12

Carefree has increased

Blasted human society and its unnatural sleep schedule! The Industrial Revolution may have brought us the printing press, but the cost of naps is too high a price. The gnomes had it right all along: 'Two naps before dinner, else you're a mule skinner!'

You head out into the nearby woods where your father should be out hunting. While most of the men in town prefer to dig for shiny rocks miles underground, your old man is far more accustomed to working above sea level. How he doesn't recognize the appeal of black lung and mine collapses is beyond you.

You've just about given up hope of locating your parental figure when a man's screams send your feet into a sprint. Wolves wouldn't dare get this close…but there were rumors of a bear prowling around last week. Dodging tree roots and potential twisted ankles, you arrive upon a horrendous scene. Your father is attending to a young man's leg…or at least, what's left of it.

Blood, flailing tendons, and a flash of bone…it's enough to make you toss up your lunch. But you're no pushover yourself, and after regathering your wits, you jump to help your father detach the bear trap. Your father's mutters help keep your mind away from the liquids oozing over your fingers. "Frakkin' new-fangled traps, bet one of 'em sneaky halfmen thought himself clever…impossible to get the damn things off…"

It is only after you manage to get the trap off that you realize the boy has passed out from the pain. He isn't a bad looker. A bit on the skinny side, with pale porcelain skin that had hardly dealt with the sun's rays (recent blood loss notwithstanding). His long, dark hair, while in a mess on the forest floor, still manages to look better than yours even on a good day. And his figure is…wait, what are you thinking? You've got to get him back to town as soon as possible!

As gently yet swiftly as you are able, you and your father carry the wounded stranger to the hut of the medicine man who lives nearby. Even if you hadn't passed it a thousand times before, the powerful…incense makes it very easy to find.

Did I say man? I meant to say woman. The healer and spiritual guide of the community is a surprisingly down-to-earth old lady. That is to say, she isn't high half the time like most folks in her profession are. Rumor has it that she's an ex-Druid, though to ask her why seems far too rude. "Goodness me, no time to get the apron on this time. Be a couple of dears and set him on the table." You make room for the little lady to get to work and stand idly beside your father.

While waiting, your father gives details on how he came across the poor dying sap. "Was out on my usual path when I heard a metal snatch, then a crunch and scream. Knew no animal made that noise. We been hearing of bears about lately, some spooked goon started sprinkling them fancy new traps all over the place. Ain't think this'll be the last you'll have, healer."

Your eyes fixate upon the deeply heaving figure on the table. Primarily, you focus on his: