm. I can't possibly leave you like this!” she replied midway in his words, an unknown fire lighting up her spirit.

“Arodiel...” he tried again.
“No - I have no wish for sentimentality, Grimm. Save them for later...” She looked at him sternly, reaching out grab the furs around his neck and making quick work of them. His shirt was dyed a deep dark red by his shoulder, catching her in surprise.
“Why did you not tell me?” she whispered to him, a look of deep concern in her eyes. She reached out to grab hold of his shirt, meaning to undo him of his upper garments to reach the wound.

He shook his head at last, stopping her by grabbing hold of her small wrists.
Yet she was quicker with her own wits. “If you do not let go of me, Grimm - I shall henceforth liken you to a mule... Nay, not even that.  For your companion that has carried me for many a mile now, knows when he is offered help and kindness. You obviously do not.”
She paused briefly in her words as she felt his grip loosen.
“Now then...” she said finally with a smug face, reaching out to feel his brow for his temperature. “Help me get your shirt off so I can reach the wound...”