The Legend of Voden: The Rise of the Hollow

Chapter 8: Cold Greetings

Iceleta was actually surprised at another individual for once in her life. She never thought to see the young whelp survive with minor injuries, considering the fact that he took a full Arcane explosion head-on and survived. Only to survive a huge fall down the mountainside. 

She turned him over where she could see his wounds and she nearly flinched at the sight of blood. She merely stood unfazed at the scene when she saw the nasty gash across the body of the limp, unconscious dragon. 

Perchance if it was another young dragon that had happened to come across the scene. She was certain that they would've either vomited on the spot or have fled the scene by now. She considered herself lucky that she had a strong stomach--plus the fact that she had already a good share of fights and complementary injuries during her sparring days. 

Or else she feared she might've vomited on the spot too.

And Iceleta wasn't the sort of dragon that would practice cowardly tactics in the face of danger, so Iceleta proceeded to lean over the whelp's body and charged up her ice breath. She closed one of her eyes as she imagined herself as a marksman, aiming her jaws right at the "bullseye" where the bleeding occurred, and unleashed a single focused beam of a frost bolt at the spot. The blood froze in its place once the bolt had struck and spread over the area, preventing further blood loss. 

At least, that was what she had been taught to do so in med school. 

Now she realized her one-year training in the Art of Healing at the Academy had not been a complete waste. She could still remember her training and she resorted to it, taking care not to make her ice breath too cold, lest she wanted the victim to die of hypothermia. 

At the same time, she also made a mental note to have Voden learn the ways of Healing Magic. He may not wield an Element, but perhaps he could still wield the power of the Art of Healing to his advantage. 

Ol' Willow would certainly be glad to give a pointer or two, she thought while still applying her ice breath over the affected area. Willow was one of the Grand Counselors of the City of Seasons. He was the last-know of the Life Dragons ever recorded in History, and naturally, he specialized in herbs, balms, potions, apothecary, and politics.

Maybe he shouldn't give Voden a pointer about politics. Maybe he should give him a lesson about bandaging instead, just like what I learned during my only-year in the Academy. The thought of bandaging seemed to remind her when she realized the poor dragon had also probably needed some bandaging as well. This was when Iceleta turned back to reality-

-and pulled the emergency stop switch of her frost breath as she saw the ice spreading over other areas of his torso. She instinctively flapped her hands just like how she would flap her wings in an attempt to thaw out the ice. 

This was why she had only a one-year training, in the Art of Healing, at the Academy.

Iceleta came to a realization that it wasn't her ice breath which was doing the actual work. The wound had healed itself, so to speak, as the blood around the area had sealed the wound in a matter of minutes. Now, she realized it was a "no-wonder" that the poor guy could be blasted off a mountain and survive after being thrown down to the forest floor. 

This guy was tough. Despite appearances.

Iceleta set him aside after she decided that she could aide him no further. She needed real healers to know that if the poor dragon had a fractured skull. 

Or a broken spine. 

Or perhaps even worse, a torn wing muscle.

And Iceleta certainly didn't finish her training to qualify as a Healer.

Iceleta contemplated her possible actions. Dragging off a body to the city nor leaving it in the cold felt like a good option to her now; she wouldn't want to look weird, but she also didn't want any business to associate herself with more trouble than she could handle all at once. 

She really wanted to help the child. Really, it was like the help that she had never received before in her childhood. But if the whelp had died under the care of her wing, then, in this case, helping the young dragon would be like adding the title of "child-killer" onto her other titles. That didn't seem like a bright choice to her. 

Choices. Choices. What to do?

Fortunate for her, she saw no need to contemplate further when she saw the young dragon whelp stirred in the corner of her eyes. 

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Random dragon: *survives

Iceleta: *surprised pikachu face

*cough cough

Ehem, that's enough Internet for today.

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