Harold watched as Jini dragged herself back onto the stone bed.
She moved with sharp, jerking motions, every twitch of her tentacles betraying her discomfort.
Her teeth clenched, yet she refused to let out so much as a hiss of pain.
"Stubborn one, aren't you," Harold muttered under his breath, easing himself to his feet.
He raised his hand slowly, letting the system panel flicker into view.
With a practiced thought, he willed the new tools into being.
A thin wooden dowel appeared first, smooth and pale, followed by a coil of twine that unspooled in his palm.
The reaction was immediate.
Jini flinched back as though he'd drawn a blade.
Her tentacles flared wide, her eyes flashing with predator's light.
Muscles bunched in her arms and legs, her claws twitching with the impulse to strike.
Harold froze.
"Easy, easy," he said quickly, raising both hands in plain sight. "It's not a weapon. Not for hurting. For fixing."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I don't expect you to trust me yet," Harold continued, his tone steady, calm, the way he'd spoken to dozens of frightened patients in the past. "But this?" He held up the dowel and twine carefully. "This will help keep your leg straight. It'll heal better that way. No tricks. No traps."
Jini hissed through her teeth, suspicion still sharp as a blade.
But she didn't lunge.
That was enough.
Harold exhaled slowly and stepped closer. "Alright, let's get you sorted, then, but i'll warn you know its gonna hurt until i get the bone set again."
He crouched by her injured leg.
The previous splint—little more than two crude sticks held on by bandages was laying discard on the floor, either it broke off when she stood up, or she'd torn it off herself.
He could already see the swelling spreading around the break.
Left unchecked, it would heal crooked, maybe not at all.
"Gonna need to reset this," Harold muttered. "Won't be fun, but it'll be worth it."
Jini's eyes burned holes into the top of his skull, but she didn't stop him.
That was the closest thing to permission he was going to get.
Working carefully, he aligned the new dowel against her leg.
Her muscles tensed instantly, a hiss rattling from her throat, but Harold kept his movements gentle, deliberate.
"Steady, steady," he murmured, looping the twine around to secure the wood in place.
His fingers worked with an efficiency born of years of watching nurses and residents do the same job.
Not pretty, not fast—but solid.
The system chimed faintly in the back of his mind.
Casting [Level 0] +0.3
Splinting [Level 2] +0.1
Harold blinked, then chuckled under his breath.
"Well, how about that. Guess I really did 'cast' it, didn't I?"
Jini tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face at his sudden laugh.
But she didn't move—not until Harold tied off the last knot and sat back with a tired sigh.
"There," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Better than before. Should hold."
Her eyes lingered on the dowel, then on him.
Still wary.
Still sharp.
But maybe—just maybe—a fraction less hostile.
"Alright, leg's done. Let's check the rest of you."
He reached for the bandages across her torso.
The cloth was stiff, dark with dried blood, and beginning to stink faintly of rot that had set in overnight thanks to the heat of this land.
She tensed again as his fingers brushed the knots.
"I need to see the stitches," Harold explained gently. "If the wound's infected, I have to clean it."
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't push him away.
Instead, she leaned back slightly, granting him the barest space to work.
"That's it," Harold said softly. "Thank you."
He began unwrapping the bandages, layer by layer, until the crude stitching he'd put in during the chaos of the forest came into view.
The sight made him wince.
The lines weren't straight, the knots uneven.
A real surgeon would've ripped him apart for the sloppy work.
But the skin was knitting, pink at the edges instead of black or grey.
It was holding.
"Not bad," Harold murmured. "Could be worse. Could be a lot worse."
He reached out mentally again, summoning fresh supplies.
This time the system gave him a re-rolled grey slightly soiled bandage, cleaner and sturdier than the scraps he'd been working with before, and much better replacements for the old ones he'd just taken off her.
He tugged it once, testing the give, then set about replacing the old wrappings, being careful to not bind them to loose or to tight.
Forearm, bicep, thigh, abdomen.
Bandage after bandage was removed and replaced, she was not wearing more bandages than clothes at this point.
Jini's eyes never left him.
Her breath was steady, but Harold could feel the coiled tension beneath her skin—the way she was ready to spring at the slightest hint of betrayal.
Yet when he finally tied off the bandage and pulled back, she exhaled slowly, almost reluctantly.
"There," Harold said, sitting back on his heels. "That should hold for a while. Keep you clean, keep you safe, should have you all better except for the leg within a weeks time."
For a moment, the room was silent but for the faint hum of the fungal glow.
Then Jini spoke.
"You… fixed me."
It wasn't gratitude.
Not exactly.
More like disbelief.
"I told you," Harold said with a faint smile. "I'm a healer."
She tilted her head, tentacles stirring faintly.
"You use… strange magic."
He chuckled.
"Not magic. Just medicine. Tools and training. Though here…"
He glanced at the system's fading glow.
"…guess you could call it magic."
Jini stared at her leg, then her bandaged torso.
Her hand hovered over the fresh wrappings, not quite touching.
"You delay death," she said at last, her tone less certain than before.
Harold leaned back against the table, tired but satisfied.
"Maybe. Or maybe I give life a fighting chance."
Her eyes snapped back to him, unreadable.
For the first time since their conversation began, Harold didn't feel hunted.
Watched, yes.
Judged, certainly.
But not prey.
Progress.
"Alright, Jini," Harold said, letting his head fall back against the stone. "That's enough for now. Get some rest. Let those bones settle. I'll head out and get some water, see about finding some food for you as well."
She didn't answer, but she didn't lunge either.
That was good enough, the experience had been exhausting for her, and she was still tired from just being injured and her body using all its energy to focus on healing.
As she closed her eyes, the last thing she saw was the back of the strange man leaving through the door, leaving her alone in this room.