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A rtur Bloodhand lay in the cart and contemplated where it all went wrong. Each bump in the road sent stabs through his bones and rattled his skull. He'd been restless lately, and it had seemed like a good idea to take a scenic business trip to clear his head.

Ironically, he'd been waylaid by bandits and left for dead. They should have killed him, he thought vengefully, because they wouldn't enjoy it when he caught up with them.

Now here he was, saved by a damsel who was swearing as she stomped beside the cart. His savior was medium height, with curly brown hair and tan skin. She had big brown eyes and a big nose with a stubborn jaw and lots of dark freckles...quite attractive by goblin standards.

Squelched, rather. It was far too muddy for stomping. The swearing was very heartfelt, though.

He would have liked to swear too, but he was busy trying to be a man and keep his howls of pain to himself.

His nose was broken, it felt like he had a cracked rib and he wouldn't be surprised if he had internal injuries.

His arms and legs seemed intact, which was a minor miracle.

He didn't know if he could have dragged himself into the cart if he'd had a broken leg.

He could see a little out of one eye but he closed it against the pain. There was nothing to see but scrubby trees and rocks anyway.

What he could hear and smell was more interesting. There were only two bags in the cart, which she used to prop him up. One was squishy and probably held clothes. The other smelled like iron and food and he assumed it was full of cooking gear, and he was bleeding all over her blankets.

There was a faint jingle underneath him that had nothing to do with the cart wheels. Like all goblins, he was sensitive to metals. He could smell gold. It was faint, probably well wrapped, but he was right on top of it.

So, what was a good Samaritan doing running around with a cart full of gold? He didn't think she'd stolen it, not if she were bleeding heart enough to stop for a stranger who clearly annoyed her.

Was she running from something? That seemed likely. But even if her money was concealed, why risk traveling alone? As he knew full well, the road was teeming with bandits.

A particularly ugly rut jolted him and he grit his teeth. Just a little bit longer. He was a man. He could handle a little pain.

...

“What do you mean there's no doctor?” The town was small and muddy, but big enough for a town doctor. The inn was rundown and grubby, but blissfully warm and dry.

“Sorry, Miss. There's been a major landslide. It buried half the neighboring village. The doctor and all the people we can spare are there helping. It's just me and the stable boy here now.”

Julep rubbed her temple, trying to stave off a headache. Of course the doctors had gone. She didn't blame them, but it put her in a bad spot.

She just wanted to drop this goblin off.

Unfortunately, he was unconscious from the pain of the ride.

The stable boy and innkeeper had managed to get him into a room, but no one was around to doctor him.

“Is there a maid, farm wife...anyone...who would like to make some money to take care of this guy?”

He shook his head. “Everyone is helping with the landslide. In fact, I can rent you a room, but you're going to have to fetch your food and water from the kitchen. I'm helping to gather supplies for the rescuers.”

It hit her like a slap. No one was available. She was stuck.

Of course, she could just walk off and leave him...except, she'd been raised better than that. She swore in helpless frustration. It was going to be a long night.

She hauled a wooden bucket of hot water to the rented room. Mercifully, it was on the ground floor. That was good, because there was no way they could have hauled the goblin upstairs. Since it was next to the main fireplace, it was also toasty warm.

It was also the only room left.

The goblin was still laying on the narrow bed where the stable hands had put him, dirtying the sheets with blood and foul smelling mud. It smelled so bad, she wondered if there was dung mixed in with it. Maybe something had died there and decomposed before he conveniently fell on it. She shuddered.

She felt overwhelmed when she looked at the damage. She could wash him and put medicine on the wounds, but she didn't know how to set bones. What did one do for broken ribs?

She sighed and set the bucket down. She poured some into a wash basin and got to work while he was conveniently unconscious. Soap, water and salt could do a remarkable job setting things to rights, and she had some salve she'd made herself; very good for preventing infection.

It was weird washing another adult, but she made quick work of it. He had a lot of scars to go with the new damage. Despite being green, he wasn't slimy, once she washed the mud off, and she was grateful.

Since he was unconscious, she didn't worry about being gentle. It was much quicker that way. No point in dragging things out.

He was cold, but that was to be expected. The warm room would soon take care of that.

After most of the blood and grit was cleaned off, she asked the innkeeper about a fresh set of sheets.

“It'll cost you, the harried innkeeper said. “The laundress doesn't work for free.” He frowned and said belatedly, “We have soap, but that's also extra.”

“I brought my own, thanks,” Julep said stoically. Looking around, she could believe that this place didn't believe in free soap.

She bribed the stable hand to help her change the stinky sheets.

“He's too heavy to move. We'll never get him back on the bed,” the lanky teen complained as they assessed the situation.

Julep had thought about that as she cleaned the goblin up. “Just shift him over to the side. You know, pull the blankets until he's on that half. I'll put the sheets on this half, and then we'll shift him back over.”

“Heavy beggar,” the boy complained. “If the sheets tear, I'm not paying for them!”

“Fine. Now pull!” The rough sheets proved to be sturdy, thankfully. She didn't need to incur more expenses. She didn't have a lot of small coins left. Flashing gold in a place like this would be a bad idea.

She fetched more warm water so she could wash (the stink was embedded in her hands), and then had to get tea and food herself.

She wove through the noisy, crowded front room, grateful she'd snagged the last private room.

It was a busy road and the landslide had backed traffic up.

The complaints were loud, but most people seemed sympathetic.

The innkeeper was determined but swamped.

He threw together a wooden tray with a big bowl of lamb's head chili and cornbread for her.

She might have to personally carry it to her room, but at least he didn't skimp on portions.

“Just fill the teapot with some hot water and grab the tea things. Yes, those.”

“Might want to stay in your room till morning. Rough crowd tonight.”

“Thanks. Planned to,” she confirmed.

A few customers mistook her for a maid, and she was quite rude in her response. The man who slapped her butt was lucky she didn't dump her food all over him. Fortunately for him, she was starving.

The iron teapot would have made a great weapon, she thought wistfully as she kicked her door shut and barred it. Unfortunately, she didn't need to be involved in a brawl. She would lose.

The goblin was finally awake, although he looked confused. As well he should. Waking up naked and battered with a stranger would disturb even a goblin.

“Where are we?”

“We made it to the inn. Barely,” she muttered. They'd just beat the hail.

There was no furniture other than the bed, so she sat down on the rag rug before the fire and started eating. She'd done nothing but wait on him for hours, so he could wait and eat when she was done. It wouldn't take her long, she was bolting it down so quickly.

While she was at it, she brewed a medicinal tea for him. It was her personal blend, and it would blunt the pain considerably.

Lightning lit the room and a long roll of thunder rattled the walls.

“You found a doctor?” he asked, touching a bandage.

She poured the tea through the little strainer, stirred in a generous spoonful of honey, brought him a cup, and then realized she needed to prop him up.

She sighed in aggravation, set the tea on the floor and used her bag of clothes as a prop; there was only one thin pillow. Nursing was so much work!

She handed him the cup. “Unfortunately, I am the doctor. It probably means you're going to die.”

He choked on his tea.

“Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly. “Bad timing.”

“You sounded just like a goblin doctor. It was funny.” He made a face at the tea.

“It will blunt the pain,” she said.

“Good. You don't need to sweeten the medicine, though. I prefer it without.” He carefully finished the cup and thanked her for the chili she handed him, before wolfing down the remaining cornbread. He couldn't chew very well with the swollen jaw, but he got it down.

She probably could have mushed it for him, but she mentally shrugged. She couldn't think of everything.

While he made horrible gulping and masticating sounds, she contemplated the rug in front of the fire and thought about sleep. She just wanted to close her eyes and forget about the day. She'd earned it.

There was a moment of silence, and then he said bluntly, “I need to pee. Is there a chamber pot in here? I don't think I can make it outside.”

Thoughts of sleep fled. She stared at him in horror. There were new lows to experience, it seemed.

Not only could he not go outside, he could barely sit up. It was a new and horrible experience to steady someone while he peed into a chamber pot.

She didn't look, but there was no way to tune out the splashing. Or to avoid seeing the bloody pee as she put the lid on the pot. “Should that be red?” He was a goblin, after all. Maybe it came with the green skin.