“Ye’d best nae be a threat,” she murmured, more to herself than to the man.
Her fingers pressed harder against the wound as if urging his body to stay strong. She’d made her choice—for better or worse—and now, she could only wait for her mother to return.
The two lads, Bruce and Murray, appeared at the door with Claire.
“Boil some cloth, now!” Annabeth shouted to her mother, her voice sharp with urgency.
Annabeth tried not to let her panic take over as she guided the two brothers.
“Aye, pick him up gentle now and place him on the bed. Easy does it,” she instructed, her hands trembling slightly.
With their help, the man was finally positioned on the bed, and Annabeth moved to his side, focusing on the wound that could decide his fate. She didn’t allow herself to think beyond the task at hand, every second feeling like an eternity.
Annabeth worked quickly, her fingers steady despite the pressure, cleaning the wound as best as she could. As she bent over him, she caught a sharp scent on the air that made her pause for a moment.
“What is it?” Claire asked, noticing her sudden hesitation.
Annabeth’s eyes met her mother’s with a look of deep concern as she spoke in a whisper. “I smell wolfsbane.”
“Wolfsbane?” Claire repeated, her voice laced with fear.
“Aye, it’s poison was likely on the blade that made this wound,” Annabeth confirmed, her hands trembling as she carefully tended to the man. “We’ve nae time to waste. Prepare a concoction of tea and clay to draw the poison out.”
“I’ll do it, lass,” Claire said, her voice tinged with determination as she moved to gather the necessary items.
As Claire moved to prepare the tea, Bruce and Murray hovered at the edge of the room, their curiosity piqued.
“Who is he?” Bruce asked, looking down at the unconscious man.
Murray, who had been standing near the door, added, “There’s a horse grazing outside, lass. The beast looks well enough.”
“I do nae ken who he is,” Annabeth replied, her voice strained. “All I ken is he came to me door, and as a healer, I cannae turn anyone away who’s in need.”
Annabeth’s hands moved deftly, cleaning the wound further, her mind still reeling from the unsettling discovery of the wolfsbane. She glanced up at Murray, who was standing near the door, looking between her and the man on the bed.
“Murray,” Annabeth said quickly, “see to the horse and take care of it until he’s well enough. We cannae leave it roaming.”
He nodded without hesitation and made his way outside to the animal.
Claire, meanwhile, had set up a small station near the hearth and began pounding the clay into a thick paste.
“Come help me, Bruce,” she called out, her voice calm but urgent.
Bruce hurried over to her side, his brow furrowed as he took the bowl from Claire’s hands.
Together, they worked quickly, mixing the ingredients with practiced motions as Claire poured hot water into the kettle.
The room was filled with the sounds of the crackling fire and the quiet murmurs of Annabeth’s instructions, all of them working in unison to save the stranger in their care.
Annabeth worked with a steady rhythm, focused solely on the man’s survival. Her mind was still clouded with thoughts of wolfsbane, but she couldn’t afford to let that distract her. She glanced up from the wound to see Claire and Bruce working together with the tea and clay, moving with urgency.
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her composure, knowing that one wrong move could be the difference between life and death. She had been a healer long enough to trust her instincts, but this felt different—there was something strange about this man, and the poison coursing through his veins was not a typical village ailment.
As Annabeth continued her work, she could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her. The pressure to save the man, to keep the village safe, was overwhelming. But even in the midst of all the fear, there was something inside her that refused to give up.
I’ll see this through no matter who this man is.
She could feel the man’s life slipping through her fingers, but she refused to let him go without a fight.
