The Youngman Wakes

The young man stirred in his bed, it was in many ways the first sign of life he’d shown in many weeks. There had been times when Kiena had wondered if she was wasting her time.

He had not been an easy patient the infection had spread throughout his whole body and she had often wondered if it might have been kinder to kill him quickly.  However two days ago his fever had finally broken, his breathing had grown stronger and now there was hope the young man might live.

Rushing to his bed side she picked up the mug of water she had waiting, removing the hessian cloth she’d been using to slowly drip liquids into the man she prayed eagerly that his stirring was a sign he was going to wake.

She had to wait many agonising minutes before his eye’s flicked open, “Green” she smiled… “I guessed brown”

“Ugh?”

“Your eye’s … I thought they would have been brown” she explained “But they are green, far more hansom”

The young man nodded and struggled to sit. “No don’t try” she urged, pushing him back down onto the pillow concerned the wound on his chest would re-open as it had done so many times in the past few weeks. “Your wounded” she explained “Do you remember?”

“No” he shook his head gratefully taking a mouthful of water as she bought the mug to his lips. When he’d finished he laid his head back down to the pillow and put his hand to his face stroking the bristles he found there.

“I kept it short” she explained, “I’ve never shaved a man, I didn’t want to cut you. So I just trimmed it a little”

“How long?” he whispered his voice gruff and laboured after weeks of ill use.

“A month almost” she replied.

“Where are we?”

“My home, in the forest… a canyon next to the rive running between Grimstead and Darkfire”

“What happened?”

“You were shot, the lupus … they tried to kill you. I think you came over the waterfall that’s where they live, your lucky to be alive… I found you washed up against a rock”

She watched as the young man, lifted the blanket to inspect his wound only to find himself well bandaged. “Is it bad?” he asked.

“As bad as any I’ve seen, honeslty I don’t know how you lived. God bless you”

He nodded, “Do you have a name?” he asked.

“Kiena” she smiled.

“Thank you Kiena” he nodded, “I have one more question if I might”

“Of course?”

“Do you know, know who I am?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember a damn thing” he replied, his voice showing the signs of panic “Not a single memory beyond waking here, not even my name”

“I’m sorry I can’t help” she replied, “You wearing nothing but a night shirt when I found you”

The young man nodded clearly distressed, “Will you help me to sit then?” he asked.

“Of course” she nodded,  assisting him so he say upright in the bed propped up on some pillow’s “I have made some soup if you’d like some, you must be starving”

The young man nodded and ate his soup in silence, when he was finished he put the bowl down heavily as if it held all his worry’s. “I could be anyone” he decided, “Perhaps im an evil man.. maybe I’ve done terrible things. Perhaps I deserved to be shot”

“I don’t believe that” she replied soothing.

“Yes but how do we know? You say I was in a night gown? That doesn’t sound like a hunting accident or battle of some kind. Someone clearly came looking for me… so how do we know I didn’t deserve it?”

“Does it matter?” she reasoned, “Your memories may come back to you and if they do you’ll know, but until then have a fresh start a clean slate be whoever you want to be?”

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One response to “The Youngman Wakes

  1. *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*

    That just figures. Gah! He comes to with amnesia. But where there’s life there’s hope, right?

    Right?

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