"Stay still,"
says Odymn.
Tugs corners of the ground sheet
from under the Slain's legs,
his shoulders.
Puts a hand on his chest,
a thumb on the roughness
of his chin.
She edges by.
Signals to Wen-le-gone
and together they clutch
the ground sheet hem.
Ease the Slain
from the shelter.
Odymn steps back.
Watches the Argenop
examine the Slain.
His furry paws
sprout fingers.
Muzzle lifts,
nostrils quiver.
Long ears,
red-veined
and throbbing.
Twitching tail.
Wen-le-gone rolls the Slain
to lie on his side.
Mutters to himself.
Entry and exit wounds.
Entry wound
in his back
small and clean.
Exit wound a crater.
Lifts an edge
of the leafy poultice
and the Slain clenches his teeth.
Wen-le-gone staunches
the tiny seep of blood.
Nods to Odymn.
The Slain watches, amazed
in spite of pain.
Left the Argenop,
furry woodland creature,
in a cage in Sintha.
His amethyst eyes
find the blue
of Odymn's eyes.
He whispers,
"My pack."
Odymn nods.
Pulls it
from the depths
of the shelter.
Spills its contents
into the moss.
His rope.
His map.
A bundle of tickets.
A tarn of dried kotildi meat.
The parcel of tokens kept
to remember his contracts.
She finds a folded kit,
supplies for emergencies
of this very kind.
A curved needle.
Thin strands of kemet gut.
A roll of bandages.
A tube of clotting paste.
Pill casings
filled with powder.
Marked "anath",
anti-microbial.
Wen-le-gone's tail rattles,
his whiskers flare.
YOU ARE READING
Meniscus: One Point Five - Forty Missing Days
Science FictionAfter the Slain is shot, Odymn and an Argenop elder work together to try and return him to good health. As they journey towards the Themble, survival is a challenge. Odymn must add to her foraging skills and survive an attack by the vicious kotildi...
