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The Hunter Between	By : BurneHazard Category: +A through F > Diablo III Views: 6166 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Diablo III (3) and all content therein is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no money from writing it.

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            Waking slowly, the very first thing she knew was that she was in a soft bed. The covers were soft and cool when she did manage to move a little bit. It was when she moved that she realized there was no pain. Her eyes opened to focus very slowly. There was a ceiling over her head and for a few moments she was at a loss. The last thing she had known was the wagon on the road then being lifted and moved. Pain had spiked and she had felt herself fall.
            "You're awake," came a voice.
            Shandra slowly turned her head toward the source. Partially tensing for anticipated pain, she was surprised when it did not come. Focusing sleep-blurred eyes, she frowned. It was difficult to keep concentrating when her mind itself was rather fuzzy. Only, it did not feel like a normal sleep. Lack of pain aside, there was something off with how it felt to try and move her body. Both arms and legs were stiff and felt far heavier than they should.
            "How are you feeling?"
            The one speaking was a man in robes the style of the desert peoples. He was near a window that he was opening to let a little more light into the room. And that was when she noticed it was not an actual room but the entire interior. The house was just one room with a few curtains spread over the walls. Not that large, but it would certainly be comfortable for one to live in.
            "...sluggish," she finally answered after a few moments of just looking around. "Where am I?"
            "My home. Well, one of them. Lyndon practically dragged you in here."
            "Where is he?" Shandra asked as she slowly tried to push herself up in the bed.
            Her host was there as she managed to struggle up a little to recline against the pillows. A cup was offered. She did not attempt to take it, nor did she refuse his help when he held it to her lips to drink. It smelled of very bitter herbs but was rather smooth. A hint of sweetness like honey helped her to down it. That and she was thirsty.
            "I sent him out after some more plant leaves. He should be back soon."
            When the cup was drawn away, she relaxed and looked back to the man. Only then did the face click in her memory.
            "The apothecary we helped out."
            "Ah, good. Your memory hasn't suffered the way your body has. I was a little concerned about possibly addled wits. Given your condition, I had to dose you very heavily to keep you asleep while the medicines worked."
            He turned away to busy himself with something. She had no energy to be even the slightest bit curious. Her curiosity was for herself. Gaze falling, she slowly pushed back the light sheet covering her. Bandages of a strange sort were loosely wound about her torso and shoulder, reaching along her burned arm. None bore any hint of pink or so much as a stain of excess liquid. Rather than mess with them, she slowly moved her bad leg out from beneath the covers.
            There were no bandages around her leg. As she very slowly bent her knee, there was a familiar pull of hard skin. Reaching down, she brushed her fingers over her knee then ran them over the area she knew was injured. Rough skin met her fingertips. Her leg tensed at the nearly painful sensation of the touch. But aside from that, no bleeding, no fire, no pain beyond that incredible sensitivity. Her eyes confirmed this much when the apothecary returned with a light in hand.
            "Careful now. We've been able to heal you pretty well. Lyndon mentioned something about accelerated healing and from what I've seen, I believe him. The burns were very bad however. Even healed, you'll be...well, extremely sensitive in those areas for the rest of your life."
            "I'd wondered why it didn't hurt," she admitted as she very lightly ran her fingers over the scars on her thigh.
            "You've managed to heal in one week what it would take anyone else months or years to overcome. I must say, I'm quite impressed."
            That caught her attention as she looked back to him. He was busy studying her leg in the light however, not touching but lips moving as if he were talking to himself. Bringing her bandaged arm up, she narrowed her eyes at it thoughtfully.
            "Just...how long was I out again?"
            "A little over a week."
            That made Shandra jerk slightly. Frowning, she regarded the apothecary warily. "You kept me in a drugged sleep for over a week?"
            "No," the man said, apparently oblivious to the possible danger in her still-rough voice. "Only the first two days. Afterward, nothing could wake you. And some of what your friend and I had to do to help you should have."
            Relaxing again at that, she debated pulling the bandage off her arm. Then, something else occurred to her.
            "If my leg is mostly healed, what of the rest?"
            "Well, even I'm not a miracle-worker. The worst of the burns were to your body. I decided to bandage you not merely for modesty, but to protect those areas. You became restless a few days ago and nearly undid your own body's work. I had to dose you again yesterday to make sure you slept through the last two treatments. And it worked."
            Glaring at the man, she paused only long enough to make sure she did have something on beneath the covers other than bandages. Once that was ascertained, she pushed the sheet back and struggled to sit up. Although he stepped back, when it was clear she was having trouble, he reached out to help her sit up and lean back against the wall the bed rested against. Even that exertion made sweat form and her breathing come faster.
            "I don't feel anything on my face," she said when she had caught her breath.
            "I had to let it breathe sometime," he said a little tersely.
            Turning away, he moved to a table beneath a bunch of high shelves and rummaged around. Various clinks, clanks, and rustles filled the space for a few moments. Finding the object of his search, he returned to offer her a small hand mirror. Staring at it, she found herself loathe to reach for it. After a moment however, she did and drew it around to look at herself.
            Shandra stared at her reflection in surprise. The skin was no longer a mess of red, white, purple, and other disgusting colors. Although still red, the color was that of an intense sunburn rather than raw muscle. White was scattered through it but with a more fleshy tone to it. She was no fool. The still-healing injury was a horrible sight and would form equally horrible scars when fully healed. As it was, she was simply thankful it did look better.
            "The salves worked better on your extremities and face than they did on your body. Compresses were used on those. And the herbal soaks did far more than I'd hoped..."
            He continued to ramble on as she tuned him out. Just studying her face, she looked more for any overly exposed spots rather than focusing on the way the damage would make her look in the future. A few spots looked as if they might need careful tending but they were small. Tilting the mirror, she aimed it along her neck where one injury that had not been a burn rested. The slice across the left of her throat was fully healed.
            Noise at the door broke her from her intense study of her injuries. Looking up, she had to blink a few times to make her eyes focus on the distant thing. The apothecary went to open it. Lyndon entered with an armload of spiny leaves wrapped in torn sackcloth. He wore just a sleeveless shirt and his arms and face bore multiple small scratches. He had a few stray leaves in his hair...and oddly, he was a very welcome sight.
            Relaxing as the scoundrel handed his burden over to the apothecary, she set the mirror aside. Lyndon rubbed his hands along his arms and moved toward her. He looked at her and a smile bloomed across his face. It was so unexpected that it made her eyes widen. A moment later, she remembered the past week--or was it weeks now?--they had been together. Every other time he had to look at her would be brief and with pain or something else she had never cared to identify.
            This time, all she could see was relief, happiness--and a warmth in his eyes she had not thought to see again. It was all she had time to take in before he had her wrapped in a tight hug. He was careful where he touched though.
            "Shandra! It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"
            Almost slowly, she brought her arms up to return his hug. Her embrace was hardly as strong or as long however since her arms simply gave out. Withdrawing, he took care to lean her back against the wall before releasing her completely. Straightening, he again rubbed at his arms.
            "Groggy. And apparently, you're to blame for it."
            "Well, that's just what happens when you're too stubborn and wake before the kiss."
            Blinking, she stared at him blankly.
            Lyndon was still grinning even as he turned to head for a bucket with a rag draped over the side of it. "Don't pretend you don't know the story."
            "I just woke up, Lyndon," she growled.
            "And if you'd just have waited a little longer, you could have woken to me kissing you. Just like in the stories."
            Then she caught onto what he was alluding to. The moment she realized, his grin grew as he turned to take the cloth and start rinsing his arms off. Unfortunately for him, Shandra had more will power than was healthy. The pillow she threw caught him full on the back and made him jump in surprise. He knocked over the bucket, effectively spilling it over his body and the floor.
            It was worth falling onto her side on the bed when the throw overbalanced her weakened body. Laughing softly despite the uncomfortable pull of her injuries, Shandra had to admit, she felt rather good. More than good. It had been so long living and moving in endless, burning pain for those few weeks that the complete absence of it was almost...heaven. For now, a little weakness seemed a small price to pay.
            "And even slowed by beauteous sleep, the lady doth wound me!" Lyndon said dramatically.
            The result was Shandra collapsing into more snickers as she lay there. Cleaning himself and his mess up, the scoundrel dried his pants as best as he could and moved to where the apothecary was working with the leaves he had brought back.
            "This should be the last batch I need. That strange holy water you had will make this salve quite strong. It should last you as long as you'll require," the man was saying.
            "Good. But I honestly don't know if you're underestimating or overestimating something."
            Lyndon moved back over as the hunter pulled herself together enough to roll more onto her side. Reaching out, he tugged the sheets back and free before offering her a hand up. Taking it without protest, Shandra managed to sit back up and draw herself closer to the edge of the bed. Letting her legs down, she sat for a moment to clear her head and find her balance. Rising slowly, she caught Lyndon's offered arm and took the support to stay on her feet.
            "Let's get you over to the table. I'm sure you're hungry," the thief said.
            His answer rose in an audible growl from her stomach. It earned a dark look from Shandra and a cough of laughter from Lyndon. And she found his good humor was infectious. Too much so, but she was not going to question it. Right now, a little rest and light-heartedness was precisely what she needed to let go of the last month and start regaining her focus. Once she could stand on her own feet however, the hunt would resume.
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The Hunter Between