Onyx jumped at the voice, letting go entirely of the knife. He looked around to see a boy only a year or two older. The boy was dressed strangely, more fur and feathers, not cloth.
“What do you mean, kill him? I’m trying to help him.” He looked at Master Dervin, now looking extremely pale.
“If you pull that knife out of him now, he’ll bleed to death. You’ve naught prepared to staunch the flow of blood that I can see.”
“Could you help me keep him alive? It sounds like you know something about this. I don’t know anything about healing,” he looked pleadingly at the stranger. “I’m Onyx, and that’s Master Dervin.”
“My name is Sam.” Sam knelt down by Master Dervin examining the wound and the knife. “Removing that knife will be tricky. We’ll have to work together, if you want any chance of Master Dervin surviving. Are you sure you don’t want to just finish him off instead? That will be easier.”
Onyx shook his head. “I need Master Dervin. He’s teaching me…stuff.” Onyx found himself reluctant to say the word magic after Frillion. “What should I do?”
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