The ground was cold.
Rough.
Unforgiving.
A boy lay motionless upon it.
Burned.
Broken.
Barely breathing.
No movement.
No sound.
Only the faint rise—
And fall—
Of a chest that refused to stop.
The road was quiet.
Until—
The creak of wheels.
A cart moved steadily along the dirt path.
Pulled by a tired horse.
A man sat at the front—
A travelling merchant on his way home.
"…Almost there…"
He muttered under his breath.
Then—
He slowed.
"…Hm?"
Something caught his eye.
At the side of the road—
A shape.
Still.
Unnatural.
"…What is that…?"
He pulled the reins.
The cart came to a stop.
For a moment—
He just stared.
Then climbed down.
Careful steps.
Slow.
As he approached—
The shape became clear.
A boy.
Covered in ash.
Skin burned.
Clothes torn beyond recognition.
The merchant frowned.
"…Damn…"
He crouched.
Hesitated.
Then reached out—
Two fingers pressed against the boy's wrist.
Searching.
Waiting.
…
A pulse.
Faint.
Weak.
But there.
The merchant exhaled slowly.
"…Still alive…"
He looked around.
Empty road.
No one else.
"…This is trouble…"
A pause.
His gaze returned to the boy.
Burned.
Broken.
Alone.
"…Tch."
He slid his arms beneath the boy—
Lifted him.
Careful—
But not gentle.
The body was light.
Too light.
He placed him onto the cart.
Covered him with a rough cloth.
"…Don't die on me…"
A quiet mutter.
More to himself than anyone else.
The cart moved again.
Wheels creaking.
Time passing.
Day shifted—
Into night—
Then day again.
The boy never moved.
Never woke.
Only breathed.
Barely.
The village came into view.
Alive.
Unburned.
People moving.
Talking.
Normal.
The merchant didn't slow.
"OI!"
His voice cut through the air.
"Where's the doctor?!"
Heads turned.
Recognition.
"…He's back."
"…What happened?"
No one asked further.
They already knew who he meant.
"…Go call her!"
Footsteps scattered.
The merchant jumped down—
Pulling the cloth back.
"…Still breathing…"
A whisper.
Then—
Footsteps approached.
Quick.
Annoyed.
"If this is another drunk fool—"
She stopped.
The moment she saw him.
Silence.
Her eyes scanned the body.
Burns.
Depth.
Damage.
"…Bring him inside."
No hesitation.
No complaint.
Just command.
Inside—
The room smelled of herbs.
And alcohol.
The boy was laid on a wooden bed.
Still unmoving.
Still silent.
Two others stood nearby.
A boy.
A girl.
Around the same age.
Watching.
"…Is he… alive?" the girl whispered.
The doctor didn't answer.
Not yet.
She stepped forward.
Checked the pulse.
Slow.
Weak.
Her hand moved—
Checking breathing.
Shallow.
Uneven.
"…He shouldn't be."
The words were quiet.
Blunt.
The boy frowned.
"…Then why is he?"
The doctor paused.
Just for a second.
Then—
"…Maybe he refused to die."
Silence filled the room.
"Water," she ordered.
"Cloth."
"Move."
The two apprentices snapped into action.
The burns were cleaned.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The boy didn't react.
Didn't move.
Didn't even flinch.
Bandages wrapped around his arms.
His chest.
His side.
The doctor stepped back.
Watching.
Judging.
"…Listen carefully."
The two looked at her.
"…If he wakes up—"
A pause.
"…He lives."
The girl swallowed.
"…And if he doesn't…?"
The doctor didn't look away from the boy.
"…Then we bury him."
Silence.
Heavy.
Night fell.
The village quieted.
Inside the small room—
The boy remained.
Still.
Unmoving.
Between breaths.
Between life—
And death.
The doctor stood for a moment longer.
Arms crossed.
Eyes sharp.
"…You're stubborn."
A quiet sigh escaped her.
"…Fine."
She turned away.
"Let's see how long you last."
The candle flickered softly.
Casting shadows across the bandaged figure.
No movement.
No sound.
Only a faint breath—
Refusing to fade.
An ember—
That refused to die.