I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Matilda froze, her eyes fixed on the lifeless form of Zafron lying in a pool of blood. Her lips parted in shock, unable to process the scene before her. Thoughts raced through her mind: 'This can't be Zafron. He's not supposed to be lying there, so still, so... lifeless.'

Suddenly, Mara's voice cut through the air, shattering the eerie silence. "No! Zafron?" she called out, her tone laced with panic as she approached and saw him on the ground.

Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees, grabbing him and pulling him up, shaking him desperately. "Wake up, Zafron! Please, wake up!" Tears began to stream down Mara's face as she pleaded with his unresponsive form.

Matilda's internal turmoil continued as she began to walk closer, her movements slow and hesitant. 'He's not responding to Mara's calls. Oh God, please don't let him be dead.' The thought sent a chill through her body, and a single tear escaped, rolling down her cheek.

Kneeling beside Zafron, Matilda reached out with trembling hands. Her fingers traced a path from his hand to his damaged face, her touch gentle as if afraid he might shatter. Her voice quavered as she finally spoke, "Mara... what happened?"

Mara couldn't contain herself, her body wracked with sobs. Between gasps and tears, she managed to choke out, "G-Gustavo... he attacked us. He... he almost killed me too, but I..." Her words dissolved into more crying as the horror of the situation overwhelmed her once again.

Matilda's gaze shifted between Mara's distraught form and Zafron's motionless body, the gravity of the situation sinking in with each passing second.

She pressed her fingers against Zafron's neck, searching desperately for signs of life. Her heart sank as she detected only the faintest flutter of a pulse. 'This is bad, so very bad,' she thought, tears now falling freely down her face.

Despite her anguish, Matilda forced herself to focus. They needed to act, and quickly. She swallowed hard, pushing back her emotions, and turned to Mara. "We need to get him help. Now. Can you help me lift him?

We need to find a hospital or a clinic—anything."

Mara, her voice still choked with tears, managed to respond. "There's... there's a clinic. Not far from here, towards the riverside." She wiped her eyes with a shaking hand. "I pray they're still open."

Without wasting another moment, they positioned themselves on either side of Zafron. With a collective grunt of effort, they lifted him, each wrapping one of his arms around their shoulders. His body hung limp between them, a dead weight that seemed to grow heavier with each step.

As they began their desperate journey, Mara's body trembled, the terror of Gustavo's attack still fresh in her mind. She stumbled occasionally, her eyes wild with fear and concern.

Matilda, for her part, couldn't stop the tears that welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. But she pressed on, her jaw set with determination. "Come on, Zafron," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Hold on. Please, just hold on. Wake up...

please wake up."

As they emerged from the woods, the sound of laughter and clinking bottles reached their ears. Near the riverside, a group of men were gathered, some drinking and enjoying themselves. Their revelry came to an abrupt halt as Matilda's desperate cry pierced the air.

"Help! Please, we need help!" Matilda shouted, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Is there a physician here? A doctor? Even a pharmacist—anyone who can help!"

The men turned, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of Zafron's limp form draped between Matilda and Mara. Without hesitation, several rushed forward to assist.

"What happened?" one man asked, his brow furrowed with concern as he helped support Zafron's weight.

Matilda, thinking quickly, responded, "Robbers. They attacked him in the woods."

At the mention of robbers, two of the younger men immediately sprang into action. "We'll try to catch them!" they called out, disappearing into the trees.

The remaining men carefully lifted Zafron, relieving Matilda and Mara of his weight. They carried him swiftly to a nearby room—clearly not a clinic, but the closest shelter available. Inside, they hastily cleared a table and gently laid Zafron upon it.

An older man, his face etched with wrinkles of experience, pushed through the crowd. Without a word, he rushed outside, returning moments later with a handful of leaves. The room fell silent as he approached Zafron's prone form.

Cupping the leaves in his weathered hands, the old man closed his eyes and began to whisper, his lips moving in a silent incantation.

Finally, the old man's eyes opened. With great care, he placed the leaves on Zafron's wounds, his touch gentle yet purposeful. The leaves seemed to cling to the injuries, as if drawn by an unseen force.

The old man stepped back from Zafron, his eyes grave but not without a glimmer of hope. "These herbs will help stem the bleeding and start the healing process," he explained, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience. "But he needs proper medical attention. You must take him to the hospital in town."

Matilda's face fell at the mention of town. She shook her head vigorously, panic rising in her voice. "No, we can't go to town. It's not an option. Isn't there someone here in the village who can help?"

The men exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves. Finally, one spoke up, "Well, the doctor from our old clinic is still around. The hospital here closed months ago due to lack of funds, but he stayed in the village."

Another man added, with a hint of hesitation, "Thing is, it'll take some money to wake him at this hour and get him to work. He's... particular about his fees, especially for after-hours care."

Matilda's hand instinctively went to her pocket, feeling the wad of cash she had with her. "I'll pay whatever it takes," she said firmly, her eyes never leaving Zafron's still form. "As long as he can help Zafron, I'm ready to pay."

The old man nodded, seemingly satisfied with her determination. He turned to a younger man in the group. "Kojo, go fetch Dr. Mensah. Tell him it's an emergency."

Without a word, Kojo darted out of the room, his footsteps fading as he ran towards the doctor's house.

Matilda let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging slightly with relief that help was on the way. She moved closer to Zafron, her hand gently brushing his forehead. Mara stood nearby, her arms wrapped around herself, still visibly shaken.

The room fell into an uneasy silence as they waited for Kojo to return with the doctor. The old man kept a watchful eye on Zafron, occasionally adjusting the leaves on his wounds. The other villagers hovered nearby, ready to help but unsure what more they could do.