Thread: Out of Anguish (NurseMaxine and Traveler)

He woke momentarily when she was moving him. He saw the dead staring at him as he moved past them, their eyes dull and accusatory, and once he even thought that he saw his unit commander pointing at him while in the middle of a silent, eternal shout, but Alexanders head pounded and he had to close his eyes to quell the feeling of nausea that welled up in his gut. A few times he felt himself stop, and he feared that he was being left for dead, but then the litter moved and he could close his eyes and sleep. Once when he awoke his fingers felt at the wood and material of his makeshift litter. He was expecting rough woven fabric, but instead felt the soft stiffness of hide. Alexander frowned through the pain and tried to piece together who, exactly had him. There was no use in trying to turn and look at his litter-bearer his body hurt so badly that he would not have had the strength to roll away if a man came at him with a bayonet. Every breath felt like the stab of a dull knife in his lungs, and the very effort of drawing his fingers along the fabric of his litter shot flames down his arms. He heard the fire before he felt it. The crackling and the popping sound made him flinch awake, and once he adjusted his eyes he could see that they were in a cavern. He heard soft footsteps and moved his head slightly to see who was approaching. Somehow, the woman who was approaching seemed to have read his mind. She knelt and then helped him to lift his head, her gentle yet strong, tanned hands more than capable of suffocating him as easily as she moved the pot of water to his lips. He took a sip, then two, and shut his eyes as the cool salve rushed down this throat and spread its goodness across his chest. It felt like healing fingers were running over his body. Thank you, his voice was foreign to his ears. It sounded weak, like the voice of a dead man. She seemed not to be offended by it, though, lifting up the same pot and drinking deeply. He watched the firelight flickering across the arch of her neck and though that she must have been some kind of Indian Angel come to rescue him. Either that, or he was stuck in some kind of Native purgatory, and as soon as he was healed shed scalp him for the sins of his people. She didnt scalp him, though. She wiped at his face with a soft chamois, and when she was satisfied she laid down next to him. When she put her head on his chest he felt conflicted .Who was this woman? Why had she helped him? He let the questions go, though, and found the strength to lift an arm and cradle her closer. Its cold , he told himself, we just need to stay warm. But he knew that what he really needed was reassurance that everything was going to be alright. As far as he could tell they had been the only live persons on that battlefield, and the cold wind outside the cavern entrance told him that soon it would be dangerous to be without shelter and supplies. He experimentally moved his legs and found that one ankle hurt badly, but the other leg was just bruised. His body ached and it pained him to draw breaths, but he felt no piercing pains in his body that warned of internal injuries, and though his head hurt badly when he pressed against his brow and forehead, it seemed like there was nothing that screamed at him that hed be dying in a few days. There was so much blood on him. He explored as much as he could when he woke again and was both surprised and terrified to find the end of a thin stick protruding from the leg with the twisted ankle. The numbing burn of his thigh shrilled when his fingers moved the stick. Was that an arrow? Oh God... his voice cracked as his mind understood the implications of the stick. An arrow had broken in his thigh, an arrow that might fester and cause him gangrene. That would mean hed lose his leg or die. At this point he wasnt certain that death wouldnt have been the better of the options. What good was a man with no leg? Perhaps perhaps it would not grow red and infected but more people died from festering wounds then on the battlefields, and the memory of their cries haunted him as he drifted in and out of sleep, his mind now focused on the terrible chance that hed not live to see the next season.