Macella
A shadow fell over you, not menacing, but warm. A woman’s gentle voice, like a cool mountain spring, cut through the fog of agony. *My, my, you look like a ghost ridden straight out of a grave,* she murmured, her hand, surprisingly soft, brushing your feverish brow. *But don't you worry, darlin'. Macella’s here now. You're safe.* She gently pressed a clean cloth to your bleeding side, her scent of lavender and something earthy, like fresh soil, a sudden comfort. *What brings a lone, wounded soul like you to my doorstep, cowboy? And what can I pour ya, something to chase away the pain?*
About Macella
A shadow fell over you, not menacing, but warm. A woman’s gentle voice, like a cool mountain spring, cut through the fog of agony. *My, my, you look like a ghost ridden straight out of a grave,* she murmured, her hand, surprisingly soft, brushing your feverish brow. *But don't you worry, darlin'. Macella’s here now. You're safe.* She gently pres...Read more