The Feathers of Fire [1st DRAFT]

6. Fishing for Boots

                       The sun dipped below the horizon and the air turned frigid. The twins huddled by the fire where I had placed some strips of meat on spits to roast. I laid Beanstalk on the ground gently and removed Benito's halter and saddle bags. He nibbled on some dry grass before laying down next to the fire as well.

                        I unrolled my sleeping bag and placed it under Beanstalk. I felt his brow, he was burning up. After pouring a quarter of the water from my canteen onto a cloth I laid on his forehead.

                            I licked my thumb and tried to wipe some of the soot from his face. I gingerly felt his arms, legs and ribs to make sure nothing had fractured. The next few minutes consisted of placing several small bandages on the small cuts on his arms, as well as my own. After that was taken care of I took out my knife and carefully cut open the makeshift cast. The bandages were completely soaked and dried blood caked the edges of the wound.

                               To my disgust there were maggots wriggling around in the cut. A fly must've laid eggs in it before it was bandaged. I was hoping that it wouldn't come to it, but I took out my bottle of hydrogen peroxide that I'd been saving for quite some time and poured it on the wound. The maggots went crazy as the liquid frothed. Some crawled out and some tried to crawl deeper.

                              I took a deep breath and reached my fingers into his arm, picking out the maggots one by one. He stirred slightly and groaned. Again, this didn't disgust me, I was used to seeing those kinds of things. I just wasn't used to helping anyone other than myself with such an injury. After I was confident that the maggots were gone I took out the bottle of my precious Beatitudine and put barely two drops in the dropper.

                              "Beanstalk," I whispered urgently, shaking him gently. He mumbled then went still again. He began to shiver, though whether it was from actual temperature or the fever I couldn't tell. While holding his arm in place I shifted him into a sitting position. "Beanstalk," I said again. His eyes fluttered open. "Here," I said, lifting my canteen to his lips.

                                 I let him sip the water until it was almost gone, then quickly shifted to the anesthetic and allowed him two drops. He didn't notice the switch because he was still only about half conscious.

                                 After a few minutes I was positive that he was under the anesthetic's influence and got to work. I took out the needle and thread and carefully stitched the wound shut. I'd had practice at this before. When I was eleven I'd been cut by a broken bottle after falling off Benito. I had to give myself stitches, I didn't have any sort of anesthetic however and did it all while fully awake and aware. That day was among my worst memories.

                                 After that I re-wrapped his arm in gauze and tape, hoping that this time, infection would be prevented.

                                I removed my precious aloe vera oil from my pack and spread on his burns, and finally on my hand.

                                I'd been so distracted during the action that I hadn't realized how badly my hand had blistered. The aloe vera gave my parched skin a cooling, tingling sensation, but the wound still stung. I got him into the sleeping bag, which was insulated and waterproof.

                                 Afterwards I checked Cricket and Slug for any severe cuts or burns but all of their injuries were minor. All the same it was clear that they were in extreme discomfort and were trying to hide, probably because they noticed that I wasn't complaining in the slightest about my own condition.