The wind outside of the cave howled as the night fell. The thick blanket of snow and darkness covered Ruthenia. As only the faint glow of the moon provided some sort of comfort.
There inside, under the crackling of fire was Eleanor tended to the man's wound. The space around them shrank as the soft glow illuminated the silhouettes of both.
There on the dusty ground lays a leather armor and a finely made silver sword. The man's back was pressed against the rough cobblestoned wall.
He grunted softly as her nimble fingers worked on his wound. The wound was of a deep, purple gash, the skin around it had teared and had already turned dry. Eleanor glanced up at him from time to time. Her lips pursed in concern as she watched him.
He clutched at the soil, thick lashes hovering above the dip below his eyes. His face had turned pale as he then arched his head back.
Slav's pov:
The wound had started to hurt as the pain in my deep gashes jolted me. Only the soft rustle of her fingertips was my comfort. I arched my back, wincing in pain like a hurt dog as she stole glances off me from time to time.
Then--Her fingers halted. My brows furrowed as my eyes shot opened, quickly landing on her gracious face.
Her lips quivered as she examined the wound further, then her voice came out lower than the wind outside
--D-Does it really hurt?
She then glanced up at me; tears clung her flimsy lashes. I met her face calm, amused at her reaction.
Then nodded. She then began to wrap my leg with a damp cloth. just as she worked her way up--I caught her hands by surprise. I clutched her fingers, softly caressing it.
Her breath hitched, m-master Slav...? her voice crumbled as we locked eyes. Wolf--like one's meeting with an ocean-like blues. Our breath mingled as the air around as crackled. Our faces were inches away.
My voice came out low, breathy, "how is your hand?" I murmured, the thread if her brown locks fluttered slightly.
I... her voice trailed off as she noticed out our space, feeling my pressing gaze her eyes fell to her hands. I still held her, grazed her fingers in that soft manner.
Her hands were battered, delicate skin teared by the icy shards. I gazed at her, eyes searching for any pain--Though she didn't wince nor pull away. She just stayed rigid.
Then--The image of her patting at my face flashed through me. My heart clenched, she had looked desperate as if she was to lose a part of herself. Her tears trailed over my cold, knocked out body. Her touch had given me life...
Now staring at her, she looked at me almost in a coy manner. Her lips then parted, "I suppose you were not alone? master? she asked, trying to ease the awkwardness that clung the air.
My head tilted as I watched her fidget, then my eyes darted,
"BROTHER!" my brother had yelled as he threw himself in front of me. The arrow of the coward pierced through his chest as he then flopped to the ground.
The air in my lungs knocked out of me as I then saw his knee buckle, his hands clutched at the deep gash and the tip of the arrow. His eyes were wide, loss of all hope.
He then flopped to the ground with a thud--His armor hitting the thick snow as he panted for air.
YAROSLAV!!!!
my voice pierced the night, sending a shudder through the leaves of the enormous forest. I sprinted to him, tears blurring my vision as I yelled.
My knees faltered as I then fell, franticly I took him in my lap and patted his face. His panting slowed, his eyes had begun to shut.
My eyes
Yaroslav...brother, say something, Yaroslav...!
My voice pressed. His mouth then parted, pleading for me to find his attacker.
I snapped back, noticing her questioning face.
"No one"...