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Greta felt a surge of alarm go through her, and she speedily went to him to feel the pulse on his neck since she knew that people had been known to die of pain. Fortunately, it was strong and steady, and she could see that Finn had lost consciousness, so at least he was in no pain.
Now, at least she could begin to repair the damage. Tentatively, she unwound the bandage, which was not an easy task since she had to partially roll him over, first one way, then the other, to see what she had to deal with. He weighed a ton, she thought ruefully. He was made of solid muscle.
Greta breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that the wound that Liam had given him was not deep, and unless it became infected, Greta did not think it would be life-threatening. However, she could see the amount of distress he was in by the agonized expression on his face, even while he was unconscious.
Greta had no sewing tools with her, but she did have the knowledge of how to carve a needle out of wood, a skill she had learned from her father, who had stitched up wounds on many animals and even the odd farmer!
As well as that, new clothes were expensive, so she had to constantly mend the ones she had. She could use the needle and thread to mend both flesh and fabric, she thought. She carved the needle from a twig with the knife she used for butchering rabbits and with the benefit of the ease of long practice. After that, she examined the injury carefully. It was a relatively long slash, perhaps three inches in length, but fortunately, it had stopped bleeding.
Greta left Finn lying with the wound open to the air for a while, then she made a fire and went down to the burn that ran past their campsite to collect some water with the little tin pot that Finn had given her. Having done that, she set it to heat on the fire so that she could clean the wound, then she went to collect some mushrooms from under the trees. She had some bread and cheese in her satchel, but she knew that they would never be enough for a man the size of Finn.
She needed something else, so she took the only other weapon she had from her satchel—a catapult which she had made herself—and went into the shrubbery by the edge of the forest. After twenty minutes, she came back with a large rabbit, then sat beside Finn again.
She threaded her needle with a thread she had pulled from the edge of the blanket, and after washing the cut, began to stitch the sides together, watching Finn’s face to check that she was not hurting him. He did not move a muscle. She had stitched cuts on cows and pigs before, and Greta reflected that this was much easier. His skin was smooth and not as thick as an animal’s, although she had only been able to do a very crude job and knew that the injury would leave a dreadful scar.
Eventually, she bandaged him up again, then she skinned and butchered the rabbit and cut it into pieces to stew over the fire, tipping the mushrooms in to give it extra flavor, then she waited.
By the time the rabbit had cooked a little while later, Greta was beginning to worry. Finn had shown no signs of awakening, and she wondered if his injury was more serious than she had thought at first. She patted his face softly, then a little harder until she was sure that she was causing him pain.
“Wake up, Finn!” she said desperately. “Ye must wake up. I cannae carry ye!” Later, she would never know if he had been responding to her or not, but his eyes fluttered open and he looked at her directly.
“Greta,” he murmured. “What happened? Where are we?”
“Liam wounded ye, remember?” she reminded him. “I brought ye here because it is no’ far from Laird Mackay’s castle, an’ I think we can ask for his help. But ye need tae rest. How are ye feelin’?”
“Better,” he replied, “but still quite sore. What did ye do to me?”
“Cleaned an’ stitched up your injury,” she answered.
“Stitched up?” he asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Ye mean, sewed me up?”
“Aye.” She nodded, grinning as she took in the look of astonishment on his face.
“Where did ye learn tae do that?” He sat up and looked around him, then his eyes moved back to her face.
“I learned to do it when I helped my da on the farm,” she answered. “Sometimes animals hurt themselves, an’ we could no’ just slaughter them, so we would stitch them up. They did no’ like it much, but the cuts mostly healed an’ they were fine. I think ye will be too.”
“I am sure I will,” he said thankfully. “Is it serious?”
Greta looked at his anxious face and smiled. “No. It is a big cut but no’ deep,” she answered. “In a few days, ye will be fine as long as ye can keep it clean, though I think ye will always have a scar.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I think I can bear that!” he declared. “At least I will still have my life!”
“An’ ladies like scars on a man,” Greta remarked. “It is a sign o’ bravery.”
“Or foolishness.” Finn shook his head in self-reproach. “I should no’ have let Liam near me. I know how vicious he can be. I was takin’ a chance an’ it was stupid, but I had tae stop him, an’ I had never seen that wee sword before. He must have stole it.” He sighed.
“Thank ye for savin’ my life,” she said fervently, as she caught his hands in hers.
“I think we are even,” he laughed. “Ye saved mine too.”
“Yers is a flesh wound. Liam was plannin’ tae end my life!” Greta shuddered at the thought.
“Mine too!” Finn replied, then he laughed. “Let us no’ argue about it. What is that lovely smell? It is makin’ my mouth water.”
“It is stewed rabbit an’ mushrooms,” Greta answered.
“How did ye kill a rabbit?” Finn was mystified until Greta held up the catapult. He stared at her in amazement. “Woman, is there anythin’ ye cannae do?”
