Riley hid her face as I pulled over a chair with some supplies from the table and started working, I had let the anesthetic gel get absorbed into her skin a little while before working and every time Riley began to fuss from discomfort, I added a little more and waited a couple minutes to continue.
After a few hours I had stitched and bandaged Riley to the point that I was satisfied she would heal well.
As soon as I had finished the last stitch, Riley had fallen asleep. Her breathing had slowed, and she was slumped into the couch. With fresh bandages I covered her with another blanket and added wood to the fire to keep her warm.
Standing, I glanced over at the table and looked at the bullet that I'd removed. It didn't look normal, my father had taught me to shoot from a young age and something about this bullet was off, especially with how black it looked.
Picking up the gauze and pinching it to hold the bullet I brought it to the sink and rinsed it in a strainer. Turning it over in hand and inspecting the bottom of the bullet there were three numbers etched into the rim of the base 975. Confused, I grabbed a small Ziplock bag and placed the bullet in and shoved the baggie into my pocket. I would look into it later.
For now I had to find out who this Riley was, and what had happened to her.
