She woke up when the horse reared, panic coursing through her when she forgot where she was, her hands reaching around the rider behind her to keep herself from falling off the horse. The Duke clicked his tongue to calm the horse, and Clara snapped back to her senses, immediately letting go of him. He dismounted without a word, and she slid off the saddle after him, falling straight to her knees. She would have felt embarrassed if she wasn’t so drained and light-headed. Machivall knelt down beside her as she tried desperately to make her legs work, the tears she had held back drenching her face. She didn’t want to cry in front of the Duke, but she couldn’t stop herself. He stayed silent by her side as several pairs of feet approached them, likely the attendants of the household. They spoke to Duke Machivall in hushed tones, their words slurred and far away. When Clara’s tears had subsided, the Duke rested a hand on her shoulder and spoke to her with a gentleness she wouldn’t have imagined him capable of. 

“I can carry you into the house, Miss Clara, but I need to know if that’s alright with you,” the Duke said, his voice soft. She considered her options for a moment, avoiding looking at him by staring at the attendants’ feet. Accepting his offer would be the easiest solution, and much less painful than trying to walk, with or without help. But a Duke stooping to her level, and even offering to carry her into his home, felt wrong. She couldn’t accept it. She could live with the pain. Clara spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“I…can walk…”

She heard the Duke exhale sharply as he stood, his hand leaving her shoulder. He grasped her hand and pulled her up gently. Clara’s head spun, and she could barely feel her legs beyond the aching pain, but she managed to stand. For a few seconds. Almost as soon as she stood up, she fell sideways, her left leg crumpling first. The Duke caught her easily, scooping her into his arms. Despite how much blood she had lost, Clara felt her face flush.

“Are you comfortable with me carrying you in?” the Duke asked, looking at her with genuine concern. She nodded, her tears still running as he started walking towards the manor. It was smaller than Juton’s estate, though the grounds were far more lively and beautiful. So many well-cared for flowers and shrubs. And despite the sun being so low in the sky, everything looked full of life. “You can start working once you’ve recovered well enough to stand for long periods of time. There are a few different jobs you can take and you’re free to have your pick. I suggest you take the next week to sort out your affairs.”

The attendants trailed behind them to the front doors. Clara turned her face into the Duke’s chest, hiding from the staring faces as Machivall strode through the halls, his boots heavy on the wooden floors. She tried to keep her eyes open, looking through her hair at the path down the hallways, trying to remember something, anything, but the Duke’s steady heartbeat was strangely comforting. When he paused to speak to his workers, his voice rumbling through his chest, Clara slipped back into sleep.

She dreamt of searing pain, blood, and someone screaming. The screaming woke her up, and it was only when it stopped that Clara realized she had been screaming. She shot up in bed, the world spinning as an unfamiliar face hovered over her.

“Easy there, I just finished wrapping up that leg of yours, and I doubt you want it to move much considering how much skin you lost. Just when I need Charleen the most she decides to leave,” an older woman said, her brown eyes darting towards the door.

“Who are you?” Clara choked out, her throat sore.

“I’m the nurse here at the Machivall estate, you can call me Nurse Shepard if you’d like,” she answered. The old woman reached for a glass of water, holding it out for Clara. Clara took it with a shaking hand, drinking the whole glass in a single breath. “Your throat must be quite rough from all that screaming. I heard that you…you were part of the Human Hunt at the Juton manor… and that you nearly escaped. Not to mention you came out on the other side practically unharmed.”

“I suppose.”

“Yes, well,” Nurse Shepard mumbled as she rolled up her sleeve to show an old scar on her forearm. It looked like a dog had taken a huge bite out of her arm, leaving a dent where flesh should have been. “You are lucky to have only one such scar. I was tackled by the dogs around two in the morning. They tore at my body without mercy. I was only lucky enough to save most of my face from scarring. After the months it took to recover had passed, I escaped and found work here.”

“Does…does the pain go away?”

“Not completely, but it will be manageable. Once your wound has healed, and you get back to moving around, it will hurt to walk for a long time, maybe forever, but you’ll be mobile at least.” Nurse Shepard piled several blankets on top of Clara, making her lay back on the bed, and began crushing a mixture of herbs as a woman around Clara’s mother’s age came rushing into the room looking worried.

“I heard the screaming, is everything alright?” the woman asked, standing beside Clara and patting her shoulder.

“She’ll be fine in a few weeks, just needs bed-rest for a while,” Nurse Shepard answered, grinding the herbs into a fine paste.

“A few weeks?! I can’t stay in bed that long! The Duke, he—he told me to take a few days and then start work!” Clara said, sitting up straight and immediately regretting the movement. A taste like bile rose up in her throat, and the aching of her joints made her shake as she tried to support herself. The two women glanced at each other before the younger one spoke.

“He said that you can start working once you’ve recovered, not that you were to start work as soon as the wound stopped bleeding. He isn’t going to force you to work if you’re too injured to get out of bed. You need to take your time healing, then find a fitting job. There isn’t any rush,” the lady said softly. She put a hand on Clara’s shoulder and gently pushed her back onto the mattress. Clara was relieved that she would get proper time to recover, but also felt guilty about not being able to work. It felt wrong to be somewhere without a job to do.

“I know that look. Don’t go making yourself feel guilty for no reason. Aleric knows just as well as anybody that you won’t be able to work for a while,” Nurse Shepard said, mixing her herbal blend into a jug of hot water and pouring the mixture into a tall cup.

“Who?” Clara asked.

“Argh, slip of the tongue.” The nurse shook her head as she handed Clara the cup of hot liquid. The other woman steadied Clara’s hand as she drank. “That’s the current Duke’s first name, of course, but don’t go around using it so informally.”

“You shouldn’t be using it so informally either, Amy,” the other woman quipped, taking the empty cup from Clara’s hands and setting it on the nightstand. She smiled at Nurse Amy Shepard, who sighed in defeat.

“Yes, yes, but it’s terribly hard not to call him that when I practically raised him. Besides, there have been plenty of times I’ve heard you call him that, Charleen. Ah, pardon me Mrs. Harland,” Nurse Shepard said with a smirk, and Mrs. Charleen Harland laughed. Clara watched them with tired amazement. She’d never been comfortable calling anyone at the Juton estate by their first name.

“I thought you were part of the Human Hunt? Hasn’t that only been going on since the current Lord Juton took over?” Clara asked, her eyelids getting heavy.

“I’m afraid not, dear,” Mrs. Harland answered. Nurse Shepard went pale as she packed her bag of herbs and tools, her withered hands moving slow. “It’s been going on for quite some time. But never you mind that, you just need to focus on getting better. Get some rest, now, and I’ll bring some food for when you wake up later.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,’ just get some sleep. We’ll see you later,” Mrs. Harland said, marching out of the room with Nurse Shepard, who smiled grimly at Clara as they left, the door closing softly behind them. Clara fought against sleep for several minutes, trying to wrap her head around everything, but it was far too much to process, and she soon fell into a dreamless sleep.