Chapter 6 Injured man

The evening sky was fading into dusk as Zazriel walked back toward the orphanage, her steps tired but her spirits high. Just as she turned a corner, she spotted a figure slumped against the wall of an alley, his clothes darkened with blood.

Alarmed, she rushed over, crouching beside him and gently shaking his shoulder.

"Hey-can you hear me? Are you okay?" she whispered urgently, her voice barely more than a breath in the quiet street. The young man didn't respond, his face pale and bruised. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Zazriel!"

She turned to see Alden, her friend from the orphanage, skidding to a stop beside her. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. "What happened? Who is he?"

"I don't know," Zazriel replied, biting her lip as she shook the young man's shoulder again. "I just found him like this. Alden, he's hurt bad."

Alden peered closer, noticing the insignia on the young man's tattered sleeve. "Look at his clothes, Zaz... He's probably a noble. Or a knight, maybe?"

"Whatever he is, he's still bleeding." Zazriel pressed a piece of her cloak to the wound on his shoulder. "We can't leave him here, Alden. He'll die."

Alden glanced around nervously, then nodded. "You're right. Let's bring him to the orphanage. The sisters will know what to do."

With a determined breath, Zazriel and Alden hoisted the young man's arms over their shoulders, grunting with the effort as they dragged him through the streets toward the orphanage. His weight was almost too much for them, but they pushed on, step by step.

"He's heavy," Alden muttered, adjusting his grip.

"Just a little further," Zazriel urged, breathing heavily. "Hang on... whoever you are. We're almost there."

Finally, they reached the gates of the orphanage, and Zazriel called out, "Sister Margarete! Help, please!"

The heavy wooden door swung open, and Sister Margarete appeared, her expression shifting from surprise to shock as she took in the sight of the bloodied young man.

"Oh my goodness," she gasped, rushing over. "What happened?"

"We... found him like this," Zazriel explained, her voice shaky. "He was bleeding, Sister, and we couldn't just leave him."

"Quickly now, bring him inside," Sister Margarete instructed, taking the young man's other arm to help them lift him into the warmth of the orphanage.

As they laid him down on one of the cots, Sister Margarete gathered bandages and clean water. She glanced at Zazriel and Alden, her eyes filled with a mixture of worry and admiration. "You two did a brave thing bringing him here."

Alden exchanged a glance with Zazriel, breathing hard but relieved. "Do you think he'll be alright, Sister?"

Sister Margarete carefully began to clean the young man's wounds. "With some rest and care, I hope so. But..." She glanced at the insignia on his sleeve, a faint frown creasing her forehead. "You're right, Alden. He seems to be of noble birth. This could be... complicated."

Zazriel leaned closer, curiosity sparking in her tired eyes. "Complicated? Why, Sister?"

Sister Margarete looked at the two of them, lowering her voice. "Because if he's truly a noble, his family will come looking for him. And if they find he's been here... things could change."

Alden crossed his arms, puzzled. "Change? What do you mean?"

The sister gave them a gentle but serious look. "Let's just say, nobles don't often mingle with those like us. But," she added, her expression softening as she laid a comforting hand on Zazriel's shoulder, "that doesn't mean we'll turn him away. You did the right thing tonight, both of you."

Zazriel watched the young man's chest rise and fall, her heart pounding with questions. Whoever he was, whatever his story... she couldn't shake the feeling that her life had just changed too.

..

Three days had passed since Zazriel and Alden had brought the injured young man to the orphanage. Zazriel spent most of her time by his side, nursing him back to health out of a mixture of curiosity and concern. She had yet to learn his name or the story behind his injury, and every time she caught a glimpse of him, her heart raced.

"Do you think he'll wake up today?" Zazriel asked softly, adjusting the damp cloth on his forehead as she sat beside his bed. His black hair glistened in the dim light, and she couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked, even in his unconscious state.

"I hope so," Alden replied, peering over her shoulder. "You've been taking care of him like a mother hen, Zaz. Are you sure it's just curiosity?"

Zazriel shrugged, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Well, maybe. But I want to know who he is! He's not just some random guy; he has to have a story, a family... something."

Just then, the door creaked open, and Ciel, the youngest of the orphans at only two years old, peeked in with big, round eyes. "Zazriel, can I see the sleeping man?" he asked in a small voice, his finger pointing toward the bed.

Zazriel smiled at him. "You have to be quiet, Ciel. He's hurt, remember?"

Ciel tiptoed inside, his curiosity shining through his innocent demeanor. He approached the bed and gently poked the young man's arm. "Wake up!" he declared, giggling softly. "I wanna play!"

"Ciel!" Zazriel exclaimed, stifling a laugh. "You can't just poke him like that! What if it hurts?"

Alden chuckled, shaking his head. "You're going to scare him awake, Ciel. He might think he's in a battle with tiny warriors."

"Or he might think he's been captured by little monsters," Zazriel added, grinning at Ciel. "We don't want him to run away, do we?"

Ciel pouted, crossing his arms. "But I want to be friends with him! Friends wake up and play!"

Zazriel reached out to ruffle Ciel's hair affectionately. "I know, little one. But we have to let him rest for now. We don't even know his name yet."

"Maybe he'll tell us when he wakes up," Alden suggested, watching the young man's peaceful face. "I hope he remembers us. I mean, how could he forget two heroes who rescued him?"

"Heroes, huh?" Zazriel laughed lightly. "I'm not sure that's how it works, Alden. We just did what anyone would do."

"Maybe, but it was you who insisted on bringing him here," Alden pointed out. "You're the real hero."

Zazriel shrugged, her gaze returning to the young man's face. "I just want to make sure he's okay. What if he has no one? What if he's lost? He could be from far away."

Ciel tugged at Zazriel's sleeve, his eyes wide. "Do you think he has a princess? Or a castle?"

"I don't know," Zazriel replied thoughtfully, glancing back at Alden. "He might be a knight. Maybe he was on a quest, and something went wrong."

Alden rolled his eyes playfully. "Or maybe he just got lost and fell. It happens, you know."

Ciel giggled, still poking the young man gently. "I bet he's a real hero! When he wakes up, he'll tell us stories of battles and dragons!"

Zazriel smiled at the thought, her imagination racing. "Or maybe he'll tell us about his family and where he came from. I hope we can help him get home."

"Yeah!" Ciel agreed, nodding vigorously. "And I can be his squire!"

The door swung open again, and Sister Margarete walked in, a warm smile on her face. "What's this commotion about?" she asked, her eyes dancing between the children.

"Ciel wants to wake the sleeping man!" Zazriel said with a grin.

Sister Margarete chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I appreciate your curiosity, Ciel, but the young man needs his rest. You all have done so well caring for him. Let's give him a bit more time."

"Can we stay just a little longer?" Zazriel pleaded. "I want to be here when he wakes up."

"Very well, but keep your voices down," Sister Margarete replied, her expression softening. "He'll need friends when he wakes up. You all can be that for him."

Alden grinned at Zazriel. "See? Even Sister Margarete thinks we're heroes."

Zazriel rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled with hope. "I just want him to be okay. And when he wakes up, I want to be the first to hear his story."

"Me too!" Ciel exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. "We'll be the best friends ever!"

As the three of them settled in, the room filled with their soft whispers and laughter, Zazriel couldn't shake the feeling that this young man was destined to become a significant part of their lives, one way or another. She just had to wait for him to wake up.