Marcus Heartwood's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Marcus dropped his lantern and ran toward the shape crumpled at the edge of his field. The stranger was soaked through, breathing in shallow gasps, fingers blue from the storm. Marcus hooked the man's arm over his shoulder and dragged him through the mud toward the small thatched cottage he'd been fixing up for himself. He kicked the door open, lowered the man by the wood fire, and started stripping the wet cloth from his shoulders. This was the first time anyone had ever taken shelter under a roof Marcus owned. It wasn't the haven he was fighting to build in Witchhazel. But tonight, it would have to be. The knock came as he was ladling broth from the kettle. A woman stood in the doorway, rain dripping from a healer's satchel slung at her hip. She looked past Marcus to the stranger by the fire, then back to Marcus's exhausted face. "I heard there was a man trying to start a refuge," she said. "I came to see if it was true." Marcus stepped aside and let her in.