“Why aren’t you helping?” There was a bit of whine in his voice as the itching started to reach mind-numbing levels. “We need to do something,” he pleaded.
“We? Oh, no… this is not a ‘we’ thing. You seem to believe that there is some magic of my people that can solve this for you, but there is no… what did you call it?
“Ah yes, elven magic. That is what you called it. There is no elven magic that will solve this for you.”
Kre started to press the palm of one hand against the back of the other, hoping that the pressure would relieve some of the itching.
The tear that rolled slowly down his cheek was a clear indication that his tactic was not working as well as he hoped. He pressed his lips together tightly, hoping to hold back any less than manly sounds that the pain might elicit.
“Water please,” he spat out quickly.
“Water will not work,” Kitalia advised. “In fact, water will reactivate the sap and cause a massive flare-up as well as spreading the plant extract to any other part of your body that the water touches. So, I would suggest you do not use water, but I can still get it for you if you wish. Maybe that sort of human magic will work for you where my elf magic has failed.”
“Sorry!” he spat out again. “Sorry for the elf slur… again. I am trying to watch myself, but the pain is making it really hard to focus on manners at the moment!”
“I can see that withstanding torture is something that you have no skill in. I suppose we should be grateful that the Rangers have not picked you up yet. You would sing like a bardbird.”
The reference to the crooning avian made Kre think about Jem. When she was younger, she was often compared to the little pale green bird that often whistled and warbled beautiful music throughout the day. It was often said that to hear a single bardbird sing brought one luck that would last the day and if one were lucky enough to hear two singing a duet, they would be blessed for life.
However, there was a flip side to that saying of good fortune. It was also said that if you heard a quartet of bardbirds, it was because they were singing your funeral dirge and you would be dead within the week.
“Good!” Kitalia said with a smile. “Thinking of something else besides the pain will help you to ignore it and push past it.”
She moved away from him then, over to where she had set her bag. Kre took several deep breaths and tried to focus on pleasant memories to ward off the need to scratch at his hands.
“Wait here,” Kitalia commanded once she had plucked a small, shimmering piece of cloth from her bag. She headed out through the trees, much too slowly for Kre’s comfort, but at least she appeared to be doing something to help the situation.
While she was gone gathering whatever herbs and magical plants she needed to make a salve, Kre tried to focus on picturing what his friends back home were doing now.