Chapter 5
Balancing a warm bowl of liquid in one hand and a golden chalice of clean drinking water in the other, Carwyn traversed the dragon’s lair.
Very little was familiar – she hadn’t assessed the environment yet – so she attempted to retrace her earlier steps.
She took note of the room filled with clothing and the one containing softer items, like blankets and cushions, to return to them later.
The dragon hadn’t been seen since he left her.
However, upon entering her destination, she could tell he’d been inside it recently. The position of his sister had shifted; her head was turned slightly, and the furs had been changed to darker ones.
He came in here and cleaned her. Tended to her. He cares an awful lot about her.
The question she had, though... was why she didn’t hear nor see him pass the entryway to the cooking area. How did he manage to sneak past her so quietly?
He hadn’t returned to pester or needle her, but instead let her be. She’d expected him to come watch her to ensure she didn’t do anything that annoyed him.
What does it matter? I’d rather he leave me alone.
Carwyn placed her offerings on a shelf carved into the wall, like many others within this room. Some were decorated with bones, others with herbs and ointments that were actually useful. Some items were even rather rare, and she would love to get her greedy hands on them.
A purple moonflower? They only grew on the tops of specific mountains in the southern barbaric lands! Her sisters, and even her mother, would be green with envy if she brought home just a single petal. I wonder if he’d notice if I stole a seed.
Tearing her gaze away from the rare flower, she reached into her carry bag and donned her gloves. Then she approached the woman.
The gloves stopped her from being able to feel her temperature correctly, but her hands and feet did appear colder than they should be.
Carwyn placed two fingers against her pulse to check it, noting that it was too light and fast. Just to make sure, she lowered her ear to the spot between the dragoness’ breasts, and her full lips thinned.
Her heart is weak. She glanced at her offerings. She’s dying.
Carwyn pulled her head away with a determined purse of her lips. “Well, not on my watch you won’t.”
Not just because her life depended on it, but because the woman was young, perhaps in her early two hundreds – giving her the appearance of a young twenty-year-old. She should still have five or six hundred years of natural life left.
Such a meaningless death would be saddening.
“I apologise in advance for what I’m about to do to you,” she said as she lifted the edge of the furs.
She tickled the woman’s side in multiple places until she gained a response. The skin on her closest arm prickled with goosebumps, and Carwyn smiled in relief.
“Your pilomotor reflex still works.” Just to make sure, she covered her body again and moved down to her feet. She tickled the underside of one foot, and it twitched. “Let’s see if you still have a patellar reflex.”
She dragged the woman’s leg off the altar until it hung down, removed her blade from its sheath, and tapped just below her kneecap with the pommel. Her leg kicked forward, and Carwyn nodded before hefting it back in position.
“Admittedly, I don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, but I should mention at some point to move you onto your side.” Carwyn cringed at her face. “Once more, my apology still stands.”
She pried the woman’s mouth apart and shoved her gloved fingers in until she touched her uvula... then she proceeded to play with it. Other than mildly gagging, the dragoness gave no other reaction.
Everything she’d done, although invasive, had a purpose.
“Your body still responds – it’s just your mind that’s asleep,” she said, unsure if the woman could hear her or not. “It means your choking reflex is still working.”
Carwyn had already assumed all this, but she wanted to make sure before she did something potentially dangerous.
Offering water or food to an unconscious person really depended on the level of their unconsciousness.
Someone with brain damage and a loss of reflexes was at high risk of choking or having liquid go into their lungs, potentially causing infection or pneumonia.
However, the body naturally had protective reflexes that prevented such things if the brain was fully functioning. And since this spell had nothing to do with the brain, only magically rendering one’s mind asleep – but not the body – it should be safe-ish.
She’d still have to be careful, but she was relieved she could move forward confidently. I didn’t have a plan for if her body wasn’t reacting.
Carwyn retrieved the chalice, cupped the back of the woman’s head to lift it, and pressed it to her parted lips.
As gently as she could, she poured in a large sip’s worth of liquid to see if she’d naturally swallow.
Her body took over, and she took it in, so Carwyn poured in a little more, going bit by bit until half the silver cup was emptied.
Okay, let’s see if she can handle something thicker.
After placing the cup down, she picked up the bowl of soup she’d prepared, containing thoroughly softened sweet potato, carrot, spinach, broccoli, and watercress that had all been ground or mashed.
Carwyn had also boiled some harder-to-eat vegetables alongside bones and pieces of questionable meat to extract the vitamins and minerals and make a nutritious broth.
She had done her best to water the mash down with the broth to a drinkable level.
Shifting her stance at the end of the altar where the dragoness’ head lay, she held the bowl with one hand to steady it and cupped the back of her head again to bring it into a better position.
She brought the soup to the woman’s lips and gave her a small amount of liquid.
When she swallowed, Carwyn smiled in relief that it went down.
There we go. Pouring in more, she watched to make sure she didn’t choke on it. That will make you feel better. It’d strengthen her heart and body, which would give Carwyn more time to figure out a solution to her current slumber.
“What are you doing?!” the dragon shouted, rushing into the alcove before Carwyn could truly register him there.
In the time it took her to gasp in surprise, he’d already shoved her out of the way.
She crashed into the wall behind her and cried out when her wrist bent so far back that pain lanced up her entire forearm.
The soup splattered across her legs as she crumbled to the ground, and the bowl clanked against the stone floor, skidding away.
“What were you giving her?” he asked in a rushed, panicked tone, climbing on top of the altar to assess his sister. His form was small, only a little bigger than her, but he was exceptionally careful about the placement of his paws and tail.
Her voice cracked with a sob. “You asked me to help! I was feeding her!”
Cradling her injured hand as she huddled on the ground, she clenched her watering eyes shut and rocked, trying anything to make the pain soften.
Her fingers were stuck in a rigid position, as moving them at all lanced agony through her wrist and arm, and her toes curled in repulsion as she shuddered.
“She won’t eat! I’ve already tried.” He pressed the side of his spiky head against his sister’s chest to listen to her lungs.
“Maybe not soft foods, but soup is a liquid!”
“I didn’t say you could come in and do this.” He growled darkly before quickly gesturing to the exit. “I expected to find you eating so I could show you the spellbooks I’ve been preparing for you. You’re not to be in here alone with her.”
“Then you should have told me that,” she gritted out, groaning as she rose with the use of one hand. Just having to hold the weight of her own wrist in the air unsupported radiated agony through her.
“I thought it would have been presumed, as I have not hidden my mistrust of you!” He backed off the altar with a snorting huff through his nose. “You are lucky she still lives.”
“I cannot presume anything,” Carwyn argued, cradling her wrist once more. “I did what you asked of me. You lacked the forethought to explain what I can or cannot do. That’s not my fault, but yours.”
“Don’t give her concoctions or cast spells without my knowledge. Don’t enter this room without my presence.”
“Then don’t fuck off down into your lair without a word!”
He reared his head back, blinking rapidly with a puzzled frown. “Did you just swear at me, little witch?”
“I have been here all of an hour! I don’t know your home.
I don’t know what you want me to do if you don’t inform me.
” Her tears spilled over as her emotions overwhelmed her, heating her skin until she was sure it was flushed.
“You have taken me away from my journey, my freedom, and demanded that I heal your sister. All without my consent. And rather than throwing a tantrum or prolonging it in retaliation, without instruction, I have already tried to be accommodating.”
“Yes, well–”
“I cannot read your mind!” Carwyn yelled, cutting him off. “If you don’t want me to do things, you must instruct me. You don’t have to be kind to me if you don’t want to, but you cannot punish me for your own lack of care.”
“I’m not punishing you,” he said so damn confidently, she wanted to go right over and smack him in the nose. Stamp on his paws. Pull his tail.
Anything that would make her feel better.
“You feed your sister then, as I doubt I’ll be able to until my wrist heals!” Carwyn was afraid to pull the glove off. The pressure it’d put on her poor joint would hurt like nothing else. “There is more soup, and I could see she was drinking it.”
The irksome male dragon had the audacity to roll his eyes. “You’re exaggerating. I merely pushed you out of the way.”
“I wouldn’t be in tears if I was exaggerating! I wouldn’t be holding my limp wrist if I was lying!”