Beauty in Pain

His acceptance was grudging, and his question sent a glitter of amusement over her eyes as she remarked, “I’d only drag you home if you were in desperate need of skill beyond my own training. Should you change your mind, my mother’s Chapter is camping in the Dancefloor of the Gods, to the west of here. It’s a vast, flat plain with one river and no trees. They are the most experienced healers you could hope to find, at least that I know of.”

At his firm request, she nodded. “Agreed.”

Once he was settled, she laid out her kit, pots of salve and other assorted equipment within reach. Another tortoise shell was pulled from one of the pouches and set out, a flask of water poured into it, before she pulled her fire kit from one of the compartments and set up a small blaze with a coal from the coal horn she carried, ducking away to bring back wood and feeding the fire into a merry little thing.

As she worked, she wordlessly hummed one of her mother’s favorite songs, a lullaby that suited the Nomads perfectly. Her paws followed the rhythm into efficiency as she dropped the threads she’d need into the water in the tortoiseshell, nudging it against the fire and adding the long, curved bone needle to the water along with several herbs that would help disinfect the utensils.

She would have liked to have her father or mother overseeing her, but this was what she had to work with and she accepted it.

Another shell was filled with water and yarrow, steeping against the fire for several minutes as she probed and prepped the worst of the wounds. Once the mixture was ready, she took an absorbent square of rabbit pelt, dipping it into the water and then letting the liquid dribble over the wound, rinsing before she began swabbing with the pelt wedged between the toes of her dominant paw. She worked her way deeper as the wound began weeping, first pus, and eventually fresh blood.

“So, Gilgamesh, have you been in Boreas long?” Her song stopped as she posed the question, giving him an opening to make conversation that might distract him from the ministrations.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think