Freya dabbed at the large cut on his cheek with a wet cloth. The shivering hadn’t stopped, but his wounds were definitely healing fast. Not abnormally fast, or supernaturally fast, they were healing fast because they hadn’t been infected.
He could walk now though with a limp, and the wounds did not bleed anymore whenever she cleaned them. It had been a month now since the incident and though he wasn’t fully healed, he got better by the days.
She had been taking care of him since then. She made their meals, picked vegetables from the field, tended to his wounds, and read him stories. Every morning as she rose from the chair where she had been sleeping on since the incident, she stood before his badly mutilated body and fought to keep the tears away.
He had saved her from the ominous claws of death. He had saved her from the monster after she had ventured out of the house to play in the field despite his warnings. If she hadn’t been on that field, probably the handsome Prince wouldn’t have seen her and invited her for a dance in his city. She didn’t know which city he was from, but she had been so taken in by his looks and she had followed the Prince blindly after scrawling a short note for the dwarf as her mind had pestered her to do.
That man almost died for her, for her mistake. He singlehandedly fought a seven feet monster and took all the hurt for her. How then could she repay him. She owed him her life.
She wouldn’t leave his side again. Never!