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He laughs and gives up. "Do you feel better?"
I shrug, because my leg still feels as if it's on fire. I'm trying to pretend it doesn't exist, but if I twitch and it touches something, white-hot pain shoots up my leg, so I'm trying really, really hard to stay still. "I'll manage."
"Water?"
I nod, glancing over at Pak. He beams at me in what might be the cutest grin ever and offers up the half-empty waterskin. I take it hesitantly. One look around the cave shows me that there's no water here, which means this is all we've got unless someone goes out to get more. "Should we ration this?"
Juth makes a drinking gesture.
I offer it to him first. "You went and got it. You should drink."
He shakes his head. "I drank when I filled up. This is for you and Pak."
"Oh. Okay." I take a small sip and the water is cold and wonderful and the best thing I've ever tasted. I bite back a whimper of pleasure and take another sip, and then another. I want to drink the entire contents of the skin, but I force myself to close it again and hand it back. "Thank you."
"Now your pants," he tells me. "I must see your wound." His gaze meets mine. "If it is very bad, we must set the bones before they knit improperly. "
Oh god, that sounds awful. I shake my head.
"Yes," he says. "We must. We cannot let it heal poorly." He tugs at the belt he wears—the only stitch of clothing—and pulls out a small stone knife made from what looks like a chip of rock. "We will cut your furs off and see how bad the leg is."
I'm a little panicked at the thought. "No, it's fine. There's a healer back at the other camp."
"Good," Juth says, clearly not understanding me. "We are agreed."
He puts his knife to my waist and begins to cut through layers of leather. Leather that takes endless hours to make from skins, leather that takes even more hours to stitch into clothing. It feels incredibly wasteful, and I want to complain, but my leg is starting to feel like hot lava. Juth cuts my belt loose and my pants sag just a little, the leather material shifting, and it brushes against my foot. I cry out, unable to keep the sound back.
Juth freezes, looking up at me.
"Sorry," I whimper. "It's fine. It's fine. It's just a sprain."
He sets down his knife, then reaches out and touches my cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. "It will be worse before it gets better, but you must be strong."
A choked laugh escapes me. "You're not supposed to tell me that. You're supposed to tell me it'll be okay."
His mouth twitches at my response, as if he's going to smile, and then Juth holds out a plant. It's leaves and roots and all, something I've seen the others collecting when they go herb gathering. "Chew on these leaves," he tells me. "It makes the pain go distant."
Don't have to tell me twice. I shove the entire plant up to my face, whimpering when he picks the knife up again. I know I'm being a baby and he's just cutting my pants, but I'm not good with pain. Not in the slightest.
"You're eating it wrong," Pak says with a giggle. "Leaves only. Papa, look at how silly she is."
Pak's comments make my mood lighten a little, and I grin at him from a mouthful of leaves. "Tastes awful," I agree. "But at least you guys are talking to me now." The medicinal taste coats my tongue, making it tingly. The blood rushes through me and my head swims pleasantly. Oooh. I've never taken these herbs before but now I feel…real nice. I lean back against the rocks and lift the hunk of roots to my mouth, nibbling on what's left of the leaves again. "Muuuuch better."
Juth watches me with one arm propped up on his knee, waiting patiently for me to, I dunno, get high as a kite before he cuts again. His dick is practically staring me down, too. Like, it's just RIGHT THERE between his parted legs, all ribs and spur and all kinds of nonsense.
"You have enormous balls," I feel I should point out, and then I giggle to myself, because I'm either drunk or stoned and I absolutely do not care. "Man, I feel good. Is my ankle fucked up?"
I lift the plant to my mouth again and Juth extracts it from my grip. "Perhaps that is enough for you. You are small, so perhaps a small dose, yes?"
"God bless your heart," I tell him, reaching out to pinch his cheek. "Calling me small. You're wrong, but I still appreciate it."
He reaches for my pants, watching me carefully before cutting again.
