Chapter 26 - Pity

Pan was so thrilled to find an offspring that he nearly threw the lady to the ground and ran towards the small dark brown sphere, almost.

 After setting the lady down carefully, he checked that there were no adult mandrakes near the offspring, and seeing that there were none, he then picked up the small sphere in one agile movement as if he were afraid it would disappear.

 'So easy?' Thought Pan as he looked around skeptically after putting the sphere in his pocket.

 He then stood there for a few moments, amazed at the realization of possessing something so valuable so simply, easily, and quickly.

 'I'll finally be able to buy a horse.' Thought Pan jubilantly.

 Putting the lady under his arm again, Pan headed towards the camp almost skipping, he just didn't hum, for he was afraid of waking something terrible that could be sleeping in the meadow.

 But Pan's joy, as usual, was as quick as it came.

 'I forgot about it.' Thought Pan after looking at the camp and remembering that the fool and his men had thrown themselves into the grass meadow.

 Pan put the young "maiden" to the ground with a sigh of defeat and then began to run in the direction where the stupid man and his stupid guards had gone.

 It didn't take long until Pan finally found the group, as was to be expected, five men running in the dark in a field planted with natural, deadly and macabre traps wouldn't get very far.  Pan still wanted to know how the girl got so far. But he would have to leave those questions for later, his essence was already halfway through.

 Soon, not wanting to stay any longer and risk going blind, Pan proceeded to knock out the five men, who didn't understand why he was beating them up instead of rescuing them.

 After knocking them all out, Pan began carrying them one at a time to the beginning of the meadow, starting with the lord, and when he finally got to the fifth and final man, his essence reserves were dangerously low and he had to let his senses get more and more cloudy.

An act that in Lazark was hardly rewarded with good fortune.  And it would be no different with Pan, who, already tired and sensorially limited, ended up stepping on a grass mandrake, who treated the action with extreme prejudice and extended from her small body a stake made of roots tens of times bigger than her.

 Pan's luck was that despite being cloudy, part of the slow perception remained, making him able to avoid the first spear of roots, but the thorns that sprouted from its stem ripped his chest from side to side. But he was still alive, still breathing.

 But the fifth man he carried under his arm wasn't so lucky, one of the spikes that came out of the big shaft entered his abdomen and after missing Pan, the other roots started to wrap around him.

 'Dammit!.' Thought panting.

 He was already physically exhausted from having to carry six people across the meadow, mentally exhausted from having to manage so much sensory information, spiritually exhausted from consuming essence and becoming lethargic and less aware by the second from the bleeding now in his chest, he could heal himself, of course, but wasting essence now that he has so little left and had the risky of being blind was simply foolish.

 To make matters worse, the man had gone into shock after the wound and was now thrashing around, making it impossible for Pan to make the roots retreat. Pan had to make a decision, and a quick one, before he, or the man, bled to death.

 'He's already dead anyway.' Thought Pan. Lying to himself.

 Lying because he knew he had already made the decision unconsciously. A decision he's not proud of, but he won't regret either.

 The wound that the mandrake made hit his remaining right arm, if he delayed and took even five minutes longer to heal, it might be too late.

 "I'm sorry, really sorry," whispered Pan.

 But in the end, self-preservation won out over his pity, and Pan turned and walked away. A crusader without both arms was no different from a dead crusader. Pan wasn't willing to risk what little he had left, physically and mentally.

 And as for the poor man. He could blame only himself, for being weak, in a cruel world where pity is rewarded with pain, misery and death.