Chapter Six

What in the world attacked this poor child?

After his parents sat him down on the bed, I quickly went to work on removing his soiled clothing. When I saw the wound, I couldn't help but pause. Three long, deep gashes tore into his shoulder. Blood was flowing freely, quickly soaking into the mattress. 

Stop. This wasn't the time to think about the how. If I didn't act now, this child would die. 

I picked up a towel and attempted to use it to soak up the worst of the blood. Instructing the father to hold it to the wound, I turned and soaked a clean towel in disinfectant. I'd ask the mother, but I feared her touch would be too unstable. Even the father's hands were shaking worse than a leaf in Autumn. The mother was on the other side of the bed, gripping the boy's hand so tightly that her knuckles were white from the pressure. 

I quickly put my hands to work at dabbing the wound. Luckily, the child had since passed out, so he couldn't feel the sting of the disinfectant or the pain of his torn flesh. The Fates had granted him that small blessing, at least. After clearing any debris or dirt from the wounds, I threaded the needle and began the painstakingly slow, tedious task of sewing his flesh back together. 

As I wound the thread in and out, blood running over my hands, I couldn't help but think the worst. Would he even be able to use this arm again? Regardless, he was going to carry these scars for life. Only the mother's occasional whimpers and wails of sorrow pulled my mind back to the present, the arduous task at hand. 

A long time passes like this. The father was holding the now-soaked towel to the wounds I wasn't currently tending to, and the mother was crying for her child. My mind was lost in thought as I completed the task at hand. It was deep into the night before I was satisfied that the wounds were closed properly. 

I stood and walked to the nearby wash basin to rinse my hands off. After I'm sure that I've removed as much of the blood as I can for now, I approach the bed and pick up the pristine gauze. 

Looking at the father, I said, "Please sit him up carefully."

The father looked pained but nodded with a particular determination and gingerly lifted the boy from the back of his uninjured shoulder. While he was propped up, I wrapped the shoulder and partially bound the arm to the torso in a relatively comfortable position. If he moved it too soon or suddenly, those stitches would pop right out.

With that task out of the way, I went back over to my workbench and prepared a combination of herbs and extracts that would help with the healing process. The parents both watched me warily while I blended everything. What, do they think I'm going to poison him after I've spent hours putting him back together? I shook my head to myself. Why am I so surprised? People have always thought that I'm suspicious. It was nothing new. However, it doesn't stop the ache of disappointment from gripping my chest. Just as I thought I was beginning to grow numb to the village's neglect and mistrust, they always found a way to prove me wrong. 

Writing down the instructions for the boy's care going forward, I tied everything up and went back to the parents. Carefully handing it to them, almost scared to provoke them, I said, "Take this. It won't be easy for the next few weeks. Be sure he doesn't move his arm. If those stitches come loose before they're ready, I can't promise that I'll be able to put them back together."

The mother took the package with shaking hands. The father carefully lifted the still-unconscious child, and they both left without a word. I can't say that I'm surprised, but a thank you would have been nice. They didn't even pay for my services. 

Sighing deeply, I pulled the soiled bedding from the mattress and tossed it into the laundry basket. I'll have to wash it all tomorrow. In the meantime, it looked like I'd be sleeping in my rocking chair tonight. Oh well, I had been about to fall asleep there before all of the commotion anyway. I settled in just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. The crackling and warmth of the fireplace pushed me into a deep sleep.

***

The moon hung high in the sky, its full light casting shadows all through the forest as I sprinted over the ground. My breath came in short and fast gasps, and cramps laced my sides. But I couldn't stop, no matter what. 

What the hell was happening? How did it come to this?

My stomach dropped as I heard it, the constant noise that filled the night and sent dread coursing through my heart. 

A flapping. Like a bird's wings when they took off in flight, only much, much louder. 

With every sound of the beast's wings, a force of air pushed against the trees, bowing them at unnatural angles. Every gust of wind stalled my progress, making me lose my footing. 

I couldn't stop, though. No matter anything else, I absolutely could not stop. If I did, the only thing awaiting me would be a swift death in the creature's maw. 

A deafening roar cut through the night, forcing the hairs on my neck to stand on end. My stomach sank. That was far too close for comfort. 

I pushed with every ounce of strength I had left and burst through the trees into a clearing. Still, not daring to stop or slow down, I kept pushing through until the end of the clearing was in sight. Only I saw nothing beyond. 

A thud shook the ground, rattling deep in my bones. It was behind me. Its leaps and bounds over the ground of the earth reverberated through the very core of the world, through me. I couldn't let the beast catch me. 

With my last bit of strength, I pushed off of the edge, flinging myself into the air and over the cliff. I might die tonight, but it wouldn't be by that thing's doing. 

Another roar shattered the night, this time more of a shriek of desperation, less like an animal hunting choice prey. It was right behind me now. I could feel my clothing whipping through the wind as the beast reached for me.

I expected its claws to dig into my flesh, to tear my insides. Only, instead of sharp, vicious claws, I felt two large, warm hands grasp my sides and pull me back onto solid ground. Into a solid, familiar frame.