The Oregon trail

Poker face

Alex's P.O.V

I was soaked to the bone when we finally reached a large cave. Once we passed through the long winding entrance, it opened up into a large clearing.

Groups of people sat huddled around small fires. Men, woman, and children of all ages looked up as us as we entered. Murmuring uneasily amongst themselves.

The three of us were shoved into a corner, stumbling as we fell to our knees. A knife was once more pointed at my face, a command was said to me in a language I could not understand. Before four of the bucks walked away towards a single tent that had been put up, disappearing beneath its flap.

Stacey groaned as he hit the wall, his face screwing up in pain. His rain jacket had been torn off from the force of the water, his light cream shirt was painted a deep red as blood seeped from the wound.

I sniffed, wiping my dripping face on my jacket sleeve.

"It needs to come out," I said to the blonde, his hair sticking to his face. "Do you know what your doing?" He asked slightly worried, "I was training to be a vet before all this," I disclosed pointing at the arrow waiting for his permission.

He nodded once, swallowing nervously.

The bonds were impossibly tight, my hands barely able to close. The rope keeping them at an awkward angle.

Shuffling closer, he leant forward as I examined the wound. The arrow had gone straight through his shoulder, a few inches above his heart. The sharp head was poking out through his back.

That was good, if it had still been inside of him I would have had to dig it out with my bare hands. It's not like I had any tools here I could use.

The arrow had to come out, if it stayed in any longer Stacey risked infection. And that would spell the death of him.

Grabbing the arrow shaft, I rested one hand against his chest. I could feel his heart thudding under neath it as I suddenly snapped my right wrist around.

He groaned lowly, hunching over from the pain. "Wait-," I didn't give him the chance to finish his sentence before I quickly reached around and pulled the remaining shaft from his back.

He cried out gritting his teeth in pain, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenched it. "Sorry," I muttered under my breath.

His sudden outburst didn't go unnoticed as our guard turned around to face us. He began to speak rapidly, catching the attention of the rest of the tribe.

Scar face grabbed me by the back of my collar, yanking me backwards. The arrow clattered from my hands, he stomped on it, stopping it from rolling away.

He looked at it curiously before he turned to face me.

Grabbing me by my arm he yanked me to my feet, much to The Virginians protest. Another two warriors came running from the tent to where we sat, as the scarred buck spoke rapidly to them.

"Where are you taking him?" The Virginian demanded, one of the bucks shoving him back to the ground as he tried to stand. The man who held me began to drag me away. I writhed in his arms turning to face the ramrod. "Keep pressure on the wound!".