He grinned at her, then winced as she dabbed a finger upon the deep cut on his chest.
She said, “You will need stitches on this particular mark, as well as the one on your arm.”
He looked down at his chest. Then, glancing up at her, he asked, “Do you know how to do it?”
“No, not really. But, I have watched another do it at the inn. I think I might be able to sew these up, if I can only find the right material to use as thread.”
“Sinew from the deer can be used once my wounds are cleaned, and a piece of bone might be made into a point so as to poke holes in the skin to pull the thread through. Did you spit on the wound yet?”
“Of course I have not spit on it. I know better than to—“
Bending over double, Skenan spit onto the wounds himself, leaving Abagail to watch, gaping. She said, “It is not good to use spit on a wound. It is said there is something in the mouth that—.”
Skenan grinned at her. “Nyoh,and there are other good things there, too.”
She shook her head, but held her tongue.
He was frowning, however. At length, he said, “I doubt we have the right roots and herbs to put on the wound to prevent infection, as you say. But, there is water close by, and it can be boiled and placed on the wound to speed its healing.”
“Do you have anything I might collect the water in?” she asked.
“I have several bags, there by the fire.” He nodded in the direction of the fire. “There is also a large hollowed-out rock thatcan be used to gather the water and boil it. Do not let the fire go out. If it looks as if the fire is dying while you are getting the water, return here to rekindle it.”
“Yes, I will,” she said.
He breathed in deeply and settled back onto the bedding of pine boughs and deerskin. “I will reload my gun while you are gone. Are you a good cook?”
“Yes, I think I am, though I am uncertain what foods you might like.”
“I will enjoy whatever it is you serve me,” he said. “It is perhaps true for me to say that I will need your skills while I recover.”
“I will do my best.”
“If you encounter any trouble getting the water, signal me with a cry, high-pitched and loud. I will rouse myself and come to your aid.”
“Thank you, but I do not think it will be necessary.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back, full form and closed his eyes; she could see he was quickly asleep.
Fetching the water was easy, but what was she to use to boil the water? She looked around the cave, at last deciding the smoked and toughened rawhide bags that Skenan used would have to do. Heating the stones as she had seen Skenan do last night, she threw them into the water which appeared to be as good as boiling the water over a fire.
It was not the easiest way to go about fixing food, but at least the two of them would be able to eat. It could be worse. The important point was that they were alive. Yes, it could be worse.
Straightening her shoulders, she set about locating the sinew Skenan had mentioned. With both it and a knife, she would be able to perform the necessary surgery to his chest.
Hopefully, her hand would be steady.
What do you mean there is nothing to numb the pain? Are there no roots I can dig, no plants that will deaden the nerves, even a little?”
“There is nothing.”
“But if I am to cut into you, there should be something to ease the trauma.”
Skenan’s look at her was cautious, but surprised. He said, “There are herbs and plants that might do this, but there is not the time to find and gather them and then to prepare them for use. We will do without them.”
Do without them? Abagail didn’t think so. “Am I to presume you intend to remain awake while I poke holes in your skin? And also while I am to sew up the slash upon your arm, as well as the injury on your chest?
“Nyoh, yes, that is exactly what I have in mind.”
