Chapter 9: Shallow Breathing

The farmer was all but forgotten, Marion’s arms wrapped tightly around Eris’ unconscious form. They shook him, not by intention, but rather because they themself were shaking.

“Jacket–” The elf looked up to the fey, still walking on her hindlegs. “Do something. Please? Anything–”

“Hush,” the fey spoke aloud, her voice a soothingly melancholic chime. It was gentler than her anger, but commanding. She hardly ever spoke aloud. The elf sniffled still, staring up at Jacket, pleading silently for her to work quickly. The great, lumbering fey stooped low, crouching beside Marion as they clung to the prince. She gently pried Eris from the elf’s grasp to lay him out, claws shredding fabric and bandage to get to the arrow wounds.