Renaud had left his friend's house before dawn to go back to the village where his master Charlot had already lit the forge. Even before he talked, the old master had seen his face and concluded he would not work much today either.
They convened on a lie and agreed that Renaud would be doing deliveries.
It wasn't just a lie. His friend would need more bandages, so he brought rags back with him along with another bucket to pick water at the stream.
Up and near the forest the sawmill looked dormant. Its water wheel creaked quietly, running free. The blade would only be used by noon, as the woodcutters gathered wood.
He plunged the bucket and waited for it to be filled. It was so lucky that the water was so clear.
With morning had come a slight drizzle that would not last.
But once he had crossed the hamlet, Renaud saw Maud at his friend's door, calling to be left inside. She seemed worried, saw him approach and gestured.
"Have you seen Brenin?" She asked. "I told him I would come!"
The farm girl had brought bread, flour, eggs and lettuce among other things she carried in her basket. He just smiled at her and knocked in turn.
"Brenin, it's me!"
He tried to push but the wooden lock was in place. What was happening? He could not imagine his friend getting up from bed, not as grievously wounded as he was, just to lock himself in.
Luckily, Brenin had heard him. They heard steps, a body slamming against the wood and then the lock opened.
He crumbled at their side and both of them rushed to pick him up.
Maud held back a scream when she saw his arm.
She was lucky, and Brenin could not believe his eyes: the old drenched bandages were gone, but all those gashes had dried up and turned to horrid scars. Only his side, a bit under the shoulder, still bled.
"This can't be happening!" She begged.
Brenin himself was feverish. They laid him back in his bed, more of a long box of hay than anything else, and she tore the rags in a hurry.
But Renaud was looking at the room itself. What little furniture there was had been thrown around in a storm and the axe, the mighty axe of the woodcutter, was stuck in the wall.
His friend could not possibly have that much strength in him to cut into stone...
"Stay with us, Brenin!" She pleaded after finishing his bandage.
With the last rag she brought water to his forefront and pressed. He seemed to calm, opened his eyes and smiled at her.
"Thanks, Maud. You are a lifesaver."
"Shut up!" She blushed. "Tell us what happened already!"
"I don't know... I don't... I don't know."
"What is all this!?" She had just discovered the pile of old bandages torn around on the dirty floor. "Where did you find that tissue!? Don't tell me!"
She rushed to the chest that had been thrown open at the other side of the room and saw it empty.
"All your clothes!" Her hands covered her face. "Not a single remains!"
"It's not infected." Renaud observed.
He was no doctor, he in fact knew almost nothing other than the wound didn't smell and the arm, somehow, had healed that much in but an hour.
Both men looked at each other. They knew Brenin should have died.
"Please, Brenin!" She came back to him, held his hand and caressed his short brown hair. "Talk to me, tell me what happened!"
Her eyes were tearing up.
But he truly didn't know what to tell her. The woodcutter didn't understand it himself.
"When you left," he turned to Renaud, "I started to get... angry. Like a red veil. Like I was losing my mind."
"The pain made you delirious, that's all."
"Renaud!" He shot back.
His friend had been there the whole night, while he struggled with his wounds, fighting just to stay conscious. This anger at dawn, that was something else. And he didn't want to believe it but his sick mind could only keep seeing the creature he had met in the castle.
"Renaud, where is that hunter? The traveling one?"
"Grisval? He left the village yesterday. He is probably gone by now..."
"We need him back!" Brenin cut him, so frantic that his wound made him reel. "Find him and tell him what happened. Tell him everything."
"Everything?" Renaud's fear flared in his voice.
But his friend met him with stern eyes: "Everything."
He fell back on his bed, panting. The exhaustion was just crushing, beyond many points he had reached in the past. Like lead weighing on his very soul.
He begged them to let him rest and they closed the door behind. Maud hugged Renaud, still shocked by what she had seen. She was used to cattle being cut and still, her body would not stop shaking.
"Why? Why won't he tell me anything?"
"There, there. It's Brenin, you know he cares for you."
"Yes, I know... Like a sister."
"Come on, now. Here," he handed her money for the supplies, "he can reimburse me later. Let's find that hunter and when he tells him, I will make sure you can stay."
"Promise me!" She insisted.
"It's a promise."
She let him go and realized how serene he looked now. And not bad-looking. Renaud was maturing into a fine man, if still a bit meek. With him, Brenin was in good hands.
The apprentice, for his part, could not help but feel relieved now that his friend's life seemed saved. A night of anguish was washing over, bringing a fatigue he could not afford: his master was waiting at the forge.
Who cared if that healing was a miracle? The saintess be blessed.
But before the could go they saw two guards approach, coming for their friend.
"Hello, Renaud." One guard greeted.
The other had already passed them to open the door and look inside. To stop them would have been impossible regardless. All Renaud could do was look natural.
"Good morning, sir." He greeted back.
"What brings you here? On delivery?"
He didn't know what to say to that, because he had nothing on him. It was Maud who chimed in.
"Brenin damaged his axe. He came to take a look at it."
"Damaged his axe... That's bad, I hope you can fix it quickly for him."
The other guard came back, having seen the woodcutter's wounds.
"It's not him."
And the first, to both friends: "There is a killer running free. He is wounded so if you see him, stay away and alert us. See you at the fair, Roland!"
"See you sir."
He watched his childhood friend, now a men-at-arms, walk back through the hamlet. Pigs and chicken causing a ruckus at their passage.
Then, his thoughts swung back in an instant and he froze. A new fear has taken hold in his chest, once he had realized how the guards had shrugged off his friend's wounds. They should have suspected him, at least.
Brenin had told him the castle dogs had mauled him.
"Roland? Roland, are you alright?"
He turned to her, shook himself out of the dread and smiled. He, too, wanted to keep her out of their plot to kill a lord.