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Caracara's Hunt

For twenty years, Arawn has spent every day in magic-dampening prisons. The latest being the Gutter, a place for the worst the human kind has to offer. Haunted by memories of the past and overwhelming power he cannot control, Arawn wishes for nothing more than to rot away in the darkness, far from the fragile humans he might hurt. Yet a new criminal is sent to the Gutter. He’s lively, alert, and too self-assured to just let himself die in a dingy cell. The moment he notices Arawn’s fascination with the outside world, he showers him in tales about its beauty and warmth, something very opposite to the dark cell they now inhabit. Slowly, a long dead sprout of curiosity rises its head within Arawn. But are abominations like him even allowed in the outside world? Wouldn’t he be smited by the gods the moment he took a step out? He would do it, if he were them. --- If you want to chat about the novel or ask me anything, visit my discord ^^ https://discord.gg/ZegeFhH

SteelCrown · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
123 Chs

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Arawn caught the man's eyes. "You're like Corwal, aren't you? A hound?"

"So you know about that?" the man in the glasses asked with some amusement. "That's unusual. When did he get so careless?" He looked at Corwal lying unconscious over his shoulder. "I really need to find the guy who did this to him."

They reached a wall at that moment, and the doctor shushed them to be quiet. He stayed by the wall for a moment as if listening for something, then put his hand against it. Ether rushed into the stone, activating the ether within it, and the wall melted in front of their eyes.

The sight was as marvelous as the first time, but the doctor didn't give them time to admire his handiwork. He ushered them out, closed the wall, and led them between two houses.

A loud bell rang at that moment. It woke all the sleeping servants, and they left their rooms while rubbing their eyes. Some of them held lanterns or candles in their hands, lighting up the night.

The doctor mentioned for them to stay still while he jogged to one of the servants and asked what was happening as if he didn't know. They gossiped for a moment, then the man returned while the closest group of servants left toward the guard tower.

"I told them I heard some noise near my clinic, so they left to get the guards. Come now, we need to leave while they're gone."

With the path clear, it was an easy matter to get to the clinic. It was only a couple buildings away, as the doctor had said.

Once inside, Arawn felt like he'd entered another world. There wasn't a lot of furniture in the main room, just a wooden settee, a small table next to it, and a flower pot, but all of them were as shiny as if they had just been cleaned. There wasn't a single speck of dust anywhere.

Even the ground, walls, and ceiling were pristine. Arawn felt like he was doing something sacrilegious by stepping with his dirty shoes on such spotless surface.

The doctor noticed his hesitation to step forward and scowled. "I'll have you scrub all the mess you make, so don't worry and quickly get inside. I need to hide you before the guards come here."

He led them to the next room which had two chairs facing each other and a long table that could hold a grown man. There were cabinets all along the walls, and a herbal scent drifted from them.

Next was the doctor's living quarters. He left them at a room adjacent to his bedroom with an order to stay silent if they wanted to live. Otherwise, he was going to bring the guards over so they would be sent back to the dungeon, or just executed on the spot since they were so good at escaping.

As he said that, someone knocked on the door outside. The doctor took his sweet time before finally deciding to answer, and when he did go to the door, he didn't let the men in, but stepped out himself. It made it hard for Arawn to hear what was being said, but there were no raised voices, which surprised him. Were the guards fine with not being able to check the house? They'd see their black footprints on the otherwise polished wooden floor at first glance if they just took a look inside.

Soon, the doctor returned with a scowl. He didn't say anything about what happened, but ordered them to go outside at the back of the house and wash themselves clean with water from the well. He also brought a bucket into the room with the long table on which he moved Corwal.

Although the doctor had a willowy figure, his strength couldn't be underestimated. He was much more physically capable than Arawn would have thought.

"It's freezing," Eliot murmured upon touching the water of the well. "Do we really have to do this?"

There was pleading in the boy's eyes, but Arawn didn't know what to say to him. Corwal was the one who knew all the answers, not him. Following others' orders was all that Arawn had done his whole life. It didn't even cross his mind to question what he was being told.

Without a word, he rinsed himself in freezing water. The night's cool air didn't help, and by the time he was finished, he was shivering for real. Eliot looked even worse, his lips blue and face pale.

When they were about done, the doctor came out with towels and two sets of clothes. They were too big for Arawn and massive for Eliot, but they dressed in them anyway. Anything was acceptable when one was freezing.

Upon coming inside, a putrid smell assaulted them. The room stank of decay and rot.

Before they could ask, the doctor motioned for them to come to the room with the long table. "Hold him. I washed the wound, but now I need to remove the spoiled flesh."

Arawn's stomach roiled at the open gash on Corwal's arm. The flesh around it was discolored, yellow and dark blue, almost violet, while some pieces were even black. The horrible smell was coming from there, and a few flies were buzzing about in interest.

The doctor waved for Arawn and Eliot to come and hold Corwal's other hand and legs. When they did so, he picked up a metal tool, drenched it in something that wasn't water but just as clear, and used it to cut off a piece of flesh.

Corwal's body jerked as if he'd been hit. He tried to move as his eyes flew open, but Arawn, Eliot, and the doctor kept him on the table. "What… you… doing?" he croaked, his words barely audible.

"Saving your life, you buffoon. Who said you could die on my doorstep?" the doctor replied with a sneer.

"Sly—"

Corwal didn't manage to finish his sentence for the doctor cut another piece of flesh away. He looked at his handiwork and nodded. "This should be enough. Keep still now."

With those words, ether collected in his hands. It was sluggish and slow, but moved with a clear purpose. Upon collecting in a mass, it went into the gash on Corwal's arm and mixed with the ether there.

Then, Arawn's jaw dropped to the floor. He could see what happened, but his eyes refused to believe it.

Muscle grew back at a speed visible to the naked eye, and blood vessels reconnected. Once they finished, skin grew over everything and covered the horrifying sight. The places that were discolored before returned to healthy pink as if nothing had ever happened.

In some ten minutes, there was no sign of the deep gash on Corwal's arm. There was not even a scar left.

He flexed his arm and sighed. "You've gotten better."

"Of course. Not all of us are too busy trying to kill ourselves to train our skills," the doctor snapped back. Now that Corwal was a bit more sensible, he seemed a lot more angry.

It puzzled Arawn. If they were friends, shouldn't the doctor be happy that Corwal was fine? Why was he annoyed even though he'd been so worried earlier?

"Can you leave the lecture for when I get better, Sylvester? My fever hasn't gone anywhere."

"I should have let you suffer for a while more just so you learned your lesson. What the hell happened this time?"

"Later…"

Corwal's voice was weak to begin with, and soon, it disappeared altogether. Sylvester glowered at him, then went to his room from which he brought a steaming cup of hot water. It seemed that during the time they had been cleaning up, he'd started a fireplace and put a pot to boil.

He picked a few herbs from one of the cabinets, let them steam for a moment, then woke Corwal up again and forced him to drink it. Corwal grimaced through it all, but finished the cup. "Never again," he muttered in exhaustion.

"You say that, but I seem to recall hearing it the last time you lay on my operating table too."

"Quiet," Corwal muttered. "The sick need to rest."

Sylvester sent him a mocking smile, but brought a blanket and threw it over him so he wouldn't freeze while sleeping. The doctor then ushered Arawn and Eliot out while leaving the room himself as well.

"You can rest in my study. There's a settee there."

Eliot didn't hesitate to take him up on that offer. The kid looked exhausted from the stressful day and fell asleep the moment he put his head down.

"You're not going?" Sylvester asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I have a question. Why are you so accepting of us? You don't even know who we are."

The doctor looked at him for a moment, then his features softened. A small smile played on his lips. "You're an orphan, aren't you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arawn asked while crossing his arms over his chest. His family's situation was something hidden so deep even he didn't dare to get close to it.

"No need to be so defensive. I'm not gonna ask why or what." The doctor looked at the closed door of the room they had just vacated. "Corwal is too kind for his own good. You're not the first lost souls he's picked up off the street. Whenever he thinks he can afford it, he'll try to save at least a few kids, give them a future as he puts it." His gaze returned to Arawn. "The moment I saw you and the kid, I knew you were his latest projects."

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