They stayed in Aine Valley for exactly one week, though to Vienny, it felt more like a month. Since being forced back into the carriage, she hadn’t been allowed to leave. Aside from basic needs—meals and restroom breaks—the carriage door remained tightly closed. McClart hadn’t called for her either, likely because she herself had used up considerable energy and needed rest. She tried to see it as a kind of forced vacation, but with the air constantly trembling and the ground seeming to cry out, it felt more like a silent torment.

Each day, the pain of lives lost and crushed in battle weighed heavily in the air. As the one who had led the merciless invaders here, Vienny longed to shut out these haunting sounds. Every night, the cries echoed in her ears, keeping her from sleep, no matter how much she tried to block them out.

In the end, though no one had physically harmed her, it had been a tiring and painful week for Vienny. So, when the transport carriage began moving again, she felt a sense of relief. Any change was better than being confined without understanding why.

But her relief was brief. She’d assumed they would head straight to the Teike Plains, but suddenly, the carriage came to a stop. Hearing the commotion outside, Vienny’s eyes widened as the carriage door swung open, and without a word, a soldier pulled her out.

It took her a moment to realize why they had stopped—the path ahead was blocked. A large tree had fallen across the road, and rocks that seemed to have tumbled down from above were piled on top. While the horses might manage to weave through the gaps, the carriage itself wouldn’t be able to pass.

It appeared that McClart had decided to abandon the carriage rather than spend time and effort clearing the rocks and tree from the path. The supplies had already been unloaded, and workers and soldiers were dividing them up to carry. In the midst of the busy scene, Vienny stood uncertainly, unsure of what to do.

“Move out of the way!”

Someone shouted, and before she could react, they gave her a hard shove. Vienny stumbled, letting out a short cry as she fell, but no one spared her a glance. If anything, people seemed to deliberately avoid her, as if even touching her was something to avoid.

It was a familiar rejection, but somehow, it stung more this time—perhaps because, in recent weeks, someone had actually shown her care. Biting her lip, Vienny struggled to her feet.

If they were leaving the carriage behind, it meant she would have to walk as well. And since they wouldn’t risk the Great Witch traveling unguarded, it seemed she would likely end up staying close to McClart.

The thought of possibly seeing McClart again made her chest feel cold, while a flush of heat crept up her neck. But, as if to mock her anticipation, a soldier pointed to the far end of the group.

“Great Witch, stay back here!”

They’d put her at the back of the procession.

“Walk properly!”

Vienny looked down at the handcuffs and chains around her wrists and stifled a sigh. Her mind was spinning with a confusing mix of emotions she couldn’t quite grasp, leaving her feeling unsettled and tired.

Clamping her lips tightly, Vienny followed their orders. Soon, the group began moving over the rocks, the soldiers and workers leading from the front.

“Unlucky to be stuck dragging a witch along,”

Someone muttered sharply, the words piercing her ears. She hunched her shoulders and lowered her gaze. McClart had brought her here, but any hope she’d had for kindness from him now felt distant and fading.

…Kindness?

Her expression tightened at the word that had slipped into her thoughts—kindness. Was that really how she saw his actions? Kindness?

“Stop standing there like an idiot and get moving!”

Someone barked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She didn’t have time to think. Vienny started running again, and the group moved over the rocks faster than she expected, bringing her closer to the front.

Sharp, jagged pieces of wood scraped against her bare legs, but she couldn’t afford to pay attention to the stinging scratches. Pressured by the soldiers’ constant urging, Vienny tried to keep pace, but in her haste, she stepped wrong on a rock. Her right calf scraped roughly against the uneven surface, causing her to slip.

“Ugh!”

Blood began to seep from her legs, already marked with scratches from the branches. In her attempt to regain her balance, she had also twisted her ankle slightly, but there was no time to register the pain; the chain pulled her forward, forcing her to keep moving. The ache in her right leg caused her to stagger with each step, but no one spared her any sympathy.

Of all times to get injured, it had to happen right after Pepin left. Vienny bit down on her lip, pushing herself to endure the discomfort. She had survived far worse in the underground cell; a scraped leg and a twisted ankle were manageable by comparison.

The path beyond the rocks was little more than a rough mountain trail. Her loose, thin dress was ill-suited for such rugged terrain, leaving her skin exposed and vulnerable to more scratches. Her ankle throbbed and swelled with each forced step, but she pressed on, determined not to show weakness.

Given her situation, Vienny began to think that being at the very back might actually be preferable. If she were closer to McClart, he’d probably just complain about the nasty smell of blood again.

As her pace slowed, the soldiers brought the hunting dogs closer behind her, using them to both hurry her along and intimidate her. Afraid one of the dogs might bite her, Vienny quickened her steps.

It wasn’t until they stopped at a new campsite that Vienny fully realized the extent of her leg injury.

“Ugh…”

She ended up standing in a corner, glancing around and letting out a weary sigh. Her chains were fastened to the same tree where the hunting dogs were tied, and now they had caught the scent of her blood, eagerly sniffing around her.

She tried to move away, doing her best to avoid the dogs’ muzzles, but as their leashes were much longer than her chain, her efforts were in vain. Fortunately, the dogs didn’t seem inclined to bite her. They were just sensitive creatures, probably attracted by the smell of her blood.

One of the dogs that had been sniffing near her finally stuck out its tongue and licked her scraped leg. The rough texture of its tongue stung as it brushed over her wound, and the light bleeding that had stopped started again.

“Ugh, what are you doing, you filthy beast?”

A soldier shouted in obvious alarm as he rushed over to pull the dog back. Vienny looked down at her leg, now smeared with the dog’s saliva. The dog had tasted her blood.

She knew she’d probably start bleeding again in the middle of the night. Without a carriage to protect her, she’d be out in the open, leaving a trail of blood as she slept. Fortunately, the soldiers carried enough of the scent of blood with them that her own wouldn’t make much of a difference. Vienny looked at the dog that had moved away and sighed, leaning back against the tree trunk.

Her ankle throbbed, her wound hurt and her whole body felt drained. To be honest, she knew that if she closed her eyes right now, she’d be asleep in no time. The soldiers, who had set up camp in an instant, were already preparing dinner, but Vienny had no appetite.

After a moment’s hesitation, she told a soldier standing nearby that she wanted to go to a nearby river. He looked down at her swollen ankle with an irritated expression, but after a pause reluctantly unhooked her chains.

The river was close by. The soldier escorted Vienny to the water’s edge before turning his back on her, confident she wouldn’t try to escape with an injured ankle. He shackled her securely and left, knowing she couldn’t go far even if she wanted to. Guards were stationed only a few meters away, and if she did try to run, an arrow would find her before she got far.

Alone by the water, Vienny took in the earthy smell and faint scent of fish before carefully stepping into the river. The water was shallow, and its cold touch against her swollen ankle was both soothing and chilling. As she immersed her feet in the cool current, she felt a slight relief from the throbbing pain and swelling.

Vienny waded further into the stream, trying to wash the dirt and blood from her battered legs. As the water rose to her calves, she shifted her weight, momentarily forgetting about her injured ankle. A sharp, sudden pain shot through her leg, forcing her to gasp and steady herself.

“Ah!”

Splash!

Trying to avoid the pain, Vienny shifted her weight to her left leg, but her foot slipped on a slippery stone and she lost her balance. Her thin dress quickly soaked through, clinging tightly to her as she fell into the river.

“Ugh…”

She watched as a small bloom of blood from her wounded calf spread through the water, her black hair hanging limply around her like strands of seaweed, dark and heavy from the splash.

Vienny sighed deeply, her eyes fixed on her hair floating on the surface of the water. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly exhausted, as if all the tiredness she had been holding in was finally weighing on her shoulders.

She raised her wet hands and covered her face, feeling the heat radiating from her flushed skin. Was it just the contrast between the cold water and her body, or was it the pain? In the end, did it even matter?