Patrick was quickly pulled to the villiage healer. bumping into people along the way.
"S–slow down!" He demanded. He wasn't trying to make enemies after
Apparently just waking up from an injury.
"It's fine. These people wouldn't do anything to you while I'm here" this gave way to more disgruntled stares but nobody took action.
"It's just that way." She pointed. turning him around. Once they walked in, the woman beside him ran over to the medic, she looked to be a shaman or a mysterious wizard.
She is draped in a cloak that covered her head, only revealing her mouth and nose that poked out for obvious reasons. hello "grandma Annalise!" she said, preparing to jump on her.
funnily enough her "granny" lifted her arm and extended her finger, pushing her whole body back, making her fall backwards. Hitting the ground with a loud thud
"Hello to you as well Ariel" the older wolf said, chuckling
She turned, spotting the young man not far from her. "And you brought back young jairo." Yet she squinted her eyes. "Did he request marriage lik–"
"Shush!" Ariel held her hands out in front of her, her face flushing a deep red beneath her fur. "Granny, he literally just woke up from a concussion!
The old woman leaned back a bit and couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped her mouth. Waving it away, she turned back to him. "young Jairo, youve been through quite the experience, unfortunately it may get worse for you yet."
"Worse?" Patrick—or Jairo, as apparently the world now knew him—felt a cold prickle of anxiety beneath his fur. He looked at his paws, then back at the hooded woman. "What do you mean worse? Like, more maces to the face?"
"Something like that." She said, turning around and beckoning the others to follow.
She pulled back another cloth and revealed a bunch of men, 25 in cloth covers with injuries from slashes to amputation.
Jairo shivered. Visibly repulsed. Never in his life had he seen injurys like that up close. He found himself unconsciously getting closer to Ariel.
She gave him a side glance but said nothing.
"These were just the ones we were able to save. The villiage needs more warriors. If anyone thinks you are healthy, they will waste no time throwing you back into battle."
"But I'm not a warrior," Jairo blurted out. The words felt clumsy in a throat that was physically different, the voice deeper and raspier than the one he'd had yesterday. "I mean, look at me. I can barely stand without feeling like the room is spinning."
"You'll have no choice. Its why she brought you here." Jairo couldn't see the woman, but no doubt she was giving him a look of pity.
Ariel turned to him. "My father is a well respected warrior in the villiage. If me and grandma Annalise both cover for you, i can train you for a few weeks."
"Train me?" Jairo asked, his voice cracking slightly. The idea was appealing, but the reality of it was daunting. He looked at his paws—thick, padded, and tipped with claws that felt like they belonged to someone else. He didn't know how to fight; the only combat he'd ever experienced was through a controller and a monitor. "I don't know the first thing about... whatever it is you people do here. I can't even walk in a straight line right now."
"What choice do you have?" Ariel looked at him a bit annoyed. She loved him to death, but he would also have to pitch in in order to save his own life.
"I guess you're right," Jairo sighed, the sound coming out as a low, vibrating rumble in his chest. He looked around the healer's hut, which smelled of dried herbs and old blood. The sight of the wounded men—some missing limbs, others wrapped in stained linens—grounded him in a terrifying reality. This wasn't a quest with a save point; there was no menu to reload from if he messed up his training.
Ariel didn't wait for him to spiral. She grabbed his forearm, her grip surprisingly strong, and steered him toward the exit. "Come on. First, we need to get some food in you. You look like a stray that's been rained on for a week."