The flickering light woke Rose and she turned her head and looked outside. Still dark out, she thought, I must have fallen asleep. A waste of tallow.
She sat up and stretched, grimacing at the move, before pushing her hair out of her face and pulling the covers away to get up and blow out the candle. Thump! She looked over the side of the bed, seeing the journal laying on the floor. And that's the culprit, she thought with chagrin as she reached down to pick it up. Fishing in the sheets, she found the small ribbon that served as a place mark, and sought the page she'd be reading to bookmark it for later.
The animals continue to come to the sanctuary for healing, or for release from their pain. More and more it takes up my time, between the lessons of tracking and healing. I've yet to determine what is causing the injuries, though whatever beasts do this leave a most foul odor behind in the wounds, like oxen meat left in the hot sun too long.
Rose shuddered at the description, knowing well the smell of rotting meat. She thought back to a neighbor's cow, which had been set upon by wolves when she was young, the body of it not being found for several days. Her father had taken her with him as the small village sought the stray animal. By the time they had found what remained of the animal, the stench had been enough to make her wretch into the nearby bushes.
Shaking off the memory, she glanced down at the book. Curiosity and weariness warred, and she turned the page.
Today I successfully tracked Gwenaewen to her hiding spot. I could tell she was pleased with me by the sound of her laughter in my head. That night she helped me braid my hair, teaching me a simple method to keep it up and out of the way as I tend my duties.
One of the beasts dared to enter the protected glade. I saw the dark fur as it skulked along the edges, its red eyes glowing as it watched me from a distance. A cun annun, it dared not come far inside the bounds. I chased it off, sending my spear into its side. When I went to retrieve it, the beast had already disappeared – dead or not, I don't know. But the smell of its blood on the grass made me sick. Like it was already dead.
A creature who smells of death? Rose furrowed her brow and thought. She'd never heard of such a thing, though she imagined it must have been some illness that caused the animal to smell this way. She looked down to continue reading, then shook her head, her eyes blurring the words even as she tried.
Later, she thought, as she marked the page and set the book aside. This time, remembering the candle, she got out of bed and blew it out, before returning to sleep.
