The Angkhora Warriors

Part 23: And She Woke Up

He burnt and cremated all of them. The girl on the sword. The plump man split in two. The tall slender man. They didn't deserve such horrid fates. He placed bits of white sage within to ensure their spirits were cleansed in the process and that the same air would not be tainted by the foulness of Undead ashes. He prayed that their spirits would find peace.

There was a strange stillness in the air. Arjana looked up at the breaking sunlight, dawn had risen, and he had to get back to the camp. To the wounded girl.

Was she fighting the Undead?

Is she the only survivor?

He followed the same blood trail back to his camp. When he entered, the girl was still sleeping, her shoulder exposed. Carefully, he covered her back up in his bedroll, taking only a moment to look over her body for any bite. No bite. No wound except for a few scratches. But there was a strange red scar around her neck. He looked at her breasts and gulped, having looked too much at the beautiful naked body and feeling the blood-rush to his cheeks in embarrassment. He couldn't deny himself the resemblance. Long, raven-black hair like laid silk, pale blue skin that had a strange ethereal glow to it.

She really looks like Ishya...

Arjana closed his eyes and he could see his love again. His love, smiling at him from the doorway of their tiny hut. Her skin glowing with the baby she carried in her womb. Her hair, long and silky black, tied up neatly atop her head as she worked in the kitchen, despite Arjana's best efforts to make her rest. Arjana could feel a smile across his face, and then he opened his eyes to see the naked girl before him, fast asleep.

Arjana spent much of the morning cleaning the blood and grime from his body. He'd found a nearby stream from which he could benefit from the clean-flowing water. He filled his waterskins, before soaking a piece of torn cloth in the cool stream. He was careful and precise, checking himself for any bite that may have gone unnoticed. He didn't want infection to set in, nor did he want to risk himself becoming an Undead like those villagers.

He wiped the cloth along his arms, rinsing the blood and ashes in the stream before once more bathing himself again. He didn't want to frighten the girl once she stirred again by being covered in dried blood and the ashes of burnt corpses. He needed to speak with her. To know what truly happened in the village.

He filled a small cast iron pot with water and brought it back to camp with him, careful not to spill its contents lest he have to make another trip. The stream wasn't far but, with carrying a full heavy waterskin, it would be a bit of a pain.

She's still asleep. He looked to see the girl still resting peacefully in his bedroll. He could not deny he felt a little exhausted himself after his evening adventures but he was used to going a few days without rest.

He placed the small pot over the coals of the fire, carefully stoking them around it so the heat would distribute evenly. Once it began to boil, he pulled a small pouch out of his bag, placing the carefully cloth-wrapped coffee grains into the boiling water and stirring it around with a small wooden spoon. It was one of the only comforts Arjana insisted on bringing with him whenever he went on a journey; whether to battle or on a hunt or on an investigation, coffee was the one thing Arjana chose above all else.

The strong smell of coffee woke the girl up. She gasped, wanted to scream, but did not. She remembered it was Arjana that saved her the night before. She pulled the blanket to cover her naked shoulder. Then she pulled it further to cover her neck.

Arjana held up his palm and said, "It's me," calming her down.

"I am not going to hurt you."

"Here," he said with a smile, "it will warm you up," handing her the cup of coffee.

The girl stared at him with wide eyes, her breath trembling. Then she slowly calmed down, before taking the cup into her own hands. She looked down at the contents, checking what the drink was. Her eyes slowly rose to look at Arjana, watching as he sipped his own cup.

"Coffee?" Arjana said.

She took a small sip, feeling the warmth hit her tongue and then the back of her throat, making her cough in response. Arjana paused, unsure if he'd accidentally poisoned the woman or she'd merely taken too large a sip.

Arjana waited for her to stop coughing.

"I... managed to get you... a sarong," Arjana continued, pulling out the garment from his pouch. "It was all I could find."

The girl looked at the sarong, staring at it for a long moment before taking another sip of coffee. She looked unphased by the sarong and of Arjana.

"I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself to you. I'm Arjana," he said, placing his hand upon his heart. "And you?"

No response.

The girl sipped her coffee, with her coughing fits gradually disappearing after each long sip. When she finished the cup, she slid back under the blanket and returned to sleep.

Arjana let out a long sigh. After his own evening fighting off a horde of Undead, he could not begin to fathom the horrors she'd gone through. Arjana finished his coffee, cleaning out the pot with some fresh water and letting it dry by the fire. He gathered a few more branches, ensuring they had enough firewood to keep the warmth going. Then he laid down, using his pouch as a makeshift pillow so that he too could get some sleep. The path back to RAMMA would take a few days, but with the mute girl in her condition, it could take them a week or longer to make the journey, and Arjana wouldn't want any more surprises, like another horde of Undead.