The two soldiers sauntered in casually like they owned the place and parked themselves next to the counter rudely. She was about to tell them off when she saw the third one limping behind them with a gaping wound on his left calf. His features were contorted in pain and one of his hands was fisted tightly over his thigh in an attempt to dull the pain. This was making the bleeding even worse especially because he was walking. The two soldiers barely glanced up as their comrade struggled to reach the counter and his blood painted the floor- like in a grotesque movie scene, instead they remained where they were and casually talked among themselves while occasionally snickering.
Dammit, they couldn't have helped him get here at least, could they?
Keeping her thoughts to herself, she hurried over to him and cleared the counter so he could lie down and straighten his leg. She eased off his hand from his thigh and inspected the wound, removing the makeshift tourniquet he had tied it with using a piece of cloth ripped from his shirt. The wound wasn't too deep thankfully and the cut was clean, she dabbed it with a cloth she had soaked in alcohol and then tied it tightly with her special antiseptic bandages. Her fingers made occasional contact with his skin when she was treating him and every time he looked up in fear, glancing over the two soldiers he had some in with to make sure they hadn't seen. She was the Alpha's 'prized' possession after all, god forbid she actually touch someone while giving them medical attention.
She levelled him with a stare- ordering him with her eyes to stay quiet and just ignore it. He swallowed shakily, before giving her a tight nod and laid his head back down on the table.
The cut was already beginning to heal, as was expected, considering how young he was. Even for mere soldiers, their wolves made them heal extremely fast, given that the injury wasn't by a special herb covered knife. The enemy camp had that particular herb- the ones that made their wounds impossible to heal and whose infections had actually proven to be deadly, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Outside the shed, in her makeshift garden, she had tried growing about a hundred different herbs which she theorised could be the 'special herb' but it was all for naught.
She was determined to find out though, even if it was more to sate her own curiosity than for the sake of the pack. That was a sad reality, she mused internally, the word 'pack' never really made her feel anything, except for maybe dread.
The sound of the door being opened again brought her back to reality and she looked up in surprise. Who was here at such a time? She straightened as she saw two members of the Alpha’s personal guard walk inside.
Today wasn't even the end of the week, when they usually came for her, so what now? The guards watched her critically, eyes roaming over her workshop and then stopping at the two soldiers who were loitering around the counter. Even they straightened, all their previous bravado gone as they stood up straighter and gave them a salute. The wounded soldier winced as he tried to pry himself off the counter to greet them and she clamped her hand over his ankle to push him back down.
They narrowed their eyes at where her hand was and she suppressed the urge to keep it there out of spite. She rolled her eyes and helped the injured soldier to sit upright on the counter and he offered the guards a weak salute with his trembling hand, which they ignored. He looked paranoid under their scrutiny.
She knew without asking what the guards' presence meant and quickly finished up dressing the soldiers wound before handing him a vial of pain killers with instructions to take them twice a day. The soldier thanked her, though his gratitude was laced with sympathy, and she faced him sternly and squared her shoulders, not wanting to be pitied. Clearly her agitation was showing- something she didn't want anyone to see.
Washing her hands again and taking off her apron with precise moves, she schooled her features and took a deep breath. The clearing of throats made her move faster as the guards at the door pointedly looked at the time and told her without words to hurry the hell up. Raking her fingers through her hair, she wondered if she looked a mess and then deliberately gathered the dark strands into a tight bun. Her fiancé liked her with her hair down. At least this was one victory she could salvage for herself, even if it was insignificant. With one final look at her appearance, she faced the soldiers and motioned at them to lead the way. She was ready to face her tyrant of a fiancé.
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