Wildheart: Shattering the Warlord’s Silent Vow

The ceremony noise fades behind Tenda as he crosses the square. Daisy is near the fountain, sorting bandages and vials into neat bundles. Her eyes lift at once to his bandaged arm.

Tenda eases onto the fountain edge, keeping the injured arm close. Daisy sets her satchel down and takes his wrist with careful hands, her focus sharpening as she examines the numbness.

Daisy unwraps the bandage, checks the skin, then reaches for a small cloth pouch of herbs. She works in calm, practiced motions, her thumb brushing the pulse point before she presses a cooling paste along the seam of the wound.

The ache does not vanish, but the numbness loosens a little under her touch. Around them, villagers continue their soft conversations, and the fountain water keeps its steady hush. Daisy looks up once, gentler now, as if weighing whether to say more.

Daisy keeps her fingers on the pulse point a moment longer, then eases the sleeve back with care. Her brows knit, not in alarm, but in concentration.

She presses a fresh layer of cooling paste along the sore line, and the numb heaviness starts to drain into a dull ache. The fountain water murmurs beside them, steady as her hands.

Daisy ties the bandage off with a small, satisfied nod, then looks up at him with a gentler expression. The festival noise stays soft around the square, and the distant horn is only memory now.

Her mouth quirks with relief as she finishes the knot, and the joke comes easy now. The paste has taken the edge off the strain, though the arm still feels tender under the wrap.

Tenda lets the arm rest while the square breathes around them. Nearby, villagers trade quiet thanks beneath hanging ribbons, and the far-off horn is only a dull memory beneath the fountain's murmur.

She lifts her gaze from the bandage to his face, gentler now, and the last of the stiffness leaves her shoulders. The wrap sits neat and secure, but the deeper ache in his arm still answers when he flexes it.

Tenda leans in, and the kiss lands light on Daisy’s cheek. For a heartbeat, her fingers still on the bandage roll. Then her breath catches, and her face warms with a startled smile.

She tilts her head aside, trying and failing to hide the pleased flush in her expression. The fountain keeps murmuring beside them, and the festival noise stays soft enough to leave room for her laugh.

Daisy presses two fingers gently along the wrap, then studies Tenda’s hand as he flexes it. The ache is still there, but the numbness has thinned to a stubborn soreness.

She eases back with a small nod, holding his gaze a moment longer before glancing toward the square. Villagers drift past ribbons and tables in easy conversation, while the distant horn remains only a faint memory under the water’s hush.

Tenda lowers his bandaged arm and lets Daisy take it back into her hands. She steadies his wrist, then smooths the wrap with practiced care, her focus returning as the square hums softly behind them.

Her thumbs test the pressure point, and she gives a small, satisfied nod. The ache in his hand settles into something manageable, no longer sharp with every flex.

Daisy reaches for a fresh strip of cloth, her cheeks still faintly warm. In the background, villagers drift between tables, and the distant horn remains only a memory beneath the fountain’s murmur.

She ties off the last knot and lets his hand rest on his lap again. The fingers answer more cleanly now, the numbness gone enough for strength to return.