When something bad happens to the ones you love, don’t question it. Focus. You’ll have ample time for prayers and doubts AFTER you stop the bleeding.

The morning sun pierced the fragile clouds, pushing its warm glow between the trees. The heavy smoke from the village had flooded the valley, masking its location.

“They’ll be coming soon,” Wendell stressed. He held the mare steady, stroking her neck and watching the path behind them.

“Shut your mouth,” snapped Evan. He knelt over Hiram, still cradling his arm from a dislocated shoulder. He looked tenderly to his mother as she sat upon the ground, stroking the head of her little boy. “What can I do?” he whispered.

Tears mixed with dirt and soot, leaving dark streaks down Miriam’s cheeks. She blinked, as if waking up. Her small, nimble fingers tore at the gray cloth of Hiram’s tunic around the wound. The arrow had struck deep—the shaft jutting out next to his spine. The boys breathing was shallow. His rib cage shuddered with each breath.

“We need to remove arrow,” she said firmly. She looked over at the mare, then to the stallion, “Bring me my pouches.”

“I’ll get them,” said Wendell.

“We’re going to need to set your shoulder soon, Evan,” Miriam stressed, “I’ll need your help and you aren’t any use to us with a lame arm.”

Evan nodded silently.

Wendell handed the bags to Miriam, “Here.”

With a deft calmness, she untied the leather straps and fished through the contents until she produced a tiny jar and a small, folded, stained piece of cloth. She looked around her, squinting. “I need dandelion root.”

Evan scrambled to his feet and worked his way through the trees, weaving in and out. He panicked, “There aren’t any left!”

“Keep looking,” his mother encouraged him, “The frost is not come yet—they’re still in bloom.”

Wendell knelt next to Miriam and whispered, “We need to get off the main path.” He glanced over his shoulder nervously. Though the screaming had stopped, Wendell could still hear barking, howling and laughing from the village below. “It won’t be long before they come up here,” he looked at her pleadingly, “They’ll follow the path. They’ll track us down. They’ll track everyone down.”

“I told you to SHUT UP!” growled Evan, and he kicked Wendell in the thigh. “My little brother just took an arrow for YOU. So I don’t want to hear another word from your mouth, until he’s been cared for!”

It’s not that Wendell was trying to be difficult. He certainly didn’t wish ill upon the boy. What am I supposed to say? He watched Hiram flinch as his mother inspected the point of entry with her fingers. Nothing I say is going to be right, he realized. Evan has every right to be angry.

Miriam folded the torn piece of cloth and motioned for Wendell to stay close. “When I pull the shaft from him, you place this on the wound and push,” she grabbed his hand and applied pressure as an example. “Grab his shoulder with your other hand and do not let go of him, or release that pressure, until I tell you to, do you understand?”

“Why him?” Evan glared at Wendell, “This is all his fault!”

“That’s ENOUGH,” she countered. Miriam allowed her eyes to roll upward without lifting her head. The effect was a sobering scowl that her son backed away from. “You’re in no condition to help me, Evan. Stop blaming, stop thinking and give me those roots!”

Evan opened his palm—tiny green leaves rolled over his fingers, hints of yellow peeking out from the petals.

Picking up a small stick near her knee, Miriam slid it between her son’s teeth. “Bite down, Hiram,” she whispered and kissed his forehead.

Hiram’s pale lips quivered.

Miriam looked up at Wendell and took a deep breath. “Ready?”

Wendell gulped, his hands already clammy. He stared down at Hiram’s face. Sweat trickled down the slope of his nose and dropped to the ground. His lips were a powdered blue. Wendell’s heart shouted no, I’m not ready…but he nodded anyway.

Putting the roots in her mouth, Miriam chewed vigorously, positioning her hand over the arrow. With a swift yank, she pulled the shaft straight out from Hiram’s back.

Blood gushed from the wound. Hiram shuddered, his hands gripping the end of his mothers blouse, teeth sinking through wood. Then all at once, he went limp.

Wendell gripped Hiram’s shoulder tight and applied the folded bandage to the wound. The blood kept coming. It seeped through the cloth, between his fingers. The deep red pooled in the creases between his fingers and dripped over his thumb.

“Uh, Miriam?” he stammered, not knowing what to do. So much blood!

She tore another piece from her shawl, quickly folded it and added it on top of the soaked one. She replaced Wendell’s hand, pushing firmly to remind him how to do it. Then she tore a third piece, much larger than the other two and folded it. Pulling the cork from the jar, Miriam doused the center of the cloth. There was a bitter, earthy scent to the liquid that made Wendell’s nose scrunch. Unfolding the stained cloth, she took a pinch of a bright red powder and sprinkled it in the center of the moist cloth. Lastly she held the cloth up to her mouth and spit out the roots.

“Roll him onto his belly.”

Both Wendell and Evan turned Hiram onto his stomach.

He moaned.

“It’ll be alright,” Miriam whispered, and lifted Wendell’s hand from the wound. “Here.” Quickly adding the concoction directly to the punctured skin, she guided Wendell’s hand back to the wound.

Wendell was surprised to see her smile at him. “You’re doing fine,” she said, “Just hold it there until I can wrap it up.”

She proceeded to tear the remaining shawl into long strips.

The bushes rustled behind Wendell.

Evan jumped to his feet and ran to the horses. Grabbing the war hammer in his good hand, he shuffled backwards, positioning himself between his family and the trees.

“It us!” came a gruff voice. An older man, with grey hair, broad shoulders and a round stomach pushed through the shrubs. He held both his hands up as he lumbered into the clearing. He was accompanied by three other men and…

“Livi!” Evan cried. Dropping the hammer, the blacksmith dashed to her side, dropped to his knees and threw his good arm around her. He hugged her tightly. “You’re safe,” he breathed gratefully.

“I think you lost something, Miriam,” said the burly man. He wore a sword at his hip and a short bow over his shoulder. The other men remained silent, though they started at Hiram. “Not a time to be playing hide and seek.”

Miriam bowed her head ever so slightly, “Thank you, Emeric.”

His serious expression didn’t change, but he nodded in return. “Have you seen where our people fled?” he asked.

“They fled in every direction,” Evan replied, looking up, “though most ran through the west forest. I can only imagine they’re escaping to Haden.” His forehead crinkled, “Where…were you, during the fight for the village?” Evan glanced between the men suspiciously.

Emeric met Miriam’s gaze, but the others avoided any eye contact. “That fat mayor of ours led us away,” he cursed.

Wendell could see the anger in their faces. The shame.

“We had fair warning before the enemy arrived,” Emeric started, “Shane brought us word. So the mayor had this bright idea to take the men folk and lead an armed group into the forest to ambush the enemy directly. We all figured it was better to meet the enemy on our terms and keep them from our women and children. But after a speedy march, that fat excuse for a man had no intention of saving our village. He led us out, so we could save his skin!” Emeric paused, gritting his teeth in frustration and anger. His nostrils flared. “Because of him, we abandoned our wives, our children, our BABIES.”

Evan stood upright, his arm wrapped around Livi’s shoulder. “So where’s Shale now?”

Emeric smiled, “Where he belongs.”

Miriam frowned, “Emeric.”

One of the men stepped forward, unabashed. “We didn’t kill’im, if that’s what yer implyin’—though I think he wished we’ad b’now. Tied the bastard to a tree, we did. Make sure it was close enough ta town, that’r green friends’ll find’m soon ‘nough.” The shadows of the trees produced a sinister look to his grin, “Hopefully they’ll be hungry after a village raid, eh?”

“That’s murder,” Miriam gasped.

Emeric shook his head, his jaw set, “That’s the natural consequence for letting women and children suffer and die.”

Wendell felt nauseous listening to the conversation. How can they be so cold? But his mind flashed with images of children running and screaming. Mothers fleeing with infants in their arms. These men were taken away from their families. They were unable to defend their loved ones, like they wanted to. How many died because of the selfish decisions on another? Men willing to sacrifice themselves for their families…denied. Lied to. Betrayed.

For a moment, he didn’t feel much empathy for the mayor’s plight. Then again, he wouldn’t wish the fate of being eaten on anyone.

“Well you’re just in time, Emeric” said Miriam, “I need your help.”

“We’re on our way to find our families, Miriam,” he answered.

“Won’t take but a moment,” she motioned to Evan, “I need a strong man to hold this one down.”

Emeric smiled, “Your boy needing a paddle on the backside?”

Miriam laughed, “Most likely, but that’s beside the point. I need to set his shoulder.”

A loud howl echoed through the smoke and haze of the village below.

“Then we better make it fast,” hissed Emeric.

Miriam position them all. The large farmer sat up against a tree. She placed Evan on the ground in front of him. Emeric wrapped his massive arms around the blacksmith’s chest. Using both hands, Miriam gripped her son’s thick wrist and braced herself, by placing her tiny foot near Evans collarbone.

“On the count of three,” she said.

Evan grabbed a stick and quickly put it between his teeth.

“One,” she started counting, then arched her back and pulled with all her strength.

There was a loud pop and the wood fell from Evans mouth.

“RAAAHHHHHH!”

Miriam gently lowered his arm down to his lap, “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Emeric chuckled, “I hate to admit it, but I always did want to hear your kid scream in pain.”

The howl echoed again. Much closer this time.

“Time to go,” said Emeric, quickly getting to his feet. “We’ll work our way to the next village. If the gods favor us, we’ll find our people along the way.”

Miriam quickly secured the bandage strips around Hiram’s chest. “I hope you find your families, Emeric.”

The farmer looked at her puzzled, “You’re not coming?”

She shook her head, “Our young friend here,” casually pointing up at Wendell, “has to get to Til-Thorin.”

Emeric looked at his companions. A couple shook their heads, disapprovingly. “Suit yourselves. Though, you’re on a fools errand if you ask me.”

Evans starting up onto his feet, rubbing his shoulder, “That makes two of us.”

Miriam ignored them both. “Evan, I want you to take Hiram with you. You’re the strongest, and the best rider. Livi can ride behind you.”

Without argument, Emeric and another lifted Hiram onto the stallion. Sweat beaded and rolled across the boys forehead. He moaned as they sat him up right, but alert enough to reach out and loop his fingers through the black mane of the stallion. Evans snatched up his war hammer and used a stump to mount behind his brother.

“Good luck to you in finding your loved ones, Emeric,” said Evan, his expression sober. “I mean that.”

For a moment the farmer stared up at the blacksmith. “Did you fight those creatures?” he said, almost regrettably.

“We both did,” Evan replied, giving a brief glance over in Wendell’s direction. “As did Gunthar and Darrick.”

Emeric rubbed King’s muzzle, “Then at least there were four men there to do their duty.” There was a sadness in his face. Regret.

Without another word, the farmer and his companions turned around and vanished into the trees.

Wendell led the mare up to the stump and climbed onto her back. He reached out and gave Miriam hand up.

“You know you don’t have to go with me,” he said, “not if your village is going west. But,” he added, “I think you’ll be safest coming with me.”

“Well listen to him,” muttered Evan, mockingly, “Thinks he’s a hero now, does he?”

Wendell just kept his mouth shut and prodded the mare forward.

Miriam, however, just smiled.