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It made a noise, almost a cackle, and dove again. All of their swords came out then and the battle really began. Its claws extended, growing as though it too had swords attached to its hands. It landed, walking on two feet, and that was when I saw it had pointed wings too. They all went at the monster. It was almost a dance, of the deadly variety. I walked closer. Not so much that I’d be in trouble but so I could see better.
Oliver pulled his torch off his back and like he used a match, struck the ground with it and it lit up. Who had invented that? It was clever and I was impressed. But the mothman grew. They backed up and it charged at them. One of its talons struck Charles in the back, and he hit the ground hard.
I winced. What had Frederick just told me? They could die from the pain. No. I could help him. That was something I knew how to do. It must be bad because his torch rolled out of his hand as though he’d lost consciousness. Oliver grabbed him, pulling him back. That just left Frederick and Truett to battle the mothman.
No way did I want to know what the answer to my earlier thought about the wives dying would be today. I wasn’t letting that happen. Not to them, and not to me. I ran, kicking off my shoes. They always got in the way.
“Sloane,” Oliver yelled at me. “What are you doing?”
“Helping.” I grabbed the torch and restruck it on the ground. It was beautifully simple to use. In a swift move, I lit it on fire, a feat I was only able to accomplish because everything was so confusing, mostly because of the fact that Truett had just taken out its kneecap or whatever they called the organ in proximity to a knee.
It roared and I ignored it, instead turning to Charles. How badly was he hurt?
“Roll him over.” I told Oliver, who seemed like he wanted to yell at me but followed my directions instead. He would probably yell later, which was fine. I wasn’t fearful of their words. I’d already been struck by them, and I could only be mortally wounded by that once.
It was bad. Charles moaned and I examined his wound, a large, red scrape over his back. But it was even worse than that because there was an open gash right in the center. The situation would be very dangerous.
“Go get my bag,” I spoke to Frederick. “The one on my horse. I have herbs. We need to treat him now.”
The mothman was dead and we needed to focus now on Charles.
Truett knelt next to his fallen friend. “Fuck. Charles.” He put his hand on the other man’s head and looked at me. “People die from this. The pain.”
“No one is dying today.”
They did have a tent, so I had them set it up. While he was still unconscious, I wanted to get him safe and out of the elements. After I had them tear off his shirt, with my bag in hand, I cleaned the whole area on his back with disinfectant. I hoped it would be enough, but I’d never treated a monster wound before.
His eyes opened and he fought against the pain, so Oliver grabbed him to hold him still. “Don’t. She’s helping you. We’re all here.”
“By the kingdom, this is bad,” he panted.
I didn’t imagine Charles was a weak man. He probably got hurt before. In fact, his back was an array of scars that all must have pained him at one time. The skin was tough there, too, meaning it wasn’t his first foray into pain—which just meant this injury was really, really bad.
“I don’t know that I can live through this. I didn’t know. Didn’t believe it could be this bad.” He screamed, followed by a wrenching sound as his body twitched, I would imagine, uncontrollably.
I looked up at Frederick. “That stuff you smoked? The stuff that smelled so bad? It helps with pain.” From what little I knew about it, I understood the herb had many uses. “Do you have any on you?”
Frederick jumped up and ran to his bag. “I do.”
“Give it to him for the pain.”
Frederick lit up rolled paper and put it in Charles’ mouth. He tried to push it away. “No. My father. Won’t be like him.”
“No one here would allow that.” Frederick shook his head. “Just for now. Do it, brother, please.”
The other man finally inhaled. Good. It meant I could get busy taking care of his wound so hopefully it would heal and stop hurting before it took him out. “Keep him stoned. I don’t care how stoned. If he opens his eyes, give him more.”
Truett winced. “He’s going to hate that but yes, agreed. That’s what we’ll do. Can you fix this? It looks…awful.”
“I can.” I started to rub herbs on him. “I need a few hours. He won’t be dying. You guys are stuck with me, but at least I can do this. I am well-versed in healing ministrations, since it’s a passion of mine. Now I’m grateful it is.”
I cleaned and treated. Over and over, until some of the red left his skin. He cried out and they would dose him, say comforting things to him, until at last I’d done what I could.
“Keep him on his stomach. I’ll take care of him all night.” I wiped at my eyes. “By tomorrow, he should be able to be held upright. If one of you can carry him on your horse with you, then he can be brought back to the city-state. We’ll care for him there for a few days, but he’ll get through this. I think you can cut back the herb now, too. He’ll sleep. If he wakes up in pain, give him more, but not more than three times a day.”
Oliver stared at me. “I never would’ve thought to use the smoke. That was really, really smart.”
“Thanks.” I nodded. Yes, the redness was going away. The next thing we needed was for the wound to close. I would see to it that it did. “What good are my visions, if I can’t see this?” They really were right to not want this or me. What had Truett called them? Little visions. Yes, that was what they were. Useless. They showed the mothman, but not what would happen next.
