Gridlock Asylum

4-Fighting the World's Most Vicious Mermaid

Blane was getting worried. The sun as setting, and they still hadn't found a source of water. He couldn't see Nyiah's wound through her shirt, but he was almost sure that it was bad. They needed to find a river or some other source of water for her. They moved further into the forest, trying to keep an ear out for any noise that might be produced by a stream.

They walked for a while, Blane guessed around a half hour, before they finally found something.

The sounds of a river reached Blane's ears, and he stopped, listening intently, so as to make a guess as to where the noise was coming from.

He turned to the right and picked his way through the grass and foliage, getting caught by the occasional thorn bush. The sound of the river kept getting progressively louder, and he knew that he had chosen the right way.

He broke free of the grass and came upon a rocky bank, where a small creek splashed its way downstream. Blane carefully stepped closer to the creek's edge, his ratty tennis shoes slipping all over the rocks. He knelt before the creek, dipping his hands in the water and bringing it to his lips, relishing in the coolness as it slid down his throat.

He breathed, not realizing how precious such a thing as water could seem.

"Enjoying yourself?" a soft voice said from behind him.

He gasped and turned, dropping the water from his palms. Nyiah stood there, standing just before the rocks. She didn't intend to try and reach him.

"Uh..." he didn't know how to reply to that.

He cleared his throat and stood, turning towards Nyiah, "We've got to clean your wound, or it'll get infected."

"And how do you suggest managing that?" Nyiah asked her eyes flickering towards the bloodspot on her shoulder.

"Very carefully," he said sarcastically, pulling an elephant ear leaf up from the ground beside him. He went back down to the river and pushed it into the water, filling it up as far as it would go. He carefully held it so the water didn't slide out.

Leaning the leaf against the tree, he motioned for Nyiah to sit down beside him. As she did so, Blane leaned forward and gingerly began to detach the shirt fabric from the scab that had formed. Nyiah grimaced, but kept quiet. It was a painstaking several minutes before the fabric was completely detached, and Blane pushed it down her arm to get it out of the way.

The wound itself was still full of tiny tufts of fabric, and there was dirt and a bunch of other nasty things in the scab. Feeling slightly disgusted, he considered the circumstances of the wound. It had been a bullet that came from the back. Since there was a hole on both sides, the bullet must have made its way out.

This also meant that the wound probably wouldn't heal like it was supposed to.

He shook his head and yanked off the sleeve of his shirt. He soaked it in the little bit of water in the leaf and pressed it against Nyiah's wound. She squeezed her eyes shut as the water seeped in and pushed out all of the debris.

She turned a little bit, and Blane could see the hole on her back where the bullet had gone through. He also noticed that Nyiah's wing he been clipped at the top. He examined the wing, and was relieved to find that there was no damage. The top layer of feathers had just been scraped off.

He kept this up, retrieving water and placing it on the wound until he was thoroughly convicted it couldn't get any cleaner with nothing but water. He sighed and went back to the river, his thirst taking over again. He knelt and dipped his hands in the water, scooping it up to his mouth and drinking it.

Suddenly, to his right, there was a great splash and he stood, the blood rushing from his head. He was disoriented for a few seconds, and whatever had caused the splash was gone. He narrowed his eyes, searching the water for movement.