E.M. Dash Web Novels
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Chapter 031 Big, Brave Jack Fell on His Own Arrow
🕑 Added 2025-08-04 22:00:06 +0000 UTCDay 3. Saturday 8:45pm.
Jack entered the courtyard of his home without a good plan. He had a plan, but it wasn’t a very good one.
He removed the rogue’s shortsword and bow, along with the dead rogue’s pack, and stashed them behind a shed containing gardening tools. His mother had a much-loved patch of well-tended herbs that she used in her cooking. He had to hope his mom didn’t look behind the shed before he moved his loot.
Hesitating as he approached the welcoming front door, he steeled himself. He had half an arrow sticking out of his side, and his body was covered in scratches, cuts, bruises, blood, and dirt from the forest; he couldn’t hide this.
Jack entered his home, greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of his mom’s cooking. “I’m home,” he called. There was no way he could sneak into his room and get cleaned up while hiding the few inches of arrow protruding from his side. Best to get it over with, he decided as he dropped his pack, bow, and quiver under a table as he passed.
His mother was exiting the kitchen. “I was so worried, whe…” Her words faltered when she saw the mess her son was in. She took a step back and, with a look of shock, put both hands to her face.
Jack forced a smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Wh-what happened?” His mother regained her composure and rushed to help him. She guided him into the kitchen, where Zia was at the table with his sister, Polly.
The pair had been eating some of the extra food his mom had ‘worry‐cooked’. Both looked at Jack in horror when they saw him in the full light of the kitchen.
“By the Gods, what happened to you?!” his sister yelled. “You look like you’ve been rolling around in… in an abattoir!”
Zia, with her wide, brown eyes, stared in silence, her mouth still chewing whatever she’d been eating like a broken automaton.
Jack forced another smile as his mother guided him to a chair, wincing in pain as he sat.
His mother took a step back, uncertain where to begin.
“I was attacked by a goblin while practising,” Jack explained.
Zia flinched at the word ‘goblin’, a flash of fear crossing her face. She touched the blue ribbon in her hair, as if seeking reassurance.
His mother frowned. “You have an arrow in your side, Jack. An arrow!”
Jack stared at the bloody arrow fletching protruding from his body and almost made the sarcastic remark, ‘I was wondering what that was’, but instead he lied. “I fell on it during the fight.”
His plan. His bad plan was to tell part of the truth. He’d been attacked by a goblin while practising archery, a plausible scenario, and then fell on his own arrow during the fight. He wouldn’t mention the adventurers. After all, falling on your own arrow was the sort of ridiculous tall tale that drunks would share at a tavern. He couldn’t think of a better explanation without including the rat-faced rogue’s involvement.
Polly couldn’t help but laugh. “You fell on your own arrow?”
Jack grunted in pain as he nodded.
His mother gave him a doubtful look before taking charge. “Polly, fetch your father. Zia, get a clean, large metal pan; the type we used to make stew earlier. And fill it with water.”
The two girls obeyed.
Zia? Jack thought. Is that Zee’s real name?
Zia knelt at one of the lower cupboards and clattered as she struggled to pull out a large pan.
Polly ran out of the kitchen, yelling, “Dad! Dad, Jack has an arrow in his side. Mom needs help with my idiot of a brother.”
Jack groaned; he could almost sense the smirk Polly must have on her face. This is going so well, he thought while his mother removed the clothes from his upper body as she searched for additional injuries.
“Are you injured anywhere else?” his mother asked while considering how to remove his vest, the arrow was stuck through it.
Jack shook his head. “Nothing serious, just scratches and bruises.” It was true: other than the arrow wound, his injuries were minor. Even the graze from the arrow on his right arm would heal in a week without treatment, assuming it didn’t become infected.
“Are you sure?” she asked while collecting a pair of scissors.
Jack nodded. “Yes.”
Polly returned with their father.
“Polly, help Zia fill the pan with water. Only fill it to a level you can safely lift, no more. Put it on the stove to boil,” his mother ordered. She cut away his sweaty, bloodstained vest to reveal his upper body.
Their father stood in the doorway. “By the Gods, whatever happened to you?”
“The idiot fell on his own arrow while fighting a horde of goblins in the forbidden forests,” his sister replied for him as she placed the pan of water on the stove.
She even jokes when I’m injured! Jack groaned. “It was one small goblin… and it was already injured.” He winced as his mother examined the arrow wound. “And there are no forbidden forests, you made that up.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” his mom said, “there’s nothing vital in that area… but it will need a healer.” She went to wash her hands. “Polly, put the stove on full power and keep it boiling for a few minutes.” She pointed at the magical fridge. “Add some ice to one of my large, flat pans. Use one of the deep ones.”
In awe, Jack watched his mother take full control of everything. He knew she was interested in medicinal herbs, but had no idea she could tend to serious wounds without panicking. She was adding a small pile of cloths to the pan of water on the stove and looked no different to when she cooked a meal.
Jack’s dad knelt beside him to examine the wound. “Hmm, I’ve seen worse,” he said with a frown. “Sian should be home by now. Sit tight, Son.” He patted Jack’s shoulder before heading back to his study.
Jack struggled to place. “Who’s Sian?”
His mom was mixing various herbs she’d collected. “An Apprentice Healer who lives nearby. She’ll patch you up after we remove the arrow.” Then she dropped some herbs into the boiling water.
Jack winced at the thought of the arrow being removed, That’s going to hurt. He heard his father leave the house to fetch the healer.
“Turn the heat off,” his mother instructed his sister. “Give it a minute to stop boiling, then carefully set the hot pan into the ice. Do it carefully.”
Polly turned off the heat and waited.
Jack’s mom stopped preparing herbs and looked at the orphan girl. “Zia, are you alright, sweetie?”
Zia had gone quiet and had drifted to the side of the kitchen. She looked as white as a sheet, and she was holding the blue ribbon in her hand like a lifeline. The little girl nodded… but without conviction.
His mother smiled. “Jack’s going to be fine. A healer will patch him up as good as new. You’ll see.” She gave the girl a hug as they waited for the water to cool and for the healer to arrive. Then she explained what would happen next. “When the healer arrives, we’ll clean the area and remove the arrow.” She looked at Jack. “Big, brave Jack won’t even complain while we look after him.”
Polly laughed and said, “Yeah, big, brave Jack won’t complain. Right, Jack?”
Jack grimaced. I’m pretty sure I’m going to complain loudly. Ignoring his sister, he forced a smile when he saw Zia glance his way for reassurance. “It doesn’t hurt that much. Paper cuts are much worse,” he joked. Shit! This is going to fucking hurt so much.
Polly placed the pan of boiled water on the ice while their mother watched, ready to offer advice or intervene.
His mom continued, “We’ll be cleaning the wound with the boiled water.” She then rubbed the little girl’s back. “Do you know why we boil the water first?”
Zia shook her head but looked interested.
“It’s to kill the nasties that cause us to get ill,” she explained, smiling at the simplicity of the explanation. “I’ve also got some special healing herbs to help Jack recover.”
The little girl stretched her neck to look at the herbs Jack’s mother had been preparing.
“Would you like to help heal Jack?” she asked.
Zia nodded and looked calmer.
His mother smiled at the little girl. “If you help out a lot, you might be offered some good classes when you get older… maybe even the healer class. Would you like that?”
The little girl nodded again, her eyes widening at the thought of getting offered a good class. As an orphan living on the streets, she was more likely to be offered classes like beggar or thief than a class like herbologist or healer.
“Let’s tie your hair back up with your pretty ribbon,” Jack’s mom said while taking the blue ribbon from Zia. The little girl smiled while her hair was retied.
As they waited for Jack’s father to return with a healer, his mom began describing the sorts of things Zia might have to do to become a healer or herbologist. Jack sat with a broad smile as he listened to his mom take the little orphan girl under her wing.
