Flesh And Fur: A Dance With Darkness

6- The Deer

Cleaning his wounds would be too difficult and time-consuming at the cave, Elise concluded, leading her to clean him as he lay on the travois. She removed her shirt and soaked it in the river, bringing it to him and wringing the water out over him. After making sure he was sufficiently wet, she used her shirt to wipe the mud from his fur and dab it away from his injuries. The wolf twitched a few times through his cleansing but never made a sound.

Content that he was as clean as she could get him, she heaved a deep sigh, put her sopping shirt back on, took a rope she had made from twisted vines and tied it around his chest to secure him to the travois. She had to ensure that he didn't slide off while she dragged him. The rope was tight but not constricting, and she hoped it wouldn't cause any further harm.

Gripping the poles with both hands, Elise began the arduous task of pulling the wolf to the cave. Every muscle in her body screamed with each step she took, and the wet earth clung to her as if trying to pull her back. Each tug brought forth a fresh wave of agony, and she could feel the warmth of his blood and draining water. seeping through the makeshift stretcher and onto her own wounds in various stages of healing.

The journey was long, the path fraught with obstacles. Roots snaked out from the ground, grabbing at her bare feet and the wolf's travois. Twice, she had to stop to free the travois, her breath coming in ragged gasps and her heart hammering in her chest. The wolf's breathing grew more labored with each jolt and bump, and she knew she had to hurry.

Elise's eyes darted back to the wolf frequently, checking for any signs of worsening pain. The creature's eyes were squeezed shut, but she could see the tension in his body, the way his muscles tightened and released with each breath. His fur, once muddy and blood streaked, now glistened in the filtered light of the forest.

The sun was climbing high in the sky. She only had two hours to complete her self-imposed task and gather something to feed the household with.

With grim determination, Elise hauled the makeshift stretcher over the last of the tree roots, the wolf's heavy body dragging behind her. Her muscles burned, and her skin was scored with fresh cuts from the sharp stones and sticks that littered the path. The cave entrance loomed ahead, a dark maw in the side of the boulder studded hill that promised refuge and safety for the injured creature.

The opening was narrow, barely wide enough for the wolf's broad shoulders to fit through. Elise had to twist and wiggle the travois, pushing and pulling it at odd angles to navigate the tight space. Her heart was in her throat, fearing she'd cause the creature more pain or worse, get stuck before he was safely inside. The wolf remained unnaturally still, his trust in her unspoken but palpable. Or, perhaps, he was simply too injured to care what happened to him. She could sympathize with this concept.

The cave walls closed in around them, the darkness a stark contrast to the dappled light of the forest outside. She felt the weight of the wolf's body shift as the travois scraped over the jagged stones that littered the cave floor. The sound echoed through the small space, and she cringed with each scrape. The smell of damp earth and moss filled her nose as she inched forward, her eyes adjusting to the gloom.

Once the travois was wedged completely inside the crag, she let out a sigh of relief. The wolf was safely inside, his body now a motionless mass on the makeshift stretcher. Carefully, she stepped over him, her bare feet landing softly on the cold ground and edges of the travois. The cave was surprisingly dry, a small mercy given the circumstances. It was a tight fit, but she had managed to get him into the shelter.

Her next task was to treat his injuries. She had seen the plants that could help before in the woods and had often used them on her own injuries. Plantain, calendula, and nettles grew in abundance around the village and open field she had run through during the hunt. Her instincts took over, guiding her hands as she picked the plants she needed.