Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 58: Through The Shadow Of Death 2

Chapter 58: Through The Shadow Of Death 2

Alaric fought the dizziness, his grip on Lara tightening as he drew from every last ounce of his strength. Her sweet scent, the warmth of her presence, steadied him.

Behind them, the battle raged, growls and yelps echoing in the night. Through his haze, he heard her call the wolf by name.

Gray! Obedient like a loyal hound. Was it her pet?

The bridge creaked beneath their weight, the tension unbearable.

Lara gritted her teeth, sweat dripping down her temple as she pressed on, forcing Alaric to keep pace. Her muscles burned from the strain of supporting him, and she realized just how tall he was.

’Damn, he is tall and heavy.’ She muttered.

Even hunched over, leaning into her, his chin nearly rested against her head.

Finally, their feet met solid ground—the other side of the bridge.

Lara let go, panting heavily.

With swift efficiency, she yanked the bridge’s rope, lowering it on their side so the wolves could not follow.

Alaric barely stood, half-conscious, delirious from blood loss. His breath was ragged, his steps unsteady. Instinct alone had kept him moving.

She guided him through the final stretch, half-dragging his near-lifeless body to the house beneath the great tree.

When she laid him on the bed, she finally saw him in the light of the two oil lamps flickering beside the bed.

And she gasped!

Even with the dim light from the hand-crafted clay that held the oil land, Lara could tell the extent of his injury. There were several scratches on his arms. The gaping wound in his stomach was invisible under the bandage, but seeing that the cloth was dyed crimson, Lara knew how grave the injury was.

She hurried to the kitchen, grateful that she had previously boiled water. She took a basin and filled it with water. She passed by the shelf nestled against the outer wall of her room and took another oil lamp and a wooden rectangular box.

The moment she entered the room, Lara felt the gloom as the man lay still on the bed. Her heart skipped a bit.

She stepped forward and felt his pulse. Lara heaved a sigh of relief. He just lost consciousness.

She took the scissors from the box and swiftly cut the man’s upper clothing to expose the abdomen area where the gaping hole was. When she bandaged him earlier, she knew that she needed to suture such a big wound.

As she pushed aside his clothing, something solid pressed against her palm. Frowning, she pulled a small canister from his pocket. She uncapped it, inhaling the faint herbal scent. Medicine. Expensive medicine.

The wooden box was a medicine kit. It contained ethyl alcohol, which she successfully processed from corn after several attempts. There were also sewing needles and silk threads, which Lara kept to suture the wounds of animals they rescued in the jungle.

Thunder. He was Lara’s first patient. He was just a cub and on the brink of death with a big wound on his back when Lara found him two years ago.

Lara looked at the needle and the silk thread in her hand and then at the soldier on the bed. She had customized the needle and bent it to resemble the suturing needle of her era.

It was something that she should thanked her father for. He trained her well, sending her to learn the basics of medicine and minor surgery. That knowledge had saved lives before—now, it would save his.

She soaked the needle and the thread in ethyl alcohol while she removed the bandage.

An intake of air, then Lara breathed out. It was far worse than she imagined.

Her nimble hands started cleaning the wounds and disinfecting them with ethyl alcohol.

That must have stung a lot. Even in unconsciousness, she heard the man groan.

She moved the oil lamp closer so she had enough light, then started suturing. She had a lot of practice in the last two years, so she was adept at the job.

Lara was focused on the suturing. She didn’t notice the moment his eyes flickered open. Perhaps it was because the pain was unbearable that he awakened from his unconsciousness.

Alaric remained still, his body rigid beneath her touch. The pain was unbearable, white-hot fire spreading through his abdomen. But something else distracted him—the woman before him, utterly focused on her work.

The soft glow of the oil lamp framed her face in gold, highlighting high cheekbones and determined lips. Her long hair, loosely tied back, slipped over her shoulder as she worked. She was beautiful in a way that was both fierce and untamed.

He gripped the linen that covered the hard bed. The pain almost took his breath away.

For a moment, the agony faded.

But she brought the curved needle to his flesh, her fingers deft and precise. The needle pierced through, the thread weaving his torn skin back together.

A sharp inhale. A tensed jaw.

Damn! It hurt so much.

It was good that the wolves mauled the bandit who played dirty and wounded him. He suffered a horrible death. If not, he will surely chase him to hell.

He lapsed back into unconsciousness.

By the time Lara finished her suture, an hour had passed, and the blanket was drenched in blood. She inspected her work and found it satisfying.

After cleaning the area surrounding the wound with ethyl alcohol, she applied a liberal amount of the ointment to the wound and bandaged him up.

Lara cleaned the other parts of his upper body and applied the ointment to his wounds.

’What a handsome face.’ Lara sighed. She took a clean piece of cloth and started wiping his face.

She snickered softly. It looked like he valued his face enough to keep it untouched, even in the heat of battle.

When she was done cleaning his face, her gaze drifted lower.

His waist.

His legs.

Her face heated. Was she supposed to remove his pants?

No. Absolutely not.

But still... he must be uncomfortable.

With a resigned sigh, she settled for removing his boots, setting them aside with a soft thud.

The stained sheets needed changing. She worked carefully, maneuvering his unconscious form as best as she could. By the time she finished, exhaustion weighed heavy on her limbs.

With a tired groan, she slumped into the wooden chair beside the bed, exhaling deeply.

A moment of silence.

Then—A pair of obsidian eyes locked onto hers.

She froze.

Alaric was awake. And he was watching her.

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