Fracture

The clanging and quiet mutterings forced him awake. Frewin groggily sat up, reaching to wipe the sleep from his eyes, but was forced to remember the stump that was now his arm.

“Oh.”

His attention shifted from his arm as he heard another clang and finally took in his surroundings. It was a dim cottage illuminated by a few oil lamps placed interspersed around the room and candles whose wax melted into the table. The small cottage was uncomfortably warm and stuffy, leaving the sheets he laid upon sticky and moist from his sweating. A fire crackled along the wall unattended as herbs and flowers hung strung about the ceiling. Frewin swung his feet out onto the floor, startling himself as dried petals and leaves crunched underfoot. He pushed himself off the bed with a grunt and struggled to keep his balance, his arm throbbed painfully. A pathetic yelp wrenched itself from his throat, surprising him at how every part of him physically ached. His knees buckled once before giving out, forcing himself onto the ground in a loud crash.

“You were not supposed to be out of bed just yet.” The softness of the voice brought his attention from his sad state to the doorway. The voice belongs to a girl, possibly no older than her twenties at best. Her pale hair collected the colors of the candle flames giving her a sort of halo as her eyes stared down at him-whether it was pity or not he wasn’t sure.

“You’re still weak, you are still on bed rest.” Her tone reminded him greatly of his mother scolding him anytime he misbehaved; commanding and strict, but gentle enough that you wouldn’t feel berated. Soft, but harsh enough you know you did wrong. She slipped her arms under his to lift him back into the bed. Once back, she slipped a stool over and began replacing the wrappings on his arm. It hadn’t even occurred to him to check the state he was in before examining his surroundings. The bandage wrappings she was working to remove were otherwise clean except for the slight browning near the end of his elbow. His chest was covered in a crossing of gauze patches and bruises and he was only dressed from the waist down in light pants.

“Where am I?” Frewin asked, returning his attention to her.

“My cottage.”

Frewin was taken aback by her response. Usually, most people at least gave a more specific response.

“Which is…where exactly?”

“Mephione. You were passed out outside of Saria so I brought you back here to tend to your wounds. You were blistered up and on the verge of death of dehydration by the time, I found you. Birds were also making quite the feast of your arm here.” The woman ended her retelling with a slight chuckle. She laid the dirty bandages in a pile beside her stool and began wiping a cold salve over where his arm had been amputated. He noticed the skin was rather smooth, all the dark black scabbing had been entirely removed and replaced by thick, dark pink scar tissue. Some tissue had noticeably been pecked away, presumably by the birds.

“Mephione? That’s at least four days of traveling from Saria. How long have I been here? Also, what did you do to my arm? It looked far worse previously.”

“Almost two weeks now.”

“Right, and what did you do to my arm?”

“Thickle root and sunshade herb.” Her tone was matter-of-fact but cheerful, at least. A lot better than pseudo scolding. Of course, it was thickle root and sunshade. What else would it have been? Even if he had no idea what such things they were, how could he guess it was anything but. He could do nothing but simply nod.

“The burnt skin was a bit too damaged so I had to scrape away the charred bits and the scabs. What was lost to the birds I couldn’t do anything about. A paste made from the thickle root and sunshade was able to heal what skin would’ve just scabbed over again and help with some of the scarrings, though with a wound like this I’m not even sure you would have cared anyway,” She gave a half-hearted shrug, “Everything else was making sure you were getting fluids and solids in your stomach and taking care of the minor wounds and sunburns. By the way, if my nosing is permitted, what happened?”

“What happened?”

“It is not normal to find someone unconscious and as injured as you were. Your wound was also fairly fresh, too.”

“Before I get to that, do you mind me asking some questions of my own?”

The woman seemed taken aback at his inquiry, her silvery eyes giving him a confused look before delving into a small smile. The more Frewin studied her the more she confused him. She certainly had to be from somewhere further away than Mephione. Everyone from his corner of the country was dark- from varying shades of dark red hair to pure black, brown eyes, and tanned skin. She, however, seemed to have been molded from the moon; skin pale enough to nearly glow, her platinum locks constantly catching the light from the fire and seemingly stealing the brightness of it, and her eyes like liquid mercury.

“Anyway…” Frewin interrupted no one as she never responded, he just didn’t want to keep staring, “who are you, anyway? Where are you from? It’s evident you’re not from this area, you’re wearing too fine of cloth and too many jewels to be from a poor farming country.”

“Ambrosine. However, I cannot answer where I’m from. You see, I simply don’t know!” She chuckled. Such a light-hearted laugh really offsets the severity of her statement.

“You…don’t know? Surely, you must have some idea of where you’re from. I’m Frewin of Saria, which means you have to be Ambrosine of…?”

“I cannot lay claim to a land I have no idea of hailing from. It would be a fraudulent identity. Though, the closest to anywhere would be Mephione, as it’s been my home for a couple of months now.”

“So, Ambrosine of Mephione,” he attempted to sit up on his good elbow to face her before the pain flared up and forced him back down.

“I believe that is enough for the day, you’re still recovering so it would not be right of me to keep you up any longer.” Ambrosine shot from her seat to help him lay back down, fluffing the small pillow under him and bringing the blanket back up to his chin after checking his bandages once more. Before Frewin could respond, she had him tucked in and the candles and lanterns blown out. Ambrosine had left the room briskly, not even pausing to say goodnight. With the room completely immersed in darkness, save for what little moonlight trickled in from the windows, Frewin found himself staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the trickling of water coming from somewhere- probably a nearby stream or river.

He sighed to himself as he went over what had happened. Her name was Ambrosine. She had no idea where she came from but lived in Mephione for a few months. Obviously had some medical knowledge, at least enough to tend to his wounds and make salves. Judging by the contents of her home it was safe to bet she had extensive knowledge about plants and crystals. She got antsy when he began pressing her about her own identity, something he found the most interesting. Frewin shrugged mentally, too many thoughts and questions to begin sifting through at the current moment. His body ached and he was grateful to just have woken up in the home of someone who helped him rather than injured him further. At least, he assumed so.

~

He wasn’t sure when he dozed off, but the sunlight streaming through the open curtains was enough to rouse him. It streamed in and was caught among the strewn about crystals and covered the room with a myriad of colors, making the small room look as though it had been splattered by a painter. He sat up and noticed a considerate difference in the pain; it was still there, but more so a dull pain that was manageable.

Frewin managed to sit up and drop his feet to the floor, the crunching petals and leaves greeting him again. A familiar face popped into the doorway.

“Good morning,” she greeted him in a rather sing-song tone, “how are you feeling today?”

“A lot better than last night, thanks to you. I suppose I’m in your debt now.”

His words brought about a small chuckle from the woman as she stepped into the room to toss him a pile of clothing.

“I need to go out to the village today to collect supplies. I trust you’ll be safe till I return? I saved some leftovers from breakfast that should hold you over till I return tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to have my help?” he slipped the shirt on over his head. “It’d be nice to have a travel friend, plus I can’t stay here forever. I’d enjoy being able to get a sense of my surroundings.”

Ambrosine seemed to be taking his words into consideration as she nodded, a thumb to her chin to accentuate her thinking.

“I would suppose so, but you are injured. You should stay here to rest.”

“No, I insist. It’s my arm that’s injured- not my legs. Besides, if I’ve been here as long as you’ve said, then I’ve spent more than enough time resting up.” Frewin attempted to give her his most convincing smile.

She gave him a shrug, “If you say. Dress and eat fast while I finish prepping then.”

The trek was surprisingly quiet with Ambrosine barely responding to any of his questions or quips. He’d comment on the surrounding plants, many not common or seen at all in his area, only to be greeted with a nod or a muted agreement. She was noticeably less talkative than she had been the night before.

“Have I managed to offend you somehow? Am I talking too much?” he attempted.

She slid her gaze over slowly, her silver eyes catching the sunlight and looking nearly transparent. Her eyes in the daylight caught him off guard and put a weird stone in the pit of his stomach. Wherever she must have originated from surely had to be remote.

“No, I’m just not familiar with having company during my outings.”

“Can I continue my questions from last night, at least?”

“I suppose.”

“Do you have any recollection of where you’re from?”

“I already told you I do not. Do you take me for a liar or a fool?”

Frewin flinched at the tone of her voice and mulled over other questions to change the topic.

“Why Mephione?”

“It was the closest village to where I found myself and had lodging that wasn’t too close to others. I prefer a more secluded home rather than being so close to the neighbor you’re practically sharing a yard.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Frewin shrugged before letting the conversation end.

~

The town was larger than Frewin had anticipated, at least double the size of his entire village. The establishments had a constant revolving of patrons entering and leaving, chatter leaked out from the tavern whose light illuminated the street outside. A group of drunken friends made their unsteady staggering towards home or another pub.

“It seems we have arrived too late. Perhaps we should locate an inn and stay till morning.” Ambrosine looked up and down the streets, with the area so crowded it made it difficult to get bearings. “Oh, there it is! End of the path. Magnolia House.”

“Awful quaint for the bustle.” He remarked, following her as she weaved through the crowd.

The inn was fairly large, the double doors lead into an open yet empty parlor with the decorative furniture as the only patrons. If not for the lit sconces, the area would’ve been completely pitch black.

“You’d think for an operating inn they would light a few more candles,” Frewin remarked as he approached the innkeeper’s desk.

“Maybe it’s closed.” Ambrosine mused.

“Then we wouldn’t have been able to enter.” He retorted as he nosed around the desk, “I don’t even see a records book.”

“That’s because I keep it in my quarters.”

The voice echoed loudly through the empty parlor causing Frewin to jump slightly.

“Do you mind not going through my belongings? That’s quite rude of you.”

The owner of the voice came descending from the stairs to the right of the desk, her heels clacking as she took each step. Her eyes stared at them hard as if she were challenging him to keep rustling through her belongings. She reached the bottom of the staircase with a final loud clack, her dark eyes swallowing the light of the few lit candles nearly instantly.

“Why are you here?”

“We’re-“

“We arrived late and need room to board in till morning. Are you able to provide accommodations?” Ambrosine cut him off, her voice taut as she stared down the other. The tension in the room spiking.

“I would prefer you not speak to me unless necessary. You reek.” The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed at her and looked towards the parlor door. “You, boy. Why have you come?”

“My friend- Ambrosine- needed supplies. I’ve been…sorta injured, you see.” he motioned toward his stumped arm, “My injuries ran her supply clean and we needed to pick up some from this town but we got here late. Could you kindly rent us a room?”

Her expression softened when he showed his arm but hardened up again when Ambrosine tried to enter back into the conversation. “I can rent you one of my rooms. Your…companion can find a spare rug to lay on for the night.”

With that, she turned back up the stairs, her heels were the only sound left.

“You should follow after her lest you get left behind.” Ambrosine gave him a gentle push on the back.

“We can’t really stay here, can we? She had no reason to be so rude to you- staying you stink, giving you such a weird look, saying you have to sleep on that floor? That’s not fair to you.”

Her smile was soft and gentle, her face becoming nearly angelic when illuminated by the candlelight. A stark contrast to the innkeeper. Ambrosine’s features were softened by the light, her eyes pale like water under the moon and her hair even brighter. The innkeeper was darkened- her murky eyes devoured light, and her hair reflected the light like an oil slick.

“Go on it’s fine. Not the first time I’ve heard those words.”

“If…If you say so.” Frewin sighed and went after the other.

~

The inn groaned underfoot no matter where he stepped. The floorboards, though not quite ready to fall through yet, were a dingy brown, the finish has rubbed off in several places and left the wood almost gray. The wallpaper had peeled off almost every wall, water damage marked the ceiling in several spots. Everything vaguely smelled of mildew.

“I already know you’re thinking it. You wouldn’t be the first.” She said, barely loud enough to hear over the creaking.

“What do you mean?”

“This place is a dump. Who’d want to waste their money here? The only things stupid enough to stay the night are the rats in the walls.” The innkeeper stopped in front of one of the doors and turned to him, the sconces on the walls were lit just enough for him to catch a change in expression.

“I didn’t-“

“Save it. I don’t take offense.” She fished a key out of the pocket on her dress. “Here’s the key to your room. I’d be out at sunrise if I were you.”

“Why? Are you going to charge us a late checkout?”

Not even a hint of amusement.

“I’m being serious.”

“What’s your name?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your name,” Frewin repeated. “Mine’s Frewin, you already know Ambrosine. She’s the one who you said smelled.”

Whatever current softness she might have let escape was replaced incredibly fast by the reoccurring anger that surfaced at the mention of Ambrosine.

“I don’t care to know you or your pet monster. Get to bed so you can leave.” Floorboards creaking and heels clicking were the only company he had left in the hallway.

He gave a heavy sigh and put the key into the door and retreated inside.

~

The bed reeked of mold, the blankets felt moist. He wasn’t sure if it was how humid the bedroom was or if the bed itself was just wet. It just absolutely stunk of mold, causing him to toss and turn constantly before finally giving up and throwing the blankets off him. He rolled to his side, his legs dangling off the bed, and forced himself up off the bed with a loud grunt. A sharp pain shot through his chest; Let over injuries, he thought to himself.

He struggled a bit to get his clothing back on. His bad arm caught onto the fabric in odd ways that made him hiss in pain. Eventually, with several more loud complaints and barks of pain. He pulled open the door and nearly ran into her.

“What are you doing up?”

“Isn’t that what I should say to you? I own this place, it’s not unusual for me to be awake but rather for my patrons.”

“It smells like mold.”

She sighed, a half-angry- yet expected look at this point- decorated her face.

“Anyway, why are you awake?” he pressed.

“I…heard all the noise you were making. I feared the dog decided to bite the owner.”

“The dog?”

“Your friend or whatever you call her.” Her arms were folded. “How’d you get a monster like that to even obey you?”

Be it either exhaustion, pain, or just the general annoyance that the smell of rotting fabric clung to him, he felt his anger tip over. He grabbed her by the front of her nightgown and brought her close. His other arm throbbed hastily with his quickened pulse.

“What is your problem? All you’ve done since we’ve arrived is mock and insult her! What has she done to you?”

It wasn’t particularly difficult for her to break his grasp on her, a hard smack to his still injured arm was enough to have him release her gown but only made his temper flare up more. He raised his hand to her but it hovered in the air completely still, her eyes staring at him and challenging him to do it.

Do it, her eyes twinkled as a grin slowly formed.

The sound his closed palm made across her echoed down the empty hall as her head snapped to the side. The sound and the stinging in his hand brought him back to his senses. The rage he was previously feeling dropped and landed in his stomach like a heavyweight. Several seconds passed with neither one making noise, her eyes focused on something in the distance.

“I’m so sor-“

“No, I understand it now.”

He lowered his arm, rubbing at the wrapped stump of his other.

“You were right. She’s not your little pet abomination on a leash. You’re the little pet being marched around.”

Frewin wasn’t sure how to react. His entire mind had completely shut down in the last few minutes forcing himself to run solely on emotion, though that too had been shut down. He didn’t feel angry or tired anymore, not even confused or intrigued by her quip. He felt nothing. He felt everything. He struggled to comprehend what she meant.

“I want you out by morning.” She didn’t face him, she didn’t reach toward the forming handprint on her cheek. She didn’t give emotion to her words. She turned and left him alone in the hallway as she retreated back to her room.