Chapter 5: CH5: Arriving To Town
Blood seeped down his pants leg as Dotty trotted down the washed-out road to town as snowfall turned to ice. A harsh wind blew from the North, freezing the air in his lungs and bringing on an uncontrollable shiver. More ice fell, melting on his shoulders, drenching his clothes worse. Branches popped from the growing wind before falling down with great echoing booms. A splinter from one of the limbs flew up and bumped into his cold, numbed shoulder. His head drooped down to see the blood-soaked floor of his wagon as Dotty's trotting ate up the miles.
Silas wasn't sure if he would make it to town and have the strength to flush out the madness that caused the death of an innocent girl. On the other hand, he didn't want to die and forget everything he learned if he passed on to soul society or became a part of a hollow's amalgamation of consciousness. Neither option would benefit him in any way, and his immortal's cave would block his entry cutting him off from his own hard-gathered spiritual energy.
He was too tired to force out any anger. The hollow had waited in ambush for him, possibly informed by the beast's squaw mother. If it had gone for the kill instead of playing confidence in Silas's inability to permanently kill it, Silas would have been worse off than a few deep gashes.
At least he scared it off. He could still smile at his small victories while dying from blood loss or freezing.
The reins fell from his hand, and if Dotty wasn't hitched to the wagon, she would have trotted off, leaving him behind. She knew the way to town even without his intervention and took the path with the least bumps. His old smart nag had some benefits from spirit energy after all, or maybe she was used to running around barrels.
His vision lost its edges, fazing out and going dark.
Death approached, but he wouldn't let it have him. He had so much work left to do if he could last a little longer, Silas might get what he wanted. Even as he bled out, Silas struggled to remain awake; all he needed was a passing rider to have a chance at survival. Puritans were famous good samaritans when they weren't hanging young girls as witches for being unmarried and beautiful.
He stopped feeling cold which was a bad sign, but he hadn't left his body when the gate came into view. A rider quickly traveled by his side and stared down at him until he blinked. The man's eyes widened, and he took off his own riding coat and tossed it over Silas before pulling out a horn and sounding it. Other horns blew in the town, and more riders came to his aide while he slipped in and out of consciousness.
It was his cultivation that kept him alive through the blood loss. Even if he was still technically a mortal, there was enough supernatural about him to linger on the knife's edge. Every time darkness crept into his vision, it felt like death would take him. Silas fought it away.
After reaching the town, he was pulled off the wagon and taken to the town surgeon, who wasted no time removing the fabric from his wound and stitching him up. A girl moved into bed with him filling him with warmth before he finally passed out.
…
When Silas opened his eyes days later, he was surprised. He expected to die, but he endured nearly bleeding out even with less than 20% of his veins cultivated. Surely, he had lost every drop of blood, but upon awakening, he felt rejuvenated.
The surgeon's daughter entered the room with a bowl of pea soup from his harvest. Her blonde hair and elfish features were angelic when matched with the girl's long blue gown and flowing skirt.
"Methinks thou art lucid instead of jabbering the devil's lines like a drunken Romeo stepping into Hamlet's role. Ophelia, thou hast died, so I shall jump into the river after thou." The girl said with a smile. "My name is Catherine Wilds; thou art Silas Flex, the yet-to-marry man who staked his claim on the most fertile land around the lake south of here. The town talks of thou like a hero who braved the devil's stealthiest beast to deliver fresh crops to town." Catherine said.
Silas could only conclude there was a food shortage, and by the way, the hollow killed livestock; he wasn't likely to get a new cow or chickens. A hungry town would butcher any spare cows and chickens first and then eat the dogs and cats. So that made the entire trip a waste he could have spent cultivating.
"I expected to purchase a cow, 10 pigs, and two score chickens with my harvest, or did stitches and care become a premium along with sanity. Tell me do thou know why a girl was hanged until death and forced to hold such a despicable sign?" Silas asked.
The surgeon Marshal Wilds stepped into the room with a stern look on his face.
"Question my daughter no more lest thou bring down my wrath. Who art thou to question the legitimacy of a fair judgment? If demons exist, then why not witches that consort with them. Thou art wounded by a demon yet doubt the judgment of those who hold thy best interest. Shame on thou, for when thou were weak, the people of low Delaware town gave succor." Marshall said.
"Thou art no cousin of mine, but thank thou. My own food strengthens me under thy care. But don't pretend that Sirrah, who hasn't faced the beast, knows it. I fought the beast and am not convinced of its devilry, only its cunning. While not fatal, a shot from my musket forced it to flee. Methinks it is a beast we haven't seen before, a monster of the new world." Silas said.
Silas threw off his blanket, and Catherine covered her eyes while he stood up and flexed, careful not to agitate his wound. "Prithee, how long have I been out?"
"Thy words are those of a foolhardy youth. Beg God's forgiveness lest thou get other's slaughtered with thy pride."
The only actual God around was the soul king, and the vegetable wasn't in a state to listen. But, of course, that wasn't what put the final nail in the coffin for him regarding religion.
In another future, he remembered reading the book the sacred mushroom and the cross. It thoroughly killed any belief he had in Christianity, especially when the apparently holy words were taken back to their original meanings.
On the other hand, he was dealing with puritans who believed so faithfully in Christianity that they murdered an innocent girl because they were paranoid. There was trying things that might work, and there was killing one of their own because the chickens were murdered in the field.
"Her death didn't stop it. Don't worry, I'm sure thy daughter is safe. Thou art much more affluent than the deceased fur trader's orphaned daughter."
"Thy mind is full of the devil's festering boils and rancid thoughts. If thou art in good health, leave my home." Marshall said.
Silas threw on his washed clothes with his blood stains still on them. The food he had eaten had given him a slight boost in his cultivation. He was sitting at around 14% after being out of it. A letter in his pocket left by John Grisham helped soothe his mood some. It was extremely helpful to have a friend to look after his affairs while he was out of it.
On the other hand, John's purchases weren't what Silas would have chosen. He had become the hesitant owner of 5 slaves while he was out of it, and John promised to send over his chief overseer, a recently freed man named Cletus.
Rumor had it Cletus was the son of a dutchman colonist who survived the attack of Richard Nicollis on New Amsterdam two decades back and was sold into slavery. His mother was an African slave once owned by Cletus's father. Maybe he would get a story out of the overseer if things didn't go horribly wrong. He hoped John bought some strong men ready to work for their freedom.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Ultimatedaywriter
Ultimatedaywriter If you want to read the next chapter see it on my Pa Tree On close the spaces and remove and e.
https://www.pa tree on.com/posts/76215203?pr=true
My other work
https://www.webnovel.com/book/miniature-hunter_25602702706642305
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone