He tilted his head slightly to one side.
His damaged senses occasionally malfunctioned.
Waiting for the ringing in his ears to subside, he brushed past the woman and entered the tent.
Perhaps she had burned herbs again during the night. The dim interior was thick with the bitter scent of smoke. Mixed within it, however, was another peculiar fragrance, something like overripe fruit on the verge of rotting.
It was that strange scent that had begun clinging to her skin at some point.
He held his breath for a moment before slowly inhaling.
Then he quietly called her name.
“Talia.”
No answer came.
But he could sense her presence.
Stepping into the disorderly space littered with bowls, wine bottles, and drinking cups, his eyes moved busily.
Then he stopped.
Beside the disheveled bed lay a heap of clothes.
He crouched before a large chest placed against one side of the tent.
Carefully lifting the lid, he saw a small figure curled up inside.
Again, his body reacted strangely.
It felt as though a horse's hoof had struck him squarely in the solar plexus.
Suppressing the turmoil within him, he placed a hand on her shoulder.
The woman with her head buried in her knees slowly raised it.
Beneath soaked eyelashes appeared pure blue eyes untouched by any impurity. Clear tears spread across skin so translucent it resembled that of a creature dwelling in the deep sea.
Holding her damp cheeks in his hands, he gently stroked her slightly reddened chin and tilted her bowed head back.
Perhaps she had scratched herself somewhere. Several thin marks ran across her delicate neck.
As he examined them carefully, a cracked voice emerged from between blood-red lips.
“Did you... drive away all the monsters?”
He looked into her eyes again.
The dark blue irises, submerged as though beneath water, trembled precariously.
He remembered the first time he had seen those eyes.
The day he regained color.
They had been the first color he saw.
At the sensation of something tightening deep in his throat, he drew a long breath and rose with his rigid body.
Soft, supple arms wrapped naturally around his neck.
Her faint sobs dampened his taut skin.
“I thought they were taking me away again.”
Varkas tightened his arms around her.
It won't happen again.
The words that hovered on the tip of his tongue sank back into his throat.
Ever since the accident, he found himself swallowing his words whenever he stood before her.
The words he kept swallowing accumulated inside him like layers of sediment.
Frowning at the uncomfortable sensation, as though stones were crushing his insides, he gently stroked her narrow back, which trembled intermittently.
Her stiff body gradually relaxed and melted softly against him.
He gently lifted the head resting on his shoulder and looked at her face.
Her eyes were already closed, as though exhaustion had overwhelmed her.
His thumb brushed her drooping golden lashes. Adjusting her slipping body in his arms, he quickly surveyed the room.
An overcoat hung from one of the tent poles.
He grabbed it, wrapped it around her body, and stepped outside.
Crossing the camp swiftly, several mounted warriors dismantling tents cast curious looks his way.
He pulled the robe over her head.
Ever since she had been less than five crevets tall, those men had looked at her like starving wild dogs.
And this woman, though she feared their eyes, sometimes exposed herself before them without the slightest defense.
As though she did not care if she were torn apart.