Garrick placed his axe beside him, collecting Sara in his arms. She had been cut in two places, her arm and her stomach. Her breath was shallow, and her eyes closed to the world. Nip reached into her rucksack and retrieved a vial containing a thick red liquid, passing it to Garrick.
“Thanks, Nip.” Removing the vial’s cork, he placed the rim to Sara’s lips and poured the liquid into her mouth. It crawled out of the glass and made its way through her throat, each millimetre easier than the last as it pulled itself out of the vial.
Sara’s eyes flickered with life. Her hand tensed and reached for her stomach wound. She groaned, “What the hell happened?”
“You blacked out, that guy over there got you real bad.” Garrick pointed to the deceased assassin, head to toe in black garbs. Their own blood was slowly pooling around them.
The wound closed slightly under the effects of the potion, her fingers caressing the sensitive exposed flesh. “Sorry about that. There go the profits from the quest.” She looked at the vial still in Garrick’s hand.
“Nonsense, as long as we’re all fit and healthy and can fight another day, that’s all that matters,” responded Nip. “We’re not the richest people but breaking even is better than nothing.”
“Right, we better get you to a hospital. That potion brought you back from the brink, but your wounds still need seeing to.” Garrick hauled her up, holding her in one arm as he collected his axe and placed it on his back.
“Thanks, guys.” Sara curled her mouth into a reluctant smile, before closing her eyes and resting.
Today's prompt: richest people
This week's worldbuilding prompt: sickness and recovery
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