A Method For Recovering Faster

Nyell peered at Allen, who was busy bickering with Myrven. Only now did the young man notice the White Moon tribe's chief was paler than usual. His skin had always been fair, but not that fair. It had an unhealthy shine to it, too, and it made Nyell realize a simple truth: Allen had been pushing himself to the limits, and he did not utter a single word of complaint, even as his spiritual energy reached a dangerously low level. 

From what Nyell had gathered from their discussion, a shaman's body was accustomed to supporting a vast amount of spiritual energy. With this in mind, when said spiritual energy dropped fast, it impacted the body significantly, just as heavy blood loss would. 

That much, Nyell was aware of.

A moment ago, Dangu had cut the conversation short precisely because of this phenomenon. The daemon was sharp and caught on Allen's physical state, even as he tried to hide it. Dangu was still a spirit, and he sensed something was off with the man's spiritual energy flow thanks to his innate nature.

If Nyell was honest with himself, he didn't know what to think. He was deeply troubled by the White Moon tribe's chief's behavior up to now. His personality was so different from what he had imagined that he didn't know how to take it. Because of his frequent altercations with Allen's fellow tribe members, Nyell had painted a rather dark image of their chief in his mind. But after interacting with the man, he realized there was more to him than what the White Moon tribe's hunters' despicable behaviors hinted at. They didn't reflect their chief's personality in the less! That shaman was crazier than any one of them.

But Allen was also overly responsible and strangely considerate.

Still, it wasn't like Nyell could let go of years worth of hatred and grudge overnight. At least, that was what he kept repeating to his little conscience, trying to convince himself to stay on high alert around the shaman. What if he was wearing a mask, and everything was part of a scheme…?

"What's going through your little head now?" Allen asked when he noticed his destined mate's heated gaze on him. "You have a scary look on your face. Are you mad?"

"No, I'm not mad, and I wasn't thinking about anything important," Nyell shrugged, pushing away the intrusive thoughts at the back of his mind. "Your masochistic nature just took me aback. I mean, you look like a sadist, not a masochist."

"Didn't it occur to you that I could be both?"

The teasing tone drew a scoff out of Nyell.

"Now that you mention it…" 

"Anyway, masochist or not," Allen smiled, redirecting the conversation to the matter at hand. "I'll need a day or two to recover."

"Why do I feel like you're lying," Nyell cocked an eyebrow. "You depleted your spiritual energy to a dangerously low level, didn't you? And if it's anything like blood loss, one day or two is far from enough. I bet you're planning to recover just enough to allow us to finish the conversation, then suffer through the whole thing and pretend everything is all right. Am I wrong?"

A stifled laugh seemed to resound inside the cave, and Nyell glanced at his uncle. The daemon didn't appear to have moved an inch, still wearing an emotionless mask. It made Nyell wonder if he imagined that laugh, but he didn't have the leisure to ponder over whether or not his ears were playing tricks on him as Allen clicked his tongue.

"Since when did you develop mind-reading skills?"

"I can't read minds, but I'm starting to get yours: you're a madman who wants to get things done the fastest way possible, regardless of the dangers. You're reckless, and it's hard to tell whether you're smart or stupid. If I have to make an analogy, you act like a genius brat who thinks he's invincible and the world is his to take. " 

"I wouldn't have said it better," Myrven chuckled, and Lapis nodded by his side. They both had no claims when it came to dragging their chief down a notch or two. "Although you're on the right track, you're not entirely correct in your assessment, Nyell."

"How so?"

"Myrven…"

"You see," the man ignored his chief, "naturally recovering from an almost complete depletion of spiritual energy should take about a week for most shamans. In Allen's case, it should be around three days. But there is a way to accelerate the recovery and reduce the time needed to one day instead of three."

"What, seriously?"

"Yes," Myrven smiled, disregarding the daggers Allen threw his way for the nth time today. "You see, there's a method that allows for a speedy recovery. It wasn't something we would have envisaged before, but now..."

"Let me guess: this peculiar method requires his destined mate's help."

A gentle but amused smile was Nyell's answer, unsettling him. Seeing that kind of smile on Myrven's face sent alarm bells ringing in his head.

"Maybe I'm better off not knowing it," Nyell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a hunch it wouldn't be something he wanted to hear. Still, his curiosity was piqued, and he was particularly adamant about learning it because of Allen's desire to keep it under wraps. "But pray tell! We don't have much time to lose, and if we have a method to accelerate the process, we may as well try it."

"Right, time is scarce," Myrven nodded approvingly. "You must know that a mate, and even more so a destined mate, can affect their partner's mental and physical state. Their mere presence can either soothe them or, on the contrary, throw them into a frenzy."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that…"

A wry smile stretched Nyell's lips. He couldn't help but remember a minor incident that happened not even a full day after Allen's arrival. After defeating the manticore and returning from the jungle, a certain part of his body had become a bit too uncooperative once he lay in bed. The shaman's scent lingering on him had drawn out some of his most basic, bestial instincts. It triggered an intense heat that had set his skin ablaze, and his lower half stood up, regardless of his thoughts. His body had naturally awoken the desire to mate with Allen nearby, and the man filled his fantasy as Nyell took care of the little problem plaguing him. It had embarrassed him so much that he thought of crawling into a hole and never coming out.

"Then, were you aware that, for werewolves, our mate's presence also affects our natural healing abilities? Our tribe noticed the phenomenon a few decades back and came up with the theory that the peculiar scent of our mates stimulates our latent abilities because of our affinity. It could also be due to one of our first instincts, which is to protect our mate. And to protect them, you need to be back on your feet. According to our research, regular mates accelerate their partners' healing ability by almost ten percent compared to werewolves who have no mates or are recuperating without their mates. We don't have much data for destined mates, but we noticed an increase in recovery speed of about fifty to seventy percent with the few cases we managed to study."

"Study? You research that kind of stuff…?"

"We're a tribe mostly composed of shamans, and research is an integral part of our daily life," Myrven chuckled, amused by Nyell's disgusted grimace. That guy obviously wasn't an intellectual. "Sadly, we have even less data for shamans who sustained an injury or depleted their spiritual energy and recuperated with the help of their destined mates, but we managed to conclude that destined mates also stimulate the flow of spiritual energy, increasing their efficacity."

"That seems very convenient," Nyell squinted his eyes. "So, what's the catch?"

"Well, if you want to help my sulking chief recuperate faster, you'll first need to scent him. Then, stay in close proximity to stimulate his primary instinct."

"…"

"Do you get what he means by close proximity?" Allen shook his head, also amused by Nyell's disgruntled face. "It's skin-to-skin proximity, and you need to stay by my side until I'm almost fully recovered because if you suddenly leave, it could have a reverse effect on my recovery. The body is forcefully stimulated, and it's pushing itself in response. If the stimulation stops abruptly, the spiritual energy will stall, and my body will go into shock, making recovery much harder. This kind of method is double-edged."

"It's like cheating, huh…"

"Exactly!" Allen nodded, bending over until their noses were about an inch apart. "So? Do you still want to try out that method?"

"No need to be a genius to know what's best between hugging you for a day or waiting three days for you to recover naturally. Anyway, night is almost upon us, so I may as well share your bed tonight. Kill two birds with one stone, as they say."

The last bit was said in a sarcastic manner as Nyell remembered how he had vehemently refused to share his bed with the man when they entered Tuppel's dream. It had only been a bit over two weeks since then. It was bewildering how quickly things could change in a short amount of time. But right now, Nyell didn't even have the energy to complain about it. He was physically exhausted from the hike, which had taken almost a day, and mentally exhausted from his small discussion with his uncle. 

Nyell wouldn't admit it aloud, but tonight, he needed someone to hug, for knowing he had participated in his mother's death weighed deeply on his mind. Maybe Allen's warmth could help bury the feeling of guilt twisting his stomach, even if only by a small amount. Ultimately, Nyell's mental fortitude wasn't impenetrable, and he wanted to distract his mind however he could. His destined mate's proximity should do the trick.