Whisper beyond the veil

"He is like a meek dove fighting against injustice, while I come from hell itself."

***

The branches of the trees were an obstacle to his haste. That dark and pathless forest was taking its toll on him since he had no free space to ride in; even so, he did not stop. Aimlessly, with cold sweat all over his body and blood pouring from his side, he used what little energy he had left to escape. The branches hit him mercilessly and, thanks to the darkness, he would not know when they would hit his face, causing his eyes to burn; however, he rode at full speed with only one thought: to save his life.

The branches stopped his attack bringing relief to his face. He didn't know if he was hallucinating, but he thought he saw the end of the forest and a light. He stopped his gait suddenly when he saw a terrifying figure holding a small lamp, because of the shock and the quickness of the stop, the horse threw him to the ground and took flight. The horrifying figure approached him, so he feared and wanted to flee like his treacherous companion, but he had no strength; little by little the light was waning and he lost consciousness.

(...)

The body was strong, so it was difficult to carry him to the small hut. Was he dead? She took his pulse and hurried to lay him down. Once at his disposal, he tore the bloody shirt and, by candlelight, cleaned the wound and stopped the bleeding. She reached for one of the jars that were on a table filled with jars and containers of herbs, took a greenish powder from it, and covered the wound with the strange remedy. After cleaning and applying the contents of the container, she bandaged the narrow waist of the stranger.

Curious, she brought the candle close to the convalescent and saw a young and attractive face. His closed eyes showed thick black eyelashes. She ran her gaze over the man's face, fixing her eyes on his small and aesthetic nose, also on his fleshy and beautiful lips. She couldn't remember ever seeing such an attractive and elegant man. His skin was creamy despite the pallor from blood loss. His silky black hair shone in the low light, it was disheveled, though it was noticeable that he kept it well-groomed. She continued to shine the light until she reached his torso, firm and strong.

Who was this man? An angel who had lost his way, some royalty? Why was he wounded? Why had his horse abandoned him? And... How did he get there?! So many unanswered questions. She would have to wait for him to wake up. But... What would she do when that happened? He could be dangerous, perhaps an escaped felon. She shook her head with some trepidation. Maybe he was mugged on the road. Whatever happened might affect her, as it was obvious that this stranger was no ordinary person. His clothes were very fine and the watch, a ring on his right hand, and the thick chain around his neck were of pure gold.

(...)

The sun's rays that slipped through the holes attacked his eyes until they dissipated his sleep. His expression was one of fright and confusion, where was he? A pain in his side reminded him that he had been stabbed on the road. He lowered his gaze to his abdomen and widened his eyes as he noticed that he was bandaged and his chest exposed.

He scanned the place with his gaze and scrunched up his face as he realized how gaunt that attempt at a hut was. He couldn't deny the neatness and orderliness of its owner, but any breeze would blow the little house away.

‘What a bad builder,’ he thought with amusement.

His rescuer was a person of very low means, to be living in such squalid conditions. The "bed" was a pile of straws tied together with cloth, and on this lay a huge white sheet with a delicious scent of flowers. A brown quilt lay on his legs and in front of him was a long wooden table on a rock, simulating a small table. On top of it was a deep dish with a broth that had only vegetables in it, and next to it was a cup with what he assumed was tea. His attention was drawn to the small tablecloth that covered the wood, giving it a less poor and rough appearance. The only window in the hut was closed and under it was a small wooden table that limped with different jugs, bowls with rare powders, and a basket full of herbs. Amidst all the concoction, stood a candle inside what appeared to be a glass lamp.

His stomach growled and he eyed the broth warily. The person who rescued him must have left it there for him, but... Should he ingest food that a stranger prepared? His stomach growled painfully again and he thought it was no time to be fussy or suspicious, anyway, that person saved his life.

He sighed contentedly and with a bit of joy despite his circumstance, for both the broth and the tea were delicious; and, finishing it all, had comforted him.

There was something about that mysterious place that gave him tranquility and a sense of well-being. Suddenly, the peace that settled him for another sleep session was broken when he perceived a shadow. On the one hand, he was happy to be able to thank his savior for the great gesture, but on the other hand, he feared that this person was someone dangerous. The silhouette of a figure wrapped in rags caught his attention, but before he could discover who it was, the person backed away with haste and intention to escape or hide, an action that seemed very strange to him.

“I know you're there, it's ridiculous for you to hide. Who are you and why are you hiding in your own house?”

Frustration filled his chest as he received no answer. He knew he was there, he could see his shadow.

“Listen, I didn't come to your house, you brought me here and cured me, believe me, I won't hurt you," he insisted.

He remained expectant without taking his eyes off the door waiting for a reaction; then, the shadow moved, and, timidly and hesitantly, the image of a person entered the deteriorated place. He stood transfixed for a moment looking at that... Woman?