Living Proof

Chapter Six

He wiggled his toes.

No pain.

He slowly rolled his foot.

No pain.

He lifted his leg.

A low hiss leaked through his teeth at the slow, hot sting that rolled upward through his thigh, up into his hip, and proceeded to spread throughout his entire body. An icy sweat prickled along his back, down his chest, and his leg trembled as he tried to push through the pain. The tremble worsened. The sting burned far brighter.

"Son of a—" He clamped his lips together as the muscles refused to obey him any longer and his leg dropped back to the sofa, which sent fresh waves of pain coursing through him. His eyes closed of their own, his jaw clenched so tightly, he thought for a moment his teeth might actually shatter.

Fortunately, Kaia was not there to witness his latest humiliation. He had no idea where she'd gone, but when he awoke that morning, he was alone in the cabin. And it was probably just as well. He had no desire to face her, although he felt as if he owed her an apology. She'd come to him out of concern and he'd taken his guilt out on her. She'd gone out of her way to patch him back together and nurse him through the worst of it, and for no reason other than she was kind.

He brought both hands to his face (his left arm a bit more slowly than his right, since it stung every time he moved it as well) and slowly rubbed as if that would somehow alleviate the guilt that threatened to eat him alive.

For all the good it did. His hands went still and he winced as he lowered his left arm once more. Five days had passed since Kaia brought him into her cabin, and he had no way of knowing how long he'd lain in the clearing. The last thing he remembered was being on his knees, fighting to remain upright and conscious, staring into the dead, black eyes of the orc pulling back the string of a bow aimed at him, somewhere between his eyes, Boromir thought.

He winced and this time, his wounds had nothing to do with it. How had he escaped promised death? He couldn't recall. All he remembered was staring up at the ugly orc, seeing that black arrow aimed for him, and then... nothing. He remembered nothing until Kaia knelt beside him and whispered, "There, there..."

At the time, he was half-blind from the searing pain coursing through him, but now, as he lay there calmly, and almost comfortably, on that sofa, the images he tried to coax forth came to him more clearly now.

Sunlight shifted down through the treetops and the silence was almost deafening. He'd never felt such pain, such absolutely agony, and as he tried to force his eyes to focus, and she came into view, he wondered if she'd come to escort him into the shadow realm.

Light danced along her hair, and her voice was as soft and silken as any caress. She helped him to his feet and actually apologized when he couldn't hold back his cry. She'd half-dragged him and he had no idea how far it was from her cabin to that blasted clearing, but somehow, she managed to get him there.

His first few days in her care were, understandably, a blur. He slept mostly. The fever ravaged him for a while. But then... miracle of miracles.

He began to feel like himself.

More or less, anyway.

With a soft groan, he slowly sat up. Moving still hurt, but he'd noticed that it hurt less with each passing day. And while he hadn't done so well with standing the night before, that also had to improve with time as well. He simply needed to be patient and patient was something he was fairly good at.

The kitchen door opened with a squeal and he glanced over as Kaia stepped inside with an armful of wood, which she promptly dropped into the bin. He winced at the echoing clatter, to which she offered up a very insincere, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."