~~Chimera~~
"We are in luck," he said. "Gaia has provided."
Pinna and Medusa were up the moment the words were out his mouth. He waved them to sit back down, and he walked over to join them next to the satyr.
"Did you run into anyone?" Bellerophontes said. "Anyone out there that might be trouble?"
"It is as you said. The villages are far from here, but I did see other ships approach nearby waters. It would seem other cities are using Paros as a bay for trade. We should be cautious if we decide to head West." He sat down, and opened his bag. It'd taken hours to find all the plants he would need: Gaia's tears, wind trappers, valaram, and some cat's tongue. Whatever names the humans used, he did not know or care; they were ignorant of what they could do with such bountiful green from Gaia's womb.
He set a piece of the long green down onto a rock. "Unless Andromeda can find us and pursue us quickly—"
"She'll need time to fuel her magics, I figure, before she'll be hunting you down again," the dark Amazon said. How helpful she'd become in such a short time. His words must have cut her deep. Good. She deserved pain.
"Then Paros will hide us well enough for now. There are animals to hunt, fruit, fish." He said, half-talking to himself more than anything. He still needed food to fuel his recovery, but for now he would be fine. The satyr needed it more.
And the satyr did deserve it. The bard had risked his life to save Medusa, violated his oath to the Fates, and had tackled a Fate's Child with his literal bare hands. To do something was one thing, to risk your life another. To do both with your bare hands was the giant's way, and for that, the satyr deserved his best efforts.
"What... what're you gonna do?" Gallea said between groans.
"Treat your wounds. This will be painful."
The small creature coughed, and laughed. "Of course."
Pinna put her husband's head on her lap, and held his chest with one hand, a horn with the other. Medusa took one of the man's hands as well, and held it to her collar under her chin. The two of them looked ready to burst with worry. Darian and Otrera, on the other hand, looked between each other and then to him with the eyes of hardened warriors; they expected the satyr's doom. And yet, neither of them had dealt with the pain Medusa had. The difference made him smile, but he buried it as he began his work.
They unwrapped his bandage, and cleaned them in boiled water while he prepared the ingredients. Gaia's tears had to be chewed; a giant's saliva was needed to break down the green. He put them into the wound, deep into it, where he knew the plant would break apart in the satyr's blood and mend the flesh within. It earned screams from the hoofed man, but Chimera ignored them. When he struggled, Chimera pinned his body with his other hand.
Pinna reached out to brace against his arm. The tiny satyr was no taller than his arm was long. "Don't hurt—"
He frowned at her, and rumbled his annoyance. Sighing, she lowered her gaze, and sat down with her screaming husband's head on her lap. She reached for Gallea's hand, held it, and trembled with each pained noise.
Valaram and cat's tongue, he ground into powder against the rock. A lot of it. The man's wound was deep and had already started to swell with creeping death; it would take much of the two plants to keep the creeping death at bay, and let Gaia's tears work. Wind trappers were placed upon the wound, flat blades of grass, thick and prickly. They would not feel good against the skin, but they would remain fixed there, resistant to the shifting bandages that would pin them in place. Wind trappers would hasten the skin's healing, once blood touched it.
Gallea groaned, hollered, and squirmed through the process, but he could not move with the three of them holding him. For twenty minutes, the only sounds to be heard were his pain. But then, it was done.
"He's... going to be ok?" Pinna said.
"He will be fine. In three days the wound will be closed and safe, but it will be several weeks before he should be allowed to move." A few weeks was probably enough time for the sorceress to renew her efforts to kill them. And after the last battle, it was unlikely the sorceress would repeat the mistake of underestimating their group. If Bellerophon's story of the sea creature was true, then such a force, or one of similar make, would be her next attempt.
"Th-thanks," Gallea said.
The small man's wife stroked his hair, patted his chest, and smiled wider than Chimera thought possible. Tears were in her eyes, and she was quivering.
"Thank you!" Medusa slithered up to him, and threw her weight at him. He was a heavy, tall man, but Medusa had thirty feet of thick snake body behind her. She knocked him over, onto his ass, and wrapped her arms around him.
He froze. Her tiny human half struggled to wrap around his neck, thick as it was, but she managed, and she squeeze him while her snake hair nuzzled and kissed him with little forked tongues. With time, the serpent put her hands on his shoulder and raised herself up from him. She smiled and patted his chest. Tears were in her eyes as well.
"... you are welcome." He reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, but only to push her back to where she'd been before she pounced him. Despite removing her, she continued to smile at him with the eyes of a joyful child.
"Nearly... killed me... getting me there," Gallea said.
"Hush." The wife flicked her husband in the nose. "We owe you Chimera. We owe you a lot."
He rumbled, got up, and started to walk off.
"Where you going?" Darian said.
"For food. I must eat, and then I will gather provisions for you all." He didn't wait to hear what they had to say about it.
But he did manage a glance at the Amazon. She looked at him with a glare, bitterness apparent. He returned it, offering a silent snarl before he disappeared into the shadow.
Resentful assassin. That's what you called her, 'Chimera.' Awfully hypocritical of you, wasn't it? Isn't that why you're on this journey, after all? A chance to kill a god or two, for some revenge? Revenge for wiping out your tribe and family?
Yes, the similarities were obvious. Blatant. He knew his words were for her, and for him. His goals were trivial, his life meaningless, and he only continued to exist as a petty defiance against the wishes of the world.
He shook his head, and crouched low to the grass and brush as he crept through the foliage. In the night, the landscape was his to hunt; deer and the like would soon be his to devour. He'd make sure to catch some animals for the others as well.
He went higher. The karstic landscape meant there were rock cliffs, and hard, steep faces of rock he could climb. If he was careful, not even a pebble would know he'd stepped on them, and he could continue higher and higher. Above the forest and brush, the land was lit by the stars and the moon, and he could see for miles. Far out into the grasslands and near the shore, little dots of red marked the fires of villagers and vessels meant for cargo. They were closer than Chimera had let on, but he'd keep an ear open. If they approached, he would hide the group deeper into the canyon until it was safe.
