Elim barely managed to stay conscious through the pain of the sword stabbing into his shoulder, but through his blurry vision he watched as an arrow flew through the air, felling the second mercenary with a well-placed shot to the knee. He roared in pain, dropping his sword and clutching his wound, his eyes darting all around for his attacker.
A huge, orange blur darted out from the trees, a spear flashing in the light from the obelisk, and Elim heard a humming in the air as the weapon’s shaft swung with blinding speed, slamming into the first mercenary with a loud crack and sending him flying through the air. Elim squinted his eyes, and standing before him was a tall, broadly muscled man, wearing little more than a loincloth and a few pieces of leather armor around his chest and shoulders.
However, it was clear that this was no ordinary man, even beyond his impressive physique; thick orange fur streaked with stripes of black covered his entire body, he had enormous paws in place of hands and feet, and his head was that of a massive feline. A tiger’s head, to be more specific.
Elim knew of the beastmen who lived throughout the world, but they were rarely seen outside their ancestral lands in the remote wildernesses, and those that chose to live in more populated areas were often treated with suspicion and disdain. Naturally, they were almost nonexistent in the Royal Capitol, so Elim had only ever read about them in his studies, and even then only in passing.
The beastman glanced at the two mercenaries, one clutching his chest where the spear’s shaft had struck him and the other whimpering and trying to extract the arrow from his leg. He snorted once, glancing back between them and Prince Elim. “You are all trespassing on a sacred place,” he said quietly, a slight and exotic accent and a deep purr in his voice. “I would prefer no more bloodshed occur at this place, but if you do not leave immediately I will not hesitate.”
The two mercenaries looked at their weapons, which had fallen to the ground at the tiger’s bare feet, and knew they would have no chance against him without them. Growling in anger, they looked back at Elim where he lay next to the obelisk. “Forget the brat, he’ll bleed out in no time,” Elim heard one of them say, and he felt the blood flowing freely from his wounded shoulder as if in response. The first mercenary pulled his companion to his feet, then they limped off into the woods to try to reunite with the rest of their group.
Satisfied, the tiger kneeled down next to Elim, looking over the prince’s wounds with concern in his yellow eyes. The prince’s eyelids began to drift down and his head went slack as more of his life’s blood drained from the cuts and slashes covering him. He could feel a cold chill grip his body as he drew a few small, ragged breaths while the tiger watched on with worry.
“Damn it, they really did a number on him… I’d rather not move him in this state, but if I don’t…” he muttered in his smooth, deep voice, which Elim could barely make out thanks to the pounding of blood in his ears. “I suppose I could try… No, the elders wouldn’t approve of it. But, I can’t let him bleed to death… I’m sure they’ll understand.”
Nodding to himself, the tiger took a deep breath and pressed his paw against the deep wound on Elim’s shoulder, soaking the prince’s blood into his orange fur. Without wasting a moment, he solemnly spoke a few words in some language Elim had never heard before, then the tiger pressed his blood-soaked paw against the runes on the stone obelisk, making the etched stone glow in a bright red light. Streaks of pure magical energy burst forth from the stone pillar, warping in the air and wrapping themselves around Elim’s injured body. The prince felt a pleasant warmth overtake him as the energy slipped into the numerous cuts and slashes across his body, and he let out a shuddering gasp as he felt the energy flowing through his bloodstream, stemming the bleeding from his wounds and accelerating the healing process; the small cuts across his chest knit themselves together, leaving little more than a few thin scars in their place, while his deeper wounds began to scab over until the bleeding finally stopped. The prince took a huge, gasping breath and his eyelids fluttered open weakly as he finally found the strength to fill his lungs again after coming so close to death.
“W-what did you…” Elim managed to grunt, barely managing to stay conscious. He looked up and saw the tall tiger looking down at him with a mix of concern and amusement on his beastly face, sharp teeth peeking out from his lip as it curled into a small smile.
“You’ll live. At least, I hope so,” he said quietly. “But, not if you remain here. Those men will return to confirm your death before long, with reinforcements. Come on, let’s get moving.”
Before Elim could even protest, the tiger gently lifted him up and slung the prince over his massive, furry shoulders, taking care not to reopen the young man’s wounds again. He gathered up his spear and bow, then he took off with incredible speed, ducking and dodging though the trees into the dark wilderness. Elim could only guess at their destination, and he soon passed out from pure exhaustion at his ordeal, pressing his face into the warm fur of his savior as darkness overtook his senses…