Her voice was as thin as a thread, feeling like it could snap any moment.
Each word she spoke came with a gasp. The rise and fall of her chest was so faint it was nearly invisible, only when leaning close could one feel that slight movement.
Flora’s throat tightened. She couldn’t speak. She lowered her hand and gently placed it on Eileen’s face.
It was cold. Very cold.
That cold traveled from her fingertips, all the way to her heart, freezing her whole body stiff.
Rain mixed with blood, sticking to her hand, sticky and cold. She could feel how cold Eileen’s skin was, how sticky the blood was, how terrified and helpless Eileen was.
“Who did this?”
Flora’s voice had already turned cold, as if even her mouth was spewing a chilling aura. But her voice still trembled, a tremor she couldn’t suppress.
Eileen wanted to speak, but took a few more gasps. She raised her hand, trying to point a direction, but halfway up she lost strength. Her hand wavered in the air, then fell, landing on herself.
Every word she spoke trembled, as if she was using all her strength.
“Over there… a group of people…”
Her voice shook badly. She spoke very slowly, haltingly, gasping after every few words.
Flora followed the direction where her hand had fallen. It was pitch black—nothing visible. Only rain, falling continuously.
She turned back to look at Eileen.
She was badly hurt. Very badly.
Flora had seen many wounds and suffered many injuries in the wild. So she knew clearly that if she left Eileen now without treating her, she would likely die.
Even if she didn’t die, having already been through a severe illness, Eileen’s frail body would suffer serious aftereffects.
She had barely survived. Now Flora didn’t want her to die no matter what.
But those people were running. If she didn’t chase now, she would lose them.
But if she left her like this, and if she came back too late and Eileen died, what then?
Flora crouched there stiffly, not moving.
Her mind was racing, yet nothing came out. Her thoughts were empty, yet full. These notions crowded together, collided, neither gaining the upper hand.
Chase?
Don’t chase?
If I chase, what about Eileen? She’s lying here, bleeding, could die at any moment!
If I don’t chase, what about those people? They hurt Eileen, then just ran away? Nothing happened? Just let it go?
She bit her lower lip, hard, hard enough to taste a hint of blood.
A rusty flavor, mixed with rain, dissolved in her mouth.
Her nails dug into her palm, but she couldn’t feel the pain. Something covered the pain, she couldn’t feel it, only knew she was digging.
Rain fell on her face, streaming down her cheeks.
‘I don’t know what to do. I don’t know.’
She shouted in her heart, but no sound came out. Her throat felt blocked, unable to make a sound.
Footsteps came from behind.
Stepping in the rain, steady, yet quick.
Flora didn’t turn around. She pressed her lips together again, because she knew who it was.
Ilya crouched down beside her.
Those silver eyes were exceptionally bright in the rain, dazzling, yet as calm as always. That calm felt especially reassuring at this moment.
“Go ahead,” Ilya said flatly.
She didn’t look at Flora, didn’t ask anything. She just glanced at Eileen’s wound, then raised her hand, letting a faint silver light cover the injury.
Flora was stunned.
She stared at Ilya, her mind slow to process.
“What about her?”
“I’m here. I’ll stay.”
Just six words.
Flora looked at her, then down at Eileen.
Eileen’s eyes were half-open, staring at nothing. Her lips moved, saying something, but her voice was too soft to hear.
Flora leaned closer and caught a few words.
“Save me… brother…”
She froze completely.
That word was like a knife, stabbing into her heart and twisting viciously.
Brother.
She was right here now, but Eileen didn’t know.
“Go quickly,” Ilya repeated.
Flora stood up swiftly.
She saw Ilya had already lowered her head and started treating Eileen’s wound.
Her movements were fast, steady, just like always. A very faint silver light glowed on her hands, covering the wound on Eileen’s forehead.
Flora took a deep breath.
The breath was cold, carrying the scent of rain and mud, plus a hint of blood. She drew it all the way down, until her lungs ached.
Then she turned and ran in that direction.
***
After a few steps, she looked back.
In the rain, Ilya crouched there, guarding the person on the ground. Her back was steady, unmoving, as if even if the sky fell, she would still be there guarding.
Flora turned back and kept running.
She ran fast, as if she were flying.
Rain hit her face, hit her eyes, but she didn’t have time to blink. Her feet splashed through puddles, spraying water onto her arms, onto her face—she paid no attention.
Only one thought filled her mind.
Catch them.
Catch those who hurt Eileen.
As she ran, a thought suddenly occurred to her.
Those people were running westward. And there was an open space there, with trees clustering somewhat densely.
If they wanted to rest, they would most likely stop there. It wasn’t far from the town, and it was hidden enough.
But she couldn’t guarantee they would definitely be there. Maybe they wouldn’t rest, just keep walking, and she couldn’t be sure she could catch up.
But at least beyond the town was a dirt road. With the rain now, everything was muddy. Those people’s footprints would be visible on the dirt, and as long as she followed the footprints, she wouldn’t lose them.
She kept running forward, until her feet ached, until the hem of her skirt split a little, until she didn’t know anything anymore, not even the sound of the rain around her.
She chased the footprints for who knows how long, until a clearing appeared ahead.
That clearing.
There was firelight!
Someone was there!
Flora instinctively slowed down, panting, and hid behind a tree to look out.
Several lanterns stood in the middle of the clearing. Their flames looked feeble in the rain, but together they provided decent light.
A lot of people—more than she had expected.
There were about fifteen or more of them, gathered around the fire. Some sat, some stood, some leaned against trees at the edge of the clearing.
Bags were scattered on the ground, along with several knives. The blades were stained with mud, and with other things.
Among them, she recognized a few faces.
Those were the people who had tried to steal something at the inn tonight.
They stood around a tall man. Two of them were bent over, seemingly speaking to him in agreement.
From Flora’s position, she could only see his back, not his face.
He listened to their words, nodding occasionally.
Without a doubt, this tall man was the boss of this group.