The (not-so) Good Samaritan (1)

The drops of blood made Lia stop. That would always mean bad news. For the first time since she transmigrated, Lia entertained the idea of having wild animals lurking around. The forest seemed peaceful that she never really paid attention to the possible dangers within it. Tamara was not bothered either so Lia thought that it was okay. She should have been suspicious when the men barged in their safe space, that this place would no longer shelter them. Now, she hated how complacent she was.

She scanned the surrounding, tuning in even to the slightest sound or changes in the air. But she could only do so much. Her modern, sheltered life did not prepare her for something like this.

Lia bit her lower lip and thought of her next move. She could -- should -- move away, pretend that she did not see any of this. Her eyes followed the trail of blood. It led to the area where she had to get the remaining materials she needed.

"Isn't that great." She clicked her tongue.

She was afraid alright. And also a little curious. 'This isn't the time to be curious, Lia.'

Then, a thought struck her. The image of the beggar floated in Lia's mind. She shook her head. Impossible, right? It had been too long since that day since the goons arrived. But if there were other dangers?

Lia rolled her eyes. She was being silly. Still, her feet moved as if they had a mind of their own.

'I should have brought a weapon,' she thought. 'If there's a next time. And that's a big if.' She paused, just enough to find a sturdy looking branch and gripped it tightly in her hand.

She walked, using the trail as her guide while maintaining her vigilance. She glanced around for signs of any possible individuals around. She then arrived at a small cave. Her senses heightened when she saw bigger droplets of blood but decided to push through.

What she saw made her stop.

There, slumping on a boulder in a cave was a lump of grime. He still looked the same as last time, maybe a little grimier if he could get even more filthy than he already was. But aside from that, he looked much weaker. The beggar must have sensed her arrival. He looked up and squinted in her direction.

"Who are you?" His voice sounded hoarse, and he wheezed. Yet none of it could dampen that murdering look he gave Lia. She reeled back but did not break their eye contact. "What do you want?"

"It's me. Uh… you saved us, remember? Men?" She winced at her inability to form coherent sentences. But finding the beggar here, of all places, and injured rendered her speechless. With tentative steps, she approached him as she gripped the branch tighter. She crouched a few steps away as she scanned his body for injuries. He was full of grime, as expected, and dried blood. There were multiple cuts and bruises, but the biggest wound was on his leg.

"You're wounded." Who would do such a thing to a beggar? She wouldn't have rushed forward, fearing the beggar, but the wound made her move faster.

"Stop. I'm fine," he croaked and swatted Lia's hand when she tried to check his arms for wounds.

"Yeah, right. Wait here. I'll get--"

The beggar held her wrist with amazing strength when she tried to stand up. "You're not calling anyone."

Lia was surprised by the commanding tone he used like he was used to ordering people around. "I'm not. I'm going to get some medicine and bandages… and... and maybe some food in our house."

"You might as well not come back here and pretend you didn't see me." She heard the beggar say as she went back home.