CASS

As you got closer, your realised the sun was reflecting on a suit of armour- it was a knight- and from the amount of blood that splattered his armour, you didn’t think he looked too healthy… probably why he had collapsed in the middle of a field of flowers. Upon realising what lay before you, you picked up the pace, rushing towards the man, eager to help in whatever way you could- even if it was just to hold his hand as he passed, which you feared was the most likely case.

As you hastily came to a stop and collapsed down onto your knees beside him, he startled, attempting to sit up.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You tried to sooth placatingly, your hands moving across his breast plate, trying to get him to relax again, “don’t move, it’s okay, I’m here to help.”

He tried to fight you a little, reluctant to lie back down so you could assess his injuries and see if you could help, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you in confusion.

“I live just over that hill.” You pointed behind him. “I was just on my way back from the market when I noticed you-“ He groaned slightly. “It’s okay, just relax, I’m here to help.” You said again.

“What are you talking about?” He said confused. His voice was slightly gruff, but sounded tinny through his helmet. Your fingers instantly reached to help pull it off. “No!” He cried out, sitting upright, his hands reaching to hold the helmet in place. “Don’t take it off.” He said.

“But I need to see your injuries.” You protested.

“Injuries?” His voice came back confused.

“Yes, injuries. You’re covered in blood. I’m surprised you are alive and moving at all, given the amount of blood on your armour.”

He looked down at himself then. His breast plate sagged as he sighed, his hand relaxing at his side.”You should see the other guys.” He mumbled, then paused. When you looked to him, begging him to elaborate, he said, “It’s not mine,” relaxing his body and leaning back on one hand. “Well most of it isn’t anyway.” He said, lifting his right leg and bending his knee, sneering slightly with the effort, before relaxing again.

“But I thought you were dying.” You said. “You’re lying in the middle of a field covered in blood.”

He sighed. “I was just resting.”

“Just resting.” You repeated, a look of reluctant astonishment on your face.

“Yes, resting.” He affirmed.

“Your leg?” You queried, putting the pieces together.

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

You frowned. He was being difficult. “So, where did all the other blood come from?” You asked.

“Bandits.”

“Bandits?”

“Yes, bandits? Look am I going to have to repeat everything I say to you?”

“Fine!” You snapped, “I was only trying to help. You know do my civic duty or something as a member of the realm.” You said, getting up and dusting off your hands and knees. He sat forward, following you with his gaze, or at least you thought he was behind that visor.

You huffed loudly at his silence before turning your back on him, ready to stride back through the flowers to the road and pick up your basket of goods- but the thought of his injured leg made you pause. You huffed again, loudly as you turned back to him. Marching towards him, you held out your hand to him.

“Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

“Come on,” you said again. “You need someone to look at that leg before it becomes infected and resting at my cottage will be a lot more comfortable than this field.” When he continued to hesitate, you said, “I’m not taking no for an answer Sir…?”

“Djarin.” He filled in. “Din Djarin.”

“Well then, Sir Din Djarin, are you going to take the help of this lowly peasant or not?”

Reluctantly he took your hand and allowed you to help pull him from the ground. He was reluctant to place weight on his right leg, so you wrapped an arm around his back and hooked his arm over your shoulders, encouraging him to lean on you to help him walk.

“It’s just over that hill, by that tree.” You informed him as you both began to cut across the field to where your small cottage lay.

He admired the flowers growing in your front garden, a well worn wooden fence with bits of it missing, the only defining factor between your property and the rest of the meadow. “How did you end up here anyway.” You asked him as you heaved him through the door. The two of you hobbled towards the fire place on the far side of the tiny thatched roof house.

“I walked.” He groaned as he sat himself down on a chair, stretching out his injured leg. You immediately fell to your knees before him, your fingers reaching to free his leg from its coverings. He sneered as you pried the blood covered armour from his soaked through undergarments. There was a large slash in both his trousers and leg. It was a miracle he had gotten anywhere. You gently slid the pant leg up above his knee to get a better look at the wound. Luckily it was all tissue damage, but boy was it bleeding.

“I think I’ve got some scraps of cloth to use as bandages-“ you began to half mutter to yourself and half explain to your new house guest, as you got up off the floor and moved towards a cabinet, opening up one of the doors and pulling out a basket of fabric.

You brought it back over to the fire place before moving into the adjacent room to grab some other supplies; a basin of water, a needle and thread, a pestle and mortar and a collection of flowers and herb from your garden. He watched you closely as you grabbed one of the pieces of cloth and began to clean the blood from around the wound. He would sneer every now and again when you pushed a little too hard at the skin and muscle around the wound, but mostly remained quiet.

When you had done that, you readied the needle and thread. Once again he grunted against the pain as you pierced his flesh with the needle, pulling the thread tight and holding the wound closed. Then you began to grab at different leaves and flowers, mashing them together until they formed a paste. Although he recognised some of the flowers you used by sight, he had no idea what half of them were called, or what healing properties they might have.

When you began to smear the paste over the stitches, he expected it to sting, but instead, they left a cooling sensation on his skin. As you began to wrap the leg, he relaxed, the concoction of medicinal herbs working their magic. When you tied off the bandage and shuffled back, collecting your items from the floor and placing them in your lap, he was suddenly so quiet- so still- you thought he might have fallen asleep.

As you looked at his helmet, the shade of his visor, your fingers itched. You had heard about these specific guard before, they never took their helmets off, never showed anyone their face. You didn’t want to take the helmet off, but you longed to lift the visor. You just wanted to see his eyes. You turned and placed the items in your hands on the nearby table before turning back to him. You watched a moment longer. Checked the steady rhythm of his breathing, Slowly you built up the confidence to reach for him, your fingers ghosting at the metal covering his eyes.

“Weren’t you coming back from the market?” He suddenly said and you jumped back, but his statement had your eyes growing wide.

“Oh crap- my basket.” You grumbled and raced from the house. But when you returned he was gone.