wake up

Draven dragged the cart carrying Alice, stumbling and staggering all the way back to the shack by the river. His right shoulder throbbed with pain, making it almost impossible to use, and he only managed to keep the cart from tipping over thanks to sheer willpower and the pulling of his left hand. He slammed the shack door open with his body, screaming in a tearful voice, "Brother! Sister Quileta! Quileta!"

Quiretta had taken on some sewing work yesterday and hadn't finished it, so she stayed home today to catch up. Hearing Draven's panicked cries, her heart sank. She immediately put down her needlework and rushed to him. Draven was deathly pale, covered in blood and dust, his eyes filled with terror.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Quileta's voice became tense, and her gaze passed over Draven and landed on Alice, who was curled up in the cart.

Draven no longer had the strength to carry Alice out. His left hand trembled as he grabbed Quiretta's arm, pulled her to the door, pointed at Alice in the car, and stammered, "Alice... she..."

Quiretta, without asking any questions, quickly bent down and lifted Alice from the cart. The little girl was limp, her eyes closed, and she had already fainted. Quiretta's heart clenched. She quickly carried Alice into the house, placed her on the wooden plank bed covered with dry straw, and pinched her philtrum hard, while anxiously asking Draven, who was following behind her, completely bewildered, "What happened? What happened to you?"

Draven, looking at the unconscious Alice, was both anxious and frightened. He incoherently recounted what had happened: how he went to cause trouble for Scarface, how he returned to the agreed-upon location only to find Alice missing, and how he followed the sound to that dead-end alley...

As he recounted how he repeatedly stabbed Yellowtooth in the stomach with a dagger until the man stopped moving, Draven's body trembled uncontrollably, as if he could again feel the blade cutting into flesh and the warm blood splattering on his face. He had killed someone; this realization washed over him like ice water.

Quiretta listened, her face growing paler and paler. She couldn't imagine what would have happened if Draven hadn't found her in time, if Lark hadn't risked his life to protect her, if Alice hadn't blocked that attack at the crucial moment... She might have lost both of her younger siblings at the same time.

She forced herself to calm down; now was not the time to cry. She checked their injuries first. Draven's right shoulder was swollen badly, the skin burning hot, and he winced in pain at the slightest touch, unable to lift his arm at all. Alice lay face down on the bed, a clear, two-finger-wide red welt on her back, the edges already turning purple, a horrifying sight along with the strangulation marks on her neck.

Quilette wiped away her tears and sprang into action. She fetched water and two relatively clean rags, handing one to Draven: "Quick, wipe the blood off your face and hands!" She herself used the other rag to carefully wipe the stains from Alice's cheeks and neck, then quickly helped Draven remove his blood-stained rag and put on a clean old garment.

"Let's go find old Fasa!" Quileta picked up the still unconscious Alice, gestured for Draven to follow, and hurriedly went out the door.

In this slum, only an old woman named Fasa, who knew a little about herbal medicine, lived in a shack near the east side of town, four alleys away. When Quiretta arrived carrying Alice, there were two other residents waiting in the shack for help with headaches and fevers. Quiretta squeezed in, pleading with a sob in her voice, "Mrs. Fasa, please see my sister first! She's unconscious! Please!"

Seeing the urgency of the situation, the two residents made way. Old Fasa's face was covered with deep wrinkles, her eyes cloudy yet unusually focused. She gestured for Quileta to place Alice on the low couch covered with straw mats. She first carefully examined the strangulation marks on Alice's neck, gently pressing her fingers against the surrounding skin, then carefully lifted Alice's clothes to examine the club wounds on her back. Her calloused hands meticulously touched around the wounds, examining the bones.

“No bones are broken,” the old woman said hoarsely, her voice like wind rustling through dry leaves. “She fainted from fright, plus the blow was quite forceful.” Then, she turned to Draven, gesturing for him to sit down. Her thin fingers gripped Draven’s swollen shoulder with considerable force, causing him to cry out in pain, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead. Old Fasa remained unmoved, then lifted his limp right arm and slowly moved it up, down, left, and right, observing Draven’s reaction. “He hit a tendon, and the muscles are badly injured too, hence the swelling. The bones are fine; he just needs to rest.”

Quilette was still worried: "Then why hasn't she woken up yet?"

Old Fasa didn't speak. He turned and rummaged through a clay pot, finding a few dry, oddly shaped leaves, which he lit with a flint. The leaves burned, emitting a cool, pungent smell. He held the smoking leaves to Alice's nose and gently waved them. Amidst the swirling smoke, after a few minutes, Alice's eyelids fluttered a few times, and finally she slowly opened her eyes, her gaze dazed and weak.

"She's awake! She's awake!" Quileta hugged Alice tightly, bursting into tears of joy. Draven also tried to smile, but the movement pulled at the wound on his face, making his expression a mix of crying and laughing.

Old Fasa pried open Alice's eyelids to check her pupils, then had her move her fingers to confirm she was alright. After confirming she was unharmed, he deftly wrapped several packets of herbs and handed them to Quiretta: "The yellow ones, mix with a little water to form a paste, apply externally to the wound twice a day to reduce swelling and pain. The green ones, boil in water and drink to calm the nerves. Two doses each." Quiretta paid with eighteen copper coins, gratefully accepted the herbs, and, carrying the still somewhat nauseous and dazed Alice, took Draven home.

As evening fell, Darius dragged his weary body back to the hut. The moment he opened the door, a strong smell of herbs wafted out. He saw Alice lying face down on the bed, fast asleep, her face pale. Draven, sleeping close beside her, had a thick layer of herbal ointment on his right shoulder, his complexion equally unwell. Quileta sat at the small table, watching the porridge bubbling in the pot.

"What happened?" Darius's heart sank, his voice low and serious.

With red eyes, Quiretta recounted to Darius what Draven had told her. When Darius heard that Draven had stabbed a member of the Black Rat Gang to death with a dagger to save Alice, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Quileta rose and climbed the makeshift attic that served as a storage room. She carefully took down a shriveled, smoked rabbit—their precious meat saved for winter or to sell for emergencies. Today, both children were frightened and injured, and needed some nourishment. She cut off two rabbit legs, cleaned them, and added them to the simmering porridge. Soon, a rare aroma of meat filled the cramped shed.

The aroma of the meat porridge woke Draven and Alice one after the other. Draven's stomach rumbled, and he climbed out of bed to get the bowl to feed Alice, but the slightest strain on his right shoulder made him gasp in pain, unable to lift the rough ceramic bowl.

Seeing this, Darius gestured for him to sit down: "Eat by yourself." Then, he picked up a bowl of porridge, walked to the bedside, and intended to feed Alice himself. His tall figure drew near, casting a shadow, and he tried to put on a gentle expression.

However, the moment Alice saw him approach, especially remembering the two menacing, tall men in the alley, fear gripped her instantly. She burst into tears, her small body shrinking desperately into the corner of the bed, sobbing incoherently, "Little De... Little De... I'm scared..."

Everyone was stunned. Darius's outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

Draven immediately endured the shoulder pain and ran to the bedside, putting his arm around Alice with his uninjured left arm, gently patting her back, and whispering reassuringly, "Don't be afraid, Alice, it's Draven, it's my brother, he's not a bad person... Look, it's me, I'm here..."

With Draven's comforting words, Alice's crying gradually subsided into sobs, but she still resisted Darius's approach. In the end, Quileta had to come over, take the bowl, and feed Alice the porridge spoonful by spoonful.

Dinner ended in a somber atmosphere. Alice drank the calming tonic and quickly fell into a deep sleep, but she was still occasionally startled in her sleep. Darius glanced at his brother and whispered, "Draven, come out here for a moment."

Draven's heart tightened; he knew there was no escaping it. He followed his brother out of the shed and to the riverbank. The night breeze was damp and cool on his face, and he shivered.

The two brothers stood in silence for a while. Darius, looking at his younger brother's particularly thin figure in the night, spoke first, his voice low and serious:

“I’m very angry about what happened today, Draven.”

Draven lowered his head, not daring to look his brother in the eye.

“You’re always so reckless and reckless! You promised to take care of Alice, but you left her there all alone! Have you ever thought that if you hadn’t gone to cause trouble for Scarface, none of this would have happened! Alice almost didn’t come back because of your recklessness! Do you understand what this means?!” Darius’s tone grew increasingly harsh.

Draven bit his lip, his shoulders slumped, and tears welled up in his eyes. He knew his brother was right.

“But,” Darius’s tone softened, “you didn’t run when you realized Alice was in danger.”

Draven looked up at his brother with some surprise.

“You charged in. Facing an enemy far stronger than yourself, you drew your knife.” There was a subtle change in Darius’s voice. “You chose to fight. You saved Alice. You protected your family.”

He reached out and pressed heavily on Draven's uninjured left shoulder.

“Today, you proved you’re not a coward.” Darius stared into his brother’s eyes. “At the most crucial moment, you did what a man should do.”

Finally, he pulled Draven close, his strong arms encircling his younger brother's thin shoulders.

"You were brave, Draven. You protected your sister."

"Just like I used to protect you."