chapter 3 the poison's grasp

Wren's hands moved with precision as she rummaged through her worn leather bag. She had spent countless hours studying the ancient tomes on medicine, herbs, and poisons that her mentor had left behind. The sweet, earthy scent wafting from the stranger's lips was unmistakable - it was the signature of the deadly poison, lythorin.

She had heard of lythorin, a poison so subtle and insidious that it could kill in as little as six to ten hours, depending on the constitution of the person who had taken it. Wren's gut told her that the stranger had been under its influence for hours already.

With a deep breath, Wren mixed a concoction of herbs and powders, her hands moving with a speed and accuracy that belied her relatively short time as a healer. As she worked, she talked to the stranger, trying to keep him calm and focused.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, her voice firm but gentle. "I need you to stay still. Can you do that for me?"

Edwards eyes flickered, his gaze drifting towards Wren's face. He tried to nod, but his head lolled to one side. Wren took it as a yes.

She carefully poured the liquid into his mouth, trying to get him to swallow. The stranger's throat constricted, and he gagged, but Wren held him steady, her hands firm but gentle.

As she worked, Wren could feel the stranger's life force ebbing away. She knew that she had to act fast - every minute counted. She poured all her energy into saving him, her focus laser-sharp.

Edwards mind was a jumble of pain and confusion. He was aware of the woman's presence, of her calm and competent hands, but everything seemed distant and unreal. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of agony, unable to escape.

As the woman worked, Edwards thoughts grew more disjointed. He remembered walking through the forest, feeling the weight of his responsibilities bearing down on him. He remembered the poison, the sweet, earthy taste of it. And he remembered his decision - to end it all, to escape the suffocating burden that had been his life.

But now, as he lay here, he felt a spark of anger ignite within him. Who was this woman, and why was she interfering? Didn't she know that he wanted to die?

His eyes flickered open, and he gazed up at the woman. For a moment, their eyes locked, and Wren felt a jolt of electricity run through her veins. There was something in the stranger's eyes - a deep anguish, a sense of suffering that went beyond physical pain.

Wren's heart went out to him, and she felt a surge of determination. She was going to save him, no matter what.

As the minutes ticked by, Wren worked tirelessly to counteract the poison. She mixed and administered another dose of the antidote, her hands moving with precision. The stranger's body began to respond, his breathing slowing, his heart rate steadying.

But Wren knew that the battle was far from over. The poison had already done significant damage, and the stranger's body would need time to recover. She settled in for the long haul, her eyes fixed on the stranger's face as she waited for him to awaken.

As the hours passed, the stranger's eyes flickered open, his gaze drifting towards Wren's face. He looked at her with a mixture of confusion and anger, his eyes narrowing as he tried to remember who she was and how he had gotten there.

Wren smiled softly, her eyes filled with compassion. "You're safe now," she said, her voice gentle. "You're going to be okay."

The stranger's gaze lingered on Wren's face, his eyes searching for answers. But as he looked at her, he felt a spark of something else - a spark of hope, perhaps, or a spark of curiosity. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him want to stay alive, at least for a little while longer.