Oathkeeper

Chapter 76: Battle of the Frozen Shore

"You'll want to bite down on that," The man suggested as he pushed the rag in Ilizabeths face.

She eyed the dingy cloth, then Old Man Lore. His long bushy beard turned from golden blonde to ghostly white the further it grew over his chest. He had thick folds embedded into his face, a nose like a hawk, and a dark empty void where his left eyeball used to be. As unnerving as staring into one tired brown eye was, Ilizabeth was glad he was here.

The inside of the hut was as quiet as the air was still on a snowy summer night. A single flame, protected by the small glass frames of the lantern, sat at the end of the tree stump. It lit the room up just enough for the procedure. There were also a series of uniquely colored glass bottles, and wooden bowls with powders sat beside an empty mortar and pestle on said stump. The largest bottle was port shaped and burned a green as bright as wildfire, and the other two were like small vials with thick cherry red juice inside. Ilizabeth could taste its slimy, gross, burning texture just from looking at it. It reeked of anise which would hopefully help her heal fast without shocking her taste buds.

The outside of the hut was its complete opposite. After Ilizabeth practically came crashing down from the sky, long, airy blasts shot from the carved tusks sounding throughout the entire camp every thirty seconds. The young and weak rushed inside while the Commanders rallied everyone else. Axes were grabbed. Arrows were sharpened. Pits of fire were assembled. Chants and warcries were shouted. Anything, and everything was done in preparation for the fight.

Ilizabeth hesitantly opened her mouth, her jaw practically creaked as lowered open and clamped her teeth down on the cloth. Saliva pooled beneath her tongue, so much that some dribbled down onto her pants legs. Lore placed a wide muscular hand on top of her left shoulder so gently she could barely feel it, then he placed his other palm at the center of her back. He looked to her with apologetic eyes, waiting for her to give him a sign of readiness. She turned to Jon, her eyes frantic. He'd been by her side from the moment she was brought into the tent, and refused to leave until he knew she'd be okay. Even with the creatures preparing for an attack and an entire clan of people to prepare. He flashed her a tight lipped grin that formed from the corner of his mouth.

"Ish going to hurt ishn't it?" She muffled as she returned nervously.

"It'll hurt even more if we don't do it now," Jon reminded her.

Ilizabeth took in three deep breaths, releasing a bit more fear each time she exhaled. She locked eyes with Lore and nodded. Then she shut them tight. A light whistle came from her nostrils. She tried to think of anything other than her dislodged shoulder and how disgusting it looked with the bone sticking out beneath her skin. Books. Gowns. Rickon. Cake. Bears. Ice. Swords. Mundy. No, not Mundy, she didn't want to think of her. A voluminous, guttural, yet still high-pitched shriek traveled up and out her chest, mixed with pain and tears. Her eyes shot open forcefully. In one muffled crack, the two bones were restored to its prospective joint. The fiery feel faded to ice as it went completely numb. She threw her hand over her rotator cuff and gasped as the tears welled in her bottom eyelids. Ilizabeth huffed and puffed until her breathing finally stabilized.

"Alright," Ilizabeth groaned as she hopped down from the table. She took a second to collect herself then spoke again, "We should get out there,"

Ilizabeth marched towards the front curtain, supporting her arm with the other. Just as she moved to push through the curtain with her back, Jon grabbed her, pulling her back inside, "You can't go out there!"

"What? Why not?" She wiggled free from his grasp.

"You can't wield a weapon with your shoulder like that," He gestured to her arm.