5. Kathleen

The sun has already set by the time I get home, and I"ve begun to fret about my grandmother. The last thing I want is for her to have been worrying about me.

As it is, that is probably unavoidable at this point. It's late, my clothes are incredibly dirty. One look at me, and she's going to fret.

I let myself into the home we share, expecting to find grandmother waiting, but a quick glance shows me she"s nowhere to be found. My heart quickens in pace as I try to swallow the swells of panic rising into my throat.

"Gran?"

Where could she be?

My palms feel clammy, and my mouth is dry. I quickly wonder if she might have gone to look for me, but that"s unlikely as she has problems walking.

"Grandmother?" I call out timidly again. Fear threatens to claw its way from my chest.

Another look around the room has my heart sinking, a swooping panic dips to the bottom of my stomach, I see feet sticking out around the corner to the hall.

"Grandmother!" I shriek, fear threatening to consume me as I run to where she rests on the floor, motionless.

I grab her hand, but she is cool to the touch. She"s still breathing, but her breaths are shallow. There is a large wound on her head, and blood is pooling onto the floor around her in a sickening puddle. Quickly, I run out of the house.

"Help!"

The wind is sharp and bitter, stinging my eyes as I sprint barefoot in the dirt. My grandmother"s blood has dried on my hands. It feels like a heavy weight that I can"t shake. I had no idea what to expect when I found her, but this is beyond anything I could have imagined.

I rush into Mathilde"s home, praying she"s there. The door creaks open slowly, and I am met with familiar scents of lavender and baking bread. Mathilde stands there, her brow furrowed with concern. "Kathleen, what's happened?"

Her kind eyes take in my dirtied and disheveled state. Her eyes widen at the sight of the blood on my hands.

"Kathleen?" she asks, fear rising in her voice as she dries her hands on her apron.

I gasp for air, my chest heaving from the exertion of running. "Grandmother... she"s hurt." The words tumble out in a frantic rush. "I found her unconscious when I got home. She has a big wound on her head, and she isn"t waking up."

"Let me grab my bag," she says, hurriedly disappearing down the hallway.

When she returns, Mathilde grabs my arm gently but firmly, and follows me outside back to my house. Mathilde is friends with my grandmother, her only friend, actually. She has a bit of medical knowledge and knows first aid. I"m hoping her knowledge is enough to help my grandmother.

Mathilde follows me back to my grandmother"s house, her healer"s bag clasped tightly in her hands. As we rush inside, I lead her to where my grandmother still lies unconscious on the floor.

Mathilde"s breath hitches when she sees the severity of the wound on grandmother"s head, but she steels herself and gets to work examining her.

"This looks bad," Mathilde says grimly. "She"s lost a lot of blood. I"ll need to stitch up the gash, but even then, there may be damage beneath the surface that my basic skills can"t fix."

She rummages through her bag, pulling out needles, thread, and various vials of liquid. As she begins cleaning and closing the wound, I pace anxiously.

"Is there anything you can give her for the pain and swelling?" I ask. I have a frenetic need to help and can"t stop pacing and wringing my hands.

Mathilde shakes her head. "My usual remedies won"t be enough for a wound like this. She needs dark elf medicine, something like a healing potion,"

I look at my grandma, the panic tightens in my chest. Her skin is pale, and she"s been cleaned of the blood, but she"s still asleep. From what Mathilde is saying, without dark elf magic, she's likely to stay that way.

How am I supposed to find dark elf potions? And what do I do to feed her. My stomach clenches at the sight of her. She looks so close to death. My mind wanders to the elf in the forest.

"What do I do?" I ask Mathilde, the feeling of defeat threatens to spill from my eyes.

Mathilde"s expression is grave as she meets my eyes. "I"m afraid there"s little we can do without elvish medicine. Your grandmother has lost too much blood." She sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping.

My heart drops into my stomach like a stone. I look at my grandmother"s still form, her skin ashen, the ugly gash on her head now neatly stitched but still angry and red. She looks small and frail there on the floor, a far cry from the lively woman who raised me.

"But we have to do something!" I cry, hot tears spilling down my cheeks.

Mathilde sighs again. "Without the proper medicine, even the most skilled human doctor would be of little use. Her injuries are too severe." She gestures helplessly to my grandmother. "I"m afraid she may only have a few days left at most."

I shake my head vehemently. "No. No, I can"t just let her die!" I run my hands through my hair, mind racing. There has to be something, some way, to save her.

Without thinking, I rush out the door and sprint out of the house. I arrive breathless at the chief"s home hoping he will have a solution. I pound desperately on the carved wooden door.

"Please, I need help! It"s an emergency!" I call, but none comes. My plight seems hopeless as I slump to the ground.

My fear for my grandma and fear of being ignored mix together in a desperation I"ve never before experienced.

After what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and the chief"s wife regards me sternly. "What is the meaning of this disruption?" she demands.

She holds a whip in her hand, and I cringe at her harsh look. My voice is ragged as I plead my case, tears streaming down my face. My heart races as I try to catch my breath. "Please, I need your help."

The woman raises a brow and steps closer, examining me closely before crossing her arms over her chest.

I fall to my knees before her, words spilling out in a torrent. "Please, my grandmother is hurt. She"s unconscious and bleeding."

The chief"s wife looks down upon with disgust, her nose scrunches, and her mouth sets in a disapproving grimace. She idly swings the whip, making me flinch at every flick that zips across my vision.

"Our healer says only elvish medicine can save her now. I beg you, does the chief have access to such medicine? I will do anything to obtain it, anything at all." I try again, begging this woman to find it within herself to offer me some kind of assistance.

The chief"s wife looks at me with an intimidating kind of hatred, threateningly toying with the whip in her hand.

"Please," I sob.

She regards me coldly. "Groveling will get you nowhere, girl," she sneers. "The chief does not waste elvish medicine on peasants."

I look up at her, desperation in my eyes. "Please, I"m begging you. My grandmother raised me, she"s the only family I have left."

The woman scoffs. "What do I care about your sniveling grandmother? Begone from here before I take this whip to you!"

Tears stream down my face as I cower. The chief"s wife glares at me, whip poised to strike.

"Please," I cry again, desperation floods my voice.

"I warned you," she snarls.

The whip comes down slashing through my hands. The pain stings as my skin is cracked open with a second lashing. She cracks the whip through the air again.

It feels like fire lashing against my already battered skin. With each crack comes another wave of agony - this time burning pain on top of everything else.

The chief suddenly appears in the doorway, likely drawn outside from my sobs.

"That"s enough," the chief says firmly, stepping between me and his wife. She scowls but lowers the whip.

The chief regards me with exasperation. "We cannot help you, child. The elves do not share their medicines, not even with us."

I stare up at him, stunned. "But you"re the chief! Can"t you ask them, plead with them to make an exception?"

He shakes his head. "The elves care little for our human troubles. Even if I begged, they would not bend."

"There must be something!" I cry desperately. "My grandmother is dying! She's…she's hit her head somehow, she's bleeding…"

The chief looks down at me cowering beneath him. Pity and disgust cloak his features.

"We have no healers here who can treat such grave injuries, neither elf nor human. Especially not for someone so old. You'll need to accept that this is her time."

I sink to the ground and weep. My only hope dashed. My beloved grandmother"s fate seems sealed.

"Now go home, don"t come back here again," the chief says with dismissive authority.

He drags his scowling wife back into the house, her protests and insults falling on deaf ears. The door closes on me and any hope I possess for saving my grandma.

The chief"s cold dismissal cuts through me like a knife, but I cannot give up hope. There must be something I can still do to save my grandmother"s life.

I drag myself up from the ground, tears still streaming down my face, and stumble away from the chief"s home.