Oathkeeper

Chapter 82: Questions You Already Have The Answers To

Blinded by the light seeping through the ceiling of Old Man Lore's infirmary, Ilizabeth shielded her eyes with her forearm. She laid flat on her back with some of her blonde locks stuck to the dry drool on the side of her mouth and the white bandage Lore put on yesterday still wrapped tightly beneath her chin. After a few minutes of idling, she fought against her stiff muscles and sat up. Her shoulder pain had dulled to an agitating linger, and her ear was no longer an issue.

Through the fading sleep inertia, Ilizabeth began to run through the memory of how she got here. Thanks to Ishmal's sense of direction, they spent less than two days in the tunnels before finding their way back to the Frozen Shore before yesterdays' sunset. Ilizabeth had trouble remembering anything that happened prior to being separated the moment they surfaced the woods. She watched Ishmal be taken by a few Milkwater Clan members, barely able to muster a voice of protest while she was brought to Old Man Lore

He claimed her body started to do its own work with her shoulder the moment it was put back into place and would continue to do so as long as she didn't overwork it. But the injury she sustained in the Lands was severely worse. She felt unusually groggy during their grueling adventure through the tunnels. Ishmal carried her on his back the entire time, which made sure she wasn't conscious enough to feel the changes happening to her ear.

It swelled even larger than Rickon fingers did after he slammed it in the door when they were only four. By the time she'd been put onto Old Man Lore's sickbed, her ear was blotchy and bluish-purple. Lore had regretfully informed her that it was not only damaged beyond repair, but it became infected and needed to be removed if she wanted to live.

Recollection jolted her awake. She lifted her hand and thought about putting it to her face. Before she'd even touched it, defeat settled in her stomach. It felt extraordinarily different. There was no strain that tugged at every muscle day after day. There was no fight that steadied her heart at an abnormal rate. There were no options, and that kind of defeat nearly crushed her. She traced the slightly porous material of the bandage, running her fingers down from her temple. Her fingers reached for confirmation but Jon's sudden entry into the hut kept her from re-discovering the painful truth.

He looked at her with eyes as gentle as clouds, another confirmation, and asked, "How are you feeling?"

Ilizabeth could barely see through the tears that pooled her eyes when Jon came rushing into Old Man Lores tent yesterday. And when she finally got a whiff of the unwavering, musky, outdoorsy scent he always carried, she crumbled just as she felt she would now. At some point in their journey, she remembered Ishmal telling her he didn't do anything to Jon, and that taking on a new language or voice only required that person to speak to you. But getting to see his overgrown hair and beard, getting to smell the scent that stuck to him like honey, made it all more real.

One of the first things she asked about was Ishmal, and it took Jon by complete surprise. He'd barely let her get another word in before redirecting her attention on Lore, who had returned with everything he needed for the amputation. She passed out at some point, and didn't awake until now.

"I'm fine," She wiped her falling tears, insisting unconvincingly, "Where's Ishmal?"

"The creature's fine. It's in a tent on Milkwater territory under guard," Jon answered in a huff. "How's that feeling,"

" He came to help us," Ilizabeth grumbled, purposely avoiding the topic. If they didn't talk about it, and she couldn't see it, it wasn't real.

She shifted forward, revealing the deep red spot on the bandage wrapped around the top of her head and chin to the sunlight.

"Look, you've just woken up. Why don't you just take it easy for now, and you can argue with me later?" Jon flashed his white flag smile.

She knew she wouldn't win this argument, which bothered her a bit more than she'd ever admit beneath the surface. Still she kept quiet, nodding in simplistic agreement. A wave of silence came and went, and still Jon was on his feet.