New Beginnings

Preface

I watched my mother's steady hands as I had for many years. She didn't tremble and her expression was completely calm. She made expert even stitches as she pulled the jagged skin together as she would two parts of fabric. I held a ceramic bowl for her to put blood soaked pieces of cloth into. Even though I was young I wasn't frightened by the things I had seen. It was life.

Mother's tiny stitches held the man's skin together. He groaned and took a long swig from the bottle of dark liquid that was sitting next to the make shift cot he was laying on. Mother tied a knot in the strong thread when she closed off the wound.

"You'll be alright." My mother soothed the man as if he were a child. She wrapped her work in a thin clean cloth to prevent infection. Just as her mother had taught her and her mother before her. I didn't doubt that the man would be fine. "Come Anna we have more work to do." She was right, there was much to be done. The men around us had just returned from a hunt that had gone terribly wrong. Several of them needed medical attention. As the only healers in the area we had the responsibility to attend to the wounded.

My mother was a talented healer and her much needed services were called on often. She had started bringing me on her rounds after my father died. It was on her rounds that she taught me everything I know about being a healer.

She had taught me how to make even stitches and with much practice I would one day have skills to match those of my mothers. Together we had seen much. We had seen both life and death in our time but that was the life of a healer.

The next man was feverish with vivid hallucinations. My mother gave him a potion made from herbs that would pull him out of the fever.

"Anna you have seen enough you have had practice you see up the next wound."

"Mother I can't I am not ready" I protested. I was only twelve years old. She couldn't trust me to take care of these men.

"Yes, you are. You are ready for this." Was her reply as she wiped her hands on her apron.

I was determined not to sew up the next wound. But my mother was just as stubborn as I and she held the needle out to me. I recognized the stiff set of her upper lip because it was the same one that was on my face. She reached out and pulled the bowl away from me and forced me to take the needle and thread. My hand shook. I was terrified.

Clenching my jaw tightly I closed my eyes for two seconds to take a deep breath in hopes that it would calm me down. Then it was time to work. I turned to the man and gave him a weak smile. He nodded at me. He was probably saying goodbye to a fully functional arm. His healing was in the hands of a twelve year old. I reached over to pull the rag off of his bloodied skin. The wound was deep but it wasn't large. The gash was maybe three inches long. Mother had sewn up cuts that were twice that size. I squared my shoulders and tightened my grip on the needle. It was time to work. I paused for just a moment before I pushed the needle into his skin then pulled the thread through to the other side. I could feel his eyes on my face. I knew he was hurting but for my benefit he kept quiet not making a sound as I sewed.

"Thank you" he said as I tied the knot of the thread.

"You are welcome." I replied.