Passing Through, Does the man deserve life or death?

[Mark Hawk]

Astride horseback, George McCain's eyes thirstily surveyed the outcrop infront of him. Just barely he could make out the outlines of a village up ahead with his wavering consciousness. The avalanch of rocks had wounded him, although none could see anything on his skin by looking at him. He had concealed them, and as proof, his eyes had a continual glow, as it does when Vals where in use. Almost unaudably he clicked his tongue, and the horse set down the hill slowly, to keep from paining the man on his back. Then again, what was a little more pain? George McCain sighed and whispered: "Gallop already, I may be wounded but I am not frail." The horse sighed, and reluctantly moved into a trot. It was all George could get out of him in this state. Calmly, he closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the pain, push it at the back of his mind or swallow it up altogether. Failing, he opened them and waited patiently, focusing completely on making it to the village. There he could at least partially get help for his condition before moving on towards wherever the main city was for a more decent healer.

The horse he rode was called Sunlight, and was one of the more gentler horses in the many lands. It had onced belonged to a woman named Juliet, but during the burning down of her house, it had made its way into George's posession. It may have seemed harsh, but life was life, and McCain was and is a good friend of Juliet anyway. A few more stides, and they had made it into the town. At that moment, as Sunlight halted, George carefully and gracefully fell to the floor in a clump, gasped for breath, and released the Vals, revealing scars and gashes all over his body. His whole body was raw and blood leaked from almsot every vein. He turned his ehad slgihtly and saw the nearest villager and croaked, "Please, can you find me a healer?" He said it so calmly it seemed inhuman.

[Mark Hawk]

The villagers stared at him, almost in disbelief. Every one of them had their jaws wide open and a feeling of nervousness had swept through the crowd. Who was this strange man, all torn up? Where did his wounds come from? Blood oozed out from the flesh easily, and someone was going to have to do something rather soon, or he would perish.

"Call the healer!" A man yelled, and the crowd instantly started running aorund in circles, dashing around, searching for a healer who could possible help this poor young man. Dread was in their hearts, no one wanted death on their village's hands.

A healer was found within seconds and the crowd parted and let the man step through. He put two fingers on his neck and shook his head. "I don't think he is going to make it, friends." The crowd gasped, and alot left to go on with their work and not see the horrible sight.

The healer dragged Mark Hawk into the nearby inn and deposited him onto a bed, took some money from the stranger's saddlepack and paid the man. If nothing else could help him, sleep would. And so Mark slept...