MARICAYANA: The Beginning [ONC 2021]

15: COLD & WARMTH

It rained cats and dogs when Father died.

Just like this. At this very moment.

The heavy rain, the pattering of water against a flimsy surface, the smell of ozone and stale blood in the air, they gave Wening a strong sense of déjà vu. Oh, and one more thing. A shivering, writhing body in her arms.

True to Wening's earlier words, Kelana Klawu's clothes were soaked through by the end of the day. If it wasn't because of the fight with Aradea and his subsequence collapsing, then it was due to the downpour soon after.

But unlike the case with Father, this time, they had no actual roof to offer a shelter. The closest thing they had at their immediate disposal was the horseless persimmon wine cart. Coupled with the dense canopy from the tree it was parked at, the flimsy top would at least provide a respite, albeit small, until the storm let up.

If it let up.

Still, it had been their only option. Once Wening managed to heave Kelana Klawu out of the water, the cart had been the first thing that came to mind anyway.

Emptying the cart—without spilling away its precious cargo, that was—took some time and a quite amount of effort. At the end, though, it was definitely worth it.

Wening eventually managed to free up enough space for the both of them to lay down. Not that she would. Between the two of them, she was not the one who was in dire need to stay horizontal.

The evening was falling and the steady downpour didn't help with the dimming visibility. Fortunately, the cart came with a small oil lamp tucked in the corner. The light it produced was flimsy at best, but it was better than nothing. In any case, it provided some illumination that would allow Wening to start assessing the damage. Not hers.

Now. Where do we start? Perhaps with 'not panicking'. How does that sound?

Well, it was hard.

The gash on Kelana Klawu's chest, while it wasn't too deep, was still stubbornly oozing. Blood loss was a looming threat, but on top of that, Wening couldn't quell the suspicion that in all likelihood, the wound had also been poisoned.

Wening tried her best not to dwell too much on the fact that it might as well be the same poison that killed Father.

But, first thing first.

Wening gathered two gourds; one with their spare wine, the other with creek water. The latter was, of course, taken before the stream was polluted with dead bodies and bodily fluids. Next, she used Father's keris to tear Kelana Klawu's shirt all the way through. In any case, the shirt was already unsalvageable and Wening needed full access to the wound.

Something caught her eyes as Wening pried two sides of the ripped shirt open. It looked like a dark spot at first, right on his left pectoral. Did she miss another wound? Wening brought the oil lamp closer to inspect the spot, and...

By some miracle, Wening hadn't dropped the lamp and burned themselves alive. But it was a close thing. Because a single rolling grey cloud, the exact same one she spotted on Aradea's chest, was tattooed there. Innocently. Mockingly.

Kelana Klawu whimpered and the haze dispersed.

Wening had questions. Lots of them. But they could wait. There was no point of asking if the interviewee was dead.

Wening took the water gourd and started rinsing the wound. Once the blood and grime had been significantly removed, she took to look closer at the revealed damage underneath. Her insides involuntarily clenched at the sight. The wound may not guarantee an instant death, but it sure as hell needed stitches. And painkiller salve. Lots of them.