Mike the White's Arc

Chapter 4 of 10

By the time Mike walked back from the forest, his side had soaked through the leather. The boar tusks hung at his belt. Each step pulled at the torn wound. Zara had gone ahead to ready horses for the ride north. Mike did not make it that far. His vision swam. He turned toward the only lit door he trusted and pushed inside a large, busy tavern on the good side of town. Heat and noise hit him. A white-furred wolf woman looked up from behind the bar. This was Nia, who ran the place and had gathered a small pack of women under her roof. Her yellow eyes moved over him once and read everything. "You're bleeding on my floor," she said. She did not sound angry. She sounded like someone counting a cost. "Back room. Now." Three women rose from a corner table. Mike knew them well. Dara, in her red tunic, took his weight under one arm. Luna took the other. Sela ran ahead and swept mugs off a table to clear it. They laid him down. His head fell back against the wood. Nia cut the leather away from his side. The old wound had split wide. Blood ran dark and thick, and the edges had begun to swell. "This festers by morning," she said. "Then you don't ride anywhere. You don't stand at any court." "Fire iron," Luna said. Two words. She was already heating a blade in the hearth. Sela pressed clean cloth to the wound to slow the flow. Dara held Mike's shoulders down. "This will hurt worse than the boar," Dara said. She did not look sorry. Mike gripped the table edge. "Do it." Luna brought the glowing iron. She pressed it to the split flesh. Mike's whole body locked. Skin hissed and smoked. He bit down on a leather strap Sela shoved between his teeth. It lasted three breaths. Then Luna pulled the iron away. The bleeding stopped. Nia leaned close, sniffed the seared edge, and gave a short nod. "Clean burn. It'll hold." She packed the wound with a poultice and bound it tight. Mike lay still, gray-faced and soaked with sweat. But the flow had ceased. The rot would not take him now. He looked at the four women around the table. "Two days lying here," Nia said. "No riding north. No boar hunts. You rest, or the burn splits and you die." Mike counted in his head. Two days lost. The queen's court came soon. Zara waited with horses she would not hold forever. He had bought his life back, but he had spent his time to do it. "Then I rest," he said. "But send word to Zara. Tell her I ride the moment I stand." Nia studied him, then the tusks at his belt. "An alpha who keeps his word," she said. "We'll see."