Healing

Wind ripped past Cora’s face, stealing the breath right out of her lungs. Zarek didn't bother looking for a gentle path up the mountain. He scaled the sheer, vertical cliff face with terrifying, raw power. His boots found impossible footholds on the jagged rocks. His massive thighs coiled and sprang, launching them twenty feet into the air with every single leap. The ground fell away into a dizzying, sickening blur. Cora squeezed her eyes shut, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The sheer drop below made her stomach churn.

She clamped her good arm tighter around the bundle of her dirty nightgown, pressing it hard against her chest. She remained hyper-aware of the damp underwear hidden deep inside its folds. If she loosened her grip even a fraction, those waterlogged panties would tumble out and flutter down to the stone floor for the entire tribe to see. The humiliation would actually kill her.

Before Cora could even manage to catch her breath, Zarek cleared the final ledge. He landed with a heavy, solid thud on smooth stone. They had reached the cave.

Cora peeled her eyes open. The space inside was shockingly bright and massive. Sunlight spilled through the wide entrance, illuminating rows of wide stone tables. Each surface was packed tight with ceramic jars, hollowed-out gourds, and woven baskets. The pungent, earthy scent of crushed herbs and dried roots hung thick in the air, scattered across the floor in organized piles.

At the back of the cavern stood Orik Munn. The old healer sported a wild mane of stark white hair and a thick, bushy beard, but his hands moved with steady precision. His eyes, sharp and lively, darted over his collection of medicinal tools.

Zarek gently set Cora down on a clear patch of stone. The moment her bare feet touched the ground, she immediately shifted her grip on the nightgown. She angled the fabric with desperate care, ensuring the opening stayed pinched shut so her underwear remained out of sight.

She caught Zarek watching her awkward movements. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She hurried to explain away her strange behavior. "The dress is dirty. I don't want it to get your hands messy."

Zarek’s hard gaze softened. He looked down at the small, fragile female standing before him. *This cub is so considerate,* he thought, a strange warmth settling in his chest. She was injured, trapped in a stranger's cave, yet she worried about getting some mud on him. He looked away, clearing his throat, and turned his attention to the old man.

"Orik," Zarek called out, his deep voice echoing off the cavern walls. "This female cub's arm is broken."

Orik paused his work and raised his head. He wiped his hands on a rag and strode over. The moment his sharp eyes landed on Cora, his brow twitched. He took in her proportions, the subtle shape of her hips, the bone structure of her face, and the undeniable maturity in her eyes. This wasn't a cub. She was a fully grown adult female, just incredibly petite and delicate compared to the massive beastmen of their kind.

Orik held his tongue. If Zarek wanted to call her a cub, let him. The old healer had more pressing matters to deal with. He stepped up to Cora and reached for her dangling, swollen arm.

Cora hissed, her face twisting into a grimace as pain flared hot and sharp up to her shoulder.

Orik’s fingers prodded the injury with practiced, gentle pressure. His expression turned serious. "The bone is snapped clean through," he announced, his voice gruff but steady. "There are several tiny fragments floating around the break. I'll need to cut through the skin and muscle to get them out."

He gestured toward a rack of sharp bone instruments on a nearby table. "I'll slice your skin open with a bone knife, force the fractured pieces back into their proper place, apply a paste, and then stitch you up. It's the only way you'll survive this without losing the arm to rot."

Zarek’s jaw clenched. A heavy frown pulled at his features. *Cut her skin open?* He stared at Cora's pale face. He had caused this. He had gripped her too hard, and now she had to suffer through this barbaric procedure. *She's so delicate,* Zarek mused, guilt gnawing at his gut. *She'll break down in tears. There is no way she'll agree to this kind of agony.*

Cora, however, wasn't scared by the diagnosis. A massive wave of relief washed over her. *Thank goodness,* she thought, her shoulders dropping slightly. *This guy actually knows his stuff.* She had been terrified the beast world healer would wave some glowing hands over her, chant a spell, and claim she was cured. If he relied on magic nonsense to fix a shattered bone, her arm would heal crooked, or worse, she would die from internal bleeding. The brutal, realistic surgical plan gave her hope.

She turned to Orik, her expression deadpan, no tears in her eyes, no frantic protests escaping her lips. "Sir, can you knock me out before you start?" she asked. "Otherwise, I don't think I can keep from squirming while you dig around in my arm."

Orik let out a booming, clear laugh that rattled the jars on the tables. He turned on his heel and walked into the dark inner chamber of the cave. A moment later, he emerged carrying a heavy, sealed stone jar.

He popped the lid off. A slender, vivid green snake slithered out over the rim. It coiled itself fluidly around Orik’s aged, weathered wrist.

Orik grinned, walking back toward Cora. "Relax. The pain of setting a broken bone is so intense that even the strongest males can't help but squirm and roar. Of course I won't let a fragile female suffer through that agony. This is an anodyne snake. Once it bites you, you won't feel any pain."

Cora eyed the tiny reptile, her gaze locking onto its distinct, triangular head. Alarm bells rang in her mind. *Hold up,* she mused, taking a tiny step back. *That totally looks like a venomous snake. Are they really going to use a venomous snake on me?*

Orik chuckled, noticing her apprehension. "This is our tribe's specific anodyne snake. Its fangs have been treated with a blend of special herbs since it was just a hatchling. Wherever it bites you, the area will go numb."

Cora processed the information. The snake's venom likely acted as a localized neurotoxin, paralyzing the pain receptors without shutting down her heart. It was a biological painkiller.

"Okay," Cora said, her voice shaking just a fraction. She gave a hard nod. Setting her jaw, she reached over with her good hand, pulled back the edge of the fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and presented her swollen, purple arm.

"Go on. Let it bite me."

She tried her hardest to sound tough, but her physical tells gave her away. Her pale lips pressed into a razor-thin line. Her breathing grew shallow. She was terrified.

Orik brought his wrist closer. The anodyne snake slithered off the old man's skin and transferred onto Cora's arm. Its scales felt icy and smooth against her feverish flesh. Cora’s skin shivered. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, her small shoulders trembling under the fur blanket, her whole body strung tight as a bowstring.

Yet, despite the primal fear radiating off her in waves, she didn't flinch. She didn't pull her arm away. She stayed rooted to the spot, offering herself up to the fangs.

Orik stared at her, his heart softening with genuine warmth. *No wonder Zarek mistakes her for a cub,* the old man thought inwardly, a fond smile touching his lips. *When she tucks her chin and huddles up in fear like that, she really looks just like a little one. She's so obedient and lovable. Anyone would want to protect her.*

Zarek stood off to the side, caught off guard. The sight of her squeezing her eyes shut, fighting her own terror just to get healed, struck a chord deep inside him.

*She was obviously scared,* Zarek praised her inwardly, his chest tightening. *But without needing anyone to comfort her, without throwing a tantrum, she stuck out her arm.* He stared at her bruised skin, the guilt returning tenfold. *She really has such a good temper. Even after I broke her arm, she never got mad at me. She never yelled. She even felt bad about letting me touch her dirty clothes just a minute ago. No wonder her tribe keeps her so well-fed. She's too cute. Everyone probably can't help but want to give her more to eat.*

Zarek stepped closer. His eyes, usually cold and unyielding, softened into something dangerously tender. He reached out with a massive, calloused hand and gently patted Cora on the back, the heavy weight of his palm offering silent, grounding support.

The tiny green snake slithered up until it hovered right over the worst of the swelling. It opened its jaws and nipped her lightly, right near the fracture.

Cora braced for a sharp, burning sting. Instead, she barely felt a thing. It was gentler than a routine needle prick at a doctor's office.

Then, the wild magic of the beast world kicked in. The throbbing, white-hot agony in her arm vanished. It didn't just fade; it evaporated. The effect was leagues better than modern anesthesia. Usually, novocaine or lidocaine made the whole limb feel heavy, bloated, and dead. But with the anodyne snake, the venom only blocked the pain signals. When Zarek’s thumb brushed her shoulder, she could still feel the warmth of his skin. The pain was just gone.

Orik coaxed the snake back into its stone jar and sealed the lid tight. He turned back to the table, picking up a long, wicked-looking bone knife. He gave Cora a kind, reassuring smile. "Next, I'll need to cut through your skin and muscle, so make sure you don't move, alright?"

Cora caught sight of the razor-sharp edge gleaming in the sunlight. All the color drained from her face, leaving her ghostly pale.

She had never undergone real surgery before. The closest she ever got was dental work, and even then, she would put off the appointments for months, hyping herself up for days before finally dragging her feet into the clinic.

But this was different. Her arm was a mess. It wasn't a neat, clean snap. Tiny bone fragments floated inside her flesh. If those shards stayed in there, they would tear her muscles from the inside out, cause endless complications, and lead to a gruesome infection. The invasive surgery was absolutely necessary.

Still, looking at the primitive setup, a spike of anxiety hit her. "The bone-mending paste," Cora asked, her voice tight. "Is it safe?"

Since it was her own arm on the chopping block, she needed facts.

Orik reassured her with a gentle, patient smile. He explained how he had used the exact same paste on countless tribe members with shattered limbs. Everyone recovered perfectly, with zero side effects. It was gentle enough that even the most delicate females and young kids handled it without issue.

Hearing that, Cora nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Getting sliced open right now beat dying of sepsis next week. But her modern instincts kicked in one last time.

"Can you dip the knife in boiling water first?" she asked. "Let it cool off before you cut me. It sterilizes the blade."

Orik raised an eyebrow at the strange request, but he agreed without hesitation. He walked over to a small hearth burning in the corner of the cave, plunged the bone knife into a bubbling pot of water, and waited.

Minutes later, the sterilized blade was cooled and ready. Orik walked back over, the weapon gripped tight in his fist, ready to start the procedure.

Cora sat frozen on the edge of the stone table. Her body grew stiffer by the second. Her uninjured left hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist against her thigh. Inside her muddy shoes, her toes scrunched up tight.

She couldn't stop the rising tide of sheer panic. This was actual, invasive surgery. The old healer was about to slice her open, peel back her skin, and expose her bare bones to the open air. Just sitting in a sterile dentist's chair used to turn her into a nervous wreck. This was a nightmare.

The more terrified she felt, the harder it became to look away. Her wide, unblinking eyes stayed glued to Orik. As the old man stepped into her personal space, her panic-addled brain started playing tricks on her. Orik morphed into a grim butcher, looming over her, ready to carve her up like a slab of meat on a block. Cora dragged in deep, ragged breaths, over and over, fighting a losing battle to steady her racing heart.

Zarek stood inches away, watching her unravel. Seeing her act like such a nervous wreck, yet still trying her absolute hardest to stay still and act brave, struck him deep in the chest. He couldn't help feeling his heart melt at the sight of her forced stoicism.

Just as Cora felt she might actually scream, a rush of warm air brushed her side. Zarek stepped up right behind her. He settled in close, his massive, heat-radiating chest pressing against her trembling back. He pulled her flush against him, providing a solid wall of muscle for her to lean on. Then, he reached around and gently, securely covered both of her eyes with his large, warm hand, plunging her into darkness.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Relax," he whispered, his deep, rumbly voice vibrating through her. "If you don't look, you won't be scared."