The sun's rays trickled through the lush wet trees, warming the land and cooling the flowers. Warm air drifted through with the scent of dirt and the vitality of the plants was ever more present in the environment. This being supplemented by a quiet energy permeating through making the whole forest seem alive.
In this moment of tranquility, there was a scene that contrasted sharply with the atmosphere. From afar it could be seen that there was an old man sitting by his buttocks holding his head in disbelief to the shocking panorama before him. Strangely next to the old man was a brown pony, with its head down.
The old man was precisely Old man John and right now he was confused, or more accurately speaking he was shocked by what he was seeing. Before him, in the small crater caused by the lightning strike before...was a body of a person.
Now if it was just a body, perhaps the old man wouldn't be so stupefied, no, he would have merely been slightly amazed, afterall in his advanced age what had he not seen?
But in this case, his emotions flared up making him act in such an embarrassing manner. What he was looking at, well perhaps this would be a first. In front of him, it wasn't just a body. It was a bleeding body, the body was laying in its own pool of blood murky, and stomach-turning.
It was a boy. From what Old man John could observe it was teenage boy, with smooth black hair and a slender figure. From the brief observation he made before he slumped down on the ground, the boy looked to be no older than eighteen, if anything he looked younger. And that wasn't even the most shocking part....
"Are you seeing this rusty or am I just hallucinating...Hallucinating my ass!, this is definitely real, right? Silver Blood? Infront of me what is...who is...how did...?!"
The old man was afraid, he was normally steadfast and not easily fazed but this time, he couldn't keep himself calm no matter how hard he tried. His thoughts raced trying to find the answers to the questions he asked, but to no avail, difficult to grasp.
And so he got up and straightened his clothes and took hold of the pony's reins. Before him lay a boy whose very lifeblood ran like liquid starlight. Having spent his life in a humble town governed by myth and misconception, the old man found his mind reeling.
'The Human body bleeds red, not silver. If it is not red then it must be an abomination, right?' John thought as he slowly stepped back trying to distance himself and rusty away from the crater.
It couldn't be helped, a body that bleeds silver? That was definitely trouble waiting to happen. Unfortunately, his rustic mind couldn't grasp the simple truth that with every passing second, the boy grew paler, and every moment spent staring was a moment closer to a corpse on his hands.
But what could he do. He was merely a fish-farmer that had gone out to seek an opportunity to better his life, now troubles come knocking? surely what could he do?
Old man John was fighting with his Fear and his human desire to help someone in trouble. Sure he was crude and simple but before him was boy that looked human and was dying, wasn't it in the hearts of humans to help those in need? not because he has to but because it's the right thing to do. At least beneath the surface, this act of saving others would be his way of maintaining a subtle, self-reassuring sense of moral integrity, though he didn't know that!
He remembered he was once advised by his late Grandmother that he should do as he will but do no harm. But as he stared at the glowing, silver pool widening on the dirt, he wondered: to whom would the harm belong? If he walked away, he harmed the boy. If he stayed, he might bring a silver-blooded curse down upon his own kin.
His hands shook, suspended in the cold air, caught between a prayer for mercy and the instinct to run.
"Ah Fuck!"
Old man John wasted no time, he dropped rusty's reins and ran towards the crater. He almost slipped on the mud but he steadied his body at the right time. Right now he was looking in the crater, face to face with the bleeding boy.
He hesitated a little, before he stepped into the pool of iridescent silver blood. The blood before his feet felt strange, less like a liquid and more like treading upon heavy, molten lead. He was even more curious of the boy now, he decided that after helping him, he must find out his origins.
Right now though, he must save him or at least try to. He reached out his hands towards the boy's chest, then paused just short of touching him. The silver blood gave off a faint warmth. John frowned, he knew this kind of situation wasn't normal. Afterall, he had seen men bleed out on roads and in fields, he had also seen wounds that no healer could mend—but never anything like this.
"He's still breathing…" he muttered, leaning closer.
The boy's chest rose in a shallow and uneven manner but that was a good sign.
John then tore a strip from the inner lining of his coat and pressed it gently against one of the deeper wounds. The cloth darkened, but not in the way he expected because the silver blood seeped into it slowly, almost reluctantly, as though it had weight to it. He clicked his tongue in resignation.
"This won't hold for long."
He glanced around the crater. Fortunately, the rain had softened the earth, exposing roots and stones that would normally stay buried. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar shape protruding from the muddy wall: it was a thick, twisted root, pale and forked like a crude imitation of a human form.
"Mandrake…you lucky devil."
The mandrake root is one of the most storied and biologically unique plants in the world, belonging to the nightshade family along with potatoes and tomatoes.
In Legends it was believed that various supernatural powers like Magical abled individuals, believed it would allow them to transcend the physical realm, but now old John will use it to save the poor boy.
Carefully, he climbed toward it, boots sinking slightly with each step. With his trembling hands, he dug around it, his hands rather than pulling outright, mindful not to damage the root, he struggled a little bit but with some little bit of elbow-grease it came free with a wet snap, smaller than he would have liked, but fresh.
John then hurriedly returned to the boy and wiped the mud off the root against his sleeve. He hesitated for only a moment before bringing it to his mouth, biting down and chewing until the bitter juice filled his tongue. He grimaced but kept going, grinding it into a pulp.
"Don't die on me now, kid."
He quickly spat the paste into his palm and pressed it onto the worst of the wounds he could see. Safe to say the effect was not immediate, but it was there. The bleeding slowed, just enough to notice. He worked diligently, breaking the rest of the root apart and applying it where he could, binding it in place with strips of cloth.
He could feel the boy stirring faintly with a weak twitch of his fingers, that was a good sign!
"Good," John said under his breath. "Don't give up on me now boy!"
He carefully slid one arm beneath the boy's shoulders, testing his weight. He found that he was lighter than expected. Too light for someone of his age. With some effort though, he lifted him out of the pool of silver blood and onto the firmer edge of the crater.
While all this was happening, Rusty snorted nervously somewhere behind him.
"Yeah, I know," John called back. "This wasn't part of the plan."
He looked down at the boy again. Up close, the strangeness was even clearer: not just the blood, but the stillness of his features, as if he didn't quite blend in to the world around him.
John exhaled slowly.
"Questions to be asked later, right now I have to focus in trying to keep him alive."
He adjusted his grip, then carried the boy up and out of the crater, each step careful but urgent. The rains had passed, but the road ahead was still long, and Misty Lake Town was the only place within reach that might keep this boy breathing through the night.
He placed the boy on top of Rusty after removing his goods and since the boy wasn't that heavy, Rusty didn't face any challenges and could carry the boy easily. Noon had just passed and the day was almost over; Old John had to act fast and reach town to see if he could salvage the situation.