Gerald woke up with a wince. Around him he heard a soft mumble of voices and crunching footsteps. White curtains surrounded him and in his daze he realised that he was lying on a stretcher.
He started remembering the battle with the goblins and all the confusion when he had passed out. He tried to sit up but pain shot through his entire body and he couldn't move very well at all.
Leaning to his left he peered under a crack in the curtain, seeing a woman walking next to him. Not being able to see her clearly he moved to the side, grimacing with the pain, and softly lifted just an inch of the curtain.
The woman was wearing a brown shawl and a light blue dress. There was something very delicate in her walk. He gazed for a few moments and then came to his senses, looking around to try and understand where he was and who they were.
They were certainly human, that was a relief. He realised that they must be nomads. Those that he could see through the cracks in the curtains, walking or riding on horses, wore brown garments with shawls of various colours and patterns around their heads.
Plucking up his courage he raised his voice. “Who are you?” he croaked, wondering if it was loud enough for the woman to hear him.
“Oh!”
She lifted the curtain. Gerald's eyes hurt for a moment and she quickly lowered the curtain just a little to cover him from the sun.
“You're awake,” she smiled. “My name is Anna.”
She was young and very lovely. Her eyes sparkled with life, their pale blue colour creating a sharp contrast with her dark skin and matching her dress beautifully. She was wearing dark eye-liner, curved at the sides of her outer eyes, which accentuated them all the more. Make-up was something that usually only the royal or the rich wore, and it struck Gerald as a surprise to see a desert girl wearing it. Some strands of her dark hair flowed from under her shawl over the left side down to her cheek. Small blue and gold earrings glittered in the desert sunlight. Gerald gasped quietly – it took him some moments to remember his question and her answer.
“No,” he croaked, a little embarrassed about his condition. “I mean – all of you. Who are you?”
She giggled. Gerald noticed someone move in closer – a stern faced man on a horse, dressed in a white and blue cloak. His face was old, but he had the look of a warrior. He said something to her in a language Gerald did not understand, and she threw the curtain up so that he was fully exposed. His eyes hurt again but not as badly as before. She looked forward but still held her attractive smile.
The warrior looked at Gerald, his eyes also blue and piercing, set in a tough wrinkled face. His eyes weren't threatening, however, but showed a strength and virtue about him. Gerald had the feeling he would be a man who would always do what was necessary, and if he saw Gerald as a threat he would cut him down without flinching.
“You must rest, soldier,” he boomed. “We are Jikanio tribe of Colone. We killed those of the loathsome race who struck you.”
“What of the rest of...” Gerald started.
“You should not concern yourself,” interrupted the warrior. “It is true that we were not able to save all. But we saved you. We did see your people from a distance. It appeared to us that they were victorious and they fled into the grasslands.”
So they must have made it to Foré, Gerald thought. He could only hope. “I must return to them,” he cried. “I must!”
“You are wounded and have received a dangerous blow to the head.”
Gerald looked at his body – indeed, his leg still had a piece of an arrow in it and his side was bleeding badly. He turned again to look at the man.
“We have many questions to ask of you, as well,” said the warrior. “So it is not right for you; or now for us either; to let you go. You must rest. Anna here will take care of you. You need not fear her.”
Gerald looked over at her. Fear her? She was beautiful. He thought that fearing her would probably not be the problem, it may be more a case of not wanting to leave. He shook his head trying to throw such thoughts out – his neck hurt badly. He hardly knew her, she was a desert woman (if he had known they could be so beautiful!) – he had to lie his neck down, it was too sore now. Was that another smile?
Perhaps, he thought, that any fear he would have would certainly be a very different kind of fear. He leaned back in the stretcher and realised he did indeed feel tired.
“Sleep, warrior,” came her soothing voice, comforting him extraordinarily. “It is not far now.”