Chapter 49. Foolish Adventurer.

  Sid walked the same way he came. He was about to start down a new set of churning stairs. The faint groans of discomfort and worry led him down a different hallway instead—the medical wing.

  Looking into a doorway he seen Scarlett lifting an intimidating piece of iron. It had a single hand grip. Rows layering rows of jagged teeth. Teeth that lined only one side—the bottom side from the way she held it. Those tiny teeth were stained too, having no reflective shine. Scarlett overlooked the medical tool and kicked her bag open.

  Curious, him Fenrir and Skeeter watched quietly from the door.

  “Hold him down or put him to sleep.” Scarlet demanded the four men around the table. There was one man half strapped down. He was fighting with two of the four men.

  “Hold still Zeke she going to fix you up!” One shouted, trying to restrain the man. The one on the table—Zeke—he punched his friends.

  “Hurry up lady! Just do it already!” Another yelled.

  Zeke was now gripping another by his collar. Both looking at the nasty bug-like infection—or whatever the hell that was—it slowly crawled closer to his knee. Leaving a sloppy path of dead flesh. Chomping and chowing down on those toes until the bone start to peak through. Zeke panicked. Even yelped with agony, he wanted to wipe his leg clean, but another man stopped him.

  “It'll spread faster that way! Remember Talis?” He shouted. Fighting with Zeke not to touch.

  “Okay, but he's not going to enjoy watching me do this." Scarlett raised her mean looking iron, and placed it fingers above his kneecap.

  The pointy teeth pressed multiple dimples into his flesh, before taking a moist bite. Like bursting into a fresh ripe cherry tomato. Zeke’s leg squirted. He wailed and kicked Scarlett. One good solid boot-whap-right there on her forehead. Screaming at the woman who fell back. “Are you fucking mad!”

  He continued to fight with the three. One who only watched from the corner—no it wasn’t Scarlett she was picking herself up from the floor. That man in the corner was the driver from the wagon.

  “Get ahold of him!” She yelled rather calmly, rubbing her forehead. Nibble finger circle the outline, knowing a lovely bump would soon come to shape.

  One of the men who was supposed to be holding Zeke's legs, walked around the table.

  “Monte, don't let her take my leg. Maybe we can just wash it... what are you doing?” Zeke pleaded to the man named Monte—Monte shadowed the boy named Zeke. “Monte don’t stop—”

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  Sid could see exactly what happened but he knew. He heard the loud crack of a punch connecting. That man Monte punched Zeke out cold.

  Scarlett grabbed that beefy thigh once more. Letting that mean toothy tool eat until it scrapped the table—and a few more just to be sure. She severed that leg neatly. Her nimble finger were steady and agile. Snipping and tucking stitching and tucking some more. She folded and stitched until a grotesque stumped leg was patched. Cleaned. Dressed.

  “Zeke will have to stay here tonight, Monte.” She said. Observing the bandages—sometimes, just sometimes, she wishes she wasn’t so damn good with a thread and needle. It was a curse anymore.

  “It was Xulu, Scarlett. We found his hideout. I'm going to put together a team—"

  “A team like this one Monte? Or will it be like the last one? Oh and what about the group before that, those were some real sweet kids huh, what was one of their names again?” Scarlett had a viciousness while she spit her venom. “How many more of you, Monte? How many more men do I need to chop up or put back together? How many more men do I need to put down like a sick dog? All you adventurers are the same. Selfish pricks. Just claiming to be selfless righteous warriors. How many men have you helped aid to their own demise Monte? Oh, how righteous you have been Monte. Tell me, do you feel accomplished?” Scarlet asked, washing her hands in a bucket, patting them dry against Monte’s vest.

  “It’s not like that Scarlet, we're trying.”

  “Save it Monte. I've heard your speech about the greater good of your pursuits, and how the men's lives may be lost, but not forgotten and how everything you do is in their names. Nothing will be for naught with you and your groups. Its shit Monte.” Aged eyes filled with shame stared Monte down. Forcing him to blink at his boots. She then looked at Zeke sleeping soundly on the table. Two are still at their friends side. One lurking in the corner. “Either end it quick or come up with a new speech Monte. Now, get of my way, I’m tired.” Scarlett grabbed her scissors and spool of thread tucking them in her sewing bag, leaving Monte with his group.

  Seeing Sid while she stepped out, she sighed shaking her head.

  “Foolish boys. Monte. My step sisters cousins nephew. Boy has a good heart, and his head is in the right places, but he's stupid. Young man has killed more innocent lives with his ambitions, then he's done any good for anyone, having me stain my hands and tools assisting him—"

  Sid listened to the woman, having nothing to say as he didn't care for adventurers, and it was an awkward conversation. So feeling it was best to just let the woman vent he listened to her rant about them.

  “—and that boy there, Zeke. He will surly die before tomorrow morning. I can't stop these infesting insect infections. This is dark magic. Caused by blood rituals. I can slow it only enough to let him have a good night. Giving him only time to feel comfortable while he say his goodbyes."

  “You have magic, I seen you do something with your hands.”

  Scarlett smiled and looked and her frail fingers—unsure if her hands were stained with innocence, or if they were just blotch from poor circulation. Did it really matter anymore. “That in only a binding charm dear, keeps the threading strong. My stitches are enchanted to re-sue if torn.”

  Sid nodded understanding she could do nothing for the man—he held his composure out of respect for her moment, but, did she just say these threads are enchanted?

  “Yup, just another foolish boy out seeking fairy tales.”

  Something about those words made Sid’s chest shudder. Almost breathless. Why? He then looked at the pouch along the hilt of the sword. There was a connection—but why can he not remember the reasoning?

  “Bring Skeeter back to where you found him too.” Scarlett started to walk in a different direction. Could she return from this hallway?