At first, there were only sounds; low, constant sounds coming from somewhere nearby….. Probably a meter at 5 o'clock. Slow footsteps gradually became louder, the person in question stopped, and I felt a cold but wet sensation on my abdomen.
This world, this world of mine with nothing but touch and feel, is all I've known for the past few days. I cannot allow this to go on; I must return to my post and report my findings to the queen.
Next came a world without color. When I opened my eyes, a young woman with patterned scales on her cheeks met my eyes. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in shock. Slowly, these lips curved into a soft smile, and an audible sigh of relief escaped from them. She did a little dance and ran to a desk full of books, stationery, and parchment.
Taking a closer look at her, her hair was in a disarray, messily tied in a loose ponytail; she wore a maid's dress, ragged and patched with all sorts of mismatched fabrics; her sleeves hastily rolled up which revealed her pale, wrinkled skin; there were faint patterns of scales on her wet arms, slightly glimmering under the lights of the oil lamps. I looked at the bedside and noticed a basin of water, the floor moist from what I assume is spillage from the basin.
Has she been tending to my wounds the whole time?
I closely watched her every move. Who is she, and why is she taking care of me? I remember falling close to the enemy base. Is she getting closer to me to gather inside information?
I braced myself for the worst.
She returned to my side with a paper and quill in her hands. The paper had cursive writings on it.
"Good evening, sir. If you want to communicate with me, then please use this paper to write. I'm deaf."
"What…?" I uttered in shock.
She handed me a bundle of parchment and my own quill. How low of the enemy to use the disabled as their agents. Is this their new tactic of espionage? I should escape at once; there's too much I don't know. I need to return to base.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and I saw that the girl had a new message for me.
"I can also lipread if it's too much trouble, but please make sure to properly face me." She smiled tenderly.
The smile on her face was replaced by a look of shock. She quickly scribbled something on her parchment.
"I'm sorry! I forgot to ask how you were feeling…. Can you write, Sir?"
I figured that it was safe to answer this question for now.
"Yes, I'm feeling better. Though it's pretty hard for me to distinguish color and my abdomen still has a stinging pain. Otherwise, I'm fine." I said clearly, making sure that her bright eyes were able to follow my words.
"That's good. May I ask for your name?"
Is it safe for me to give out my name?
If she was a spy, giving out my name would confirm that I have valuable information on me. Even if I stay silent, someone might have a unique magic to peer into my brain. The second phase of our plan is about to commence soon; it'll be troublesome if the details get leaked.
Even if she wasn't a spy, I'm a wanted soldier. I'm sure my name is well-known and if it gets out that she's associated with me— she's going to suffer a fate worse than death. Either way, there's nothing beneficial from me sharing my name.
"I forgot."
Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her right hand. She tapped on the paper with her white quill, unsure of what to respond with. Her hands hovered over the surface before she actually started to write, but still, she did so in a delicate manner.
Whatever it is, there's no need. I tried getting up from the bed, but the sharp pain in my abdomen made me flinch.
A loud thump echoed in the room, she stood up so quickly her chair fell over. Some of her paper got wet from the spillage from earlier, and the dark ink spilled on the lighter hardwood floor. She didn't bat an eye on the mess she made upon her exaggerated reactions; instead, she lifted my shirt gently. It seemed like my wound opened up.
Her light eyes were cold as they assessed me. She stared into my face, I assume she was evaluating my overall condition.
"It's okay. You've given me enough care already— I can't possibly impose on you more," I reasoned.
She shook her head vigorously and looked at me with a pleading expression. She scrambled to gather her fallen writing materials from the floor and messily penned a reply.
"It's too dangerous! There's fighting outside!"
That's exactly why I needed to go.
Of course, there was no way I could tell her that. I held on to my abdomen and reassessed my current state. I think I can make it to the Valley of Thorns without being seen. It'll be hard to see the signals with my color blindness, but it'll be safer for me to be in my home base.
I felt a tug on my sleeve. When I looked up, I saw that there was a new message.
"It's no trouble for me. I just want you to feel better, mister."
As I was shaking my head, she flipped the page.
"I'm sorry," was written shakily. The page had scattered tear marks on them.
I looked up at her, and only then did I see her tears streaming down her face. Her scales were more visible than before, and slits appeared on the sides of her thin neck.
"Don't go outside." She spoke in a melodic voice, clear and commanding. Her light eyes glowed lighter as she looked into mine, and I became a captive of her overwhelming presence.
All of a sudden, I had no desire to leave.