MCHC: New Beginnings
MCHC: New Beginnings Faint scritching of a quill against the parchment-like pages of my journal. The flames of the fireplace burn low, a gentle crackle as the smell of charred kindling fills the room. The gash rests on my arm; dried. Besides a quiet ache and the fear it might tear back open; it's healed, for the most part. It's been a few days now. The pot is near empty, save for a few smears that cling to the sides. Only half an armful remains of the wood I gathered for kindling a few fires ago. The infusion, the one that keeps them at bay, I'm down to the dregs. Barely enough to circle the base. I should rest. Bottle up whatever's left of the remedy. Be as healed up as possible for tomorrow. If surviving's a concern, I'll have to move at first light. Daytime I stepped forward— boots sinking, sun beating down. My back aches; sweat runs in rivulets. Every breath feels a little heavier, but I'm equipped ...
