Wulfham
Brand was barely aware as someone leveraged him up from his blankets to a sitting position and spoke to him. He could barely make out the words at first, but they were spoken in a soft voice, and he was very glad of that. His head was pounding from the fall he’d taken when the cougar landed on him. Brand struggled to open his eyes and he groaned as he raised his fingers to the back of his head, to the large knot there.
‘Drink this!’ he heard the voice urge him. It was a sharp taste on his tongue as he took a swallow of the warm tea. Willow bark! ‘Good!’ he said, his own voice barely above a whisper; the loudness of it as it rattled about his head made him wince again.
He took the cup in his hands, sipping at the brew. There was a bulky bandage of sorts on his left forearm he noted, and then recalled how the cat had clawed him. The gouges stung beneath the strips of cloth and he wondered if they would leave scars. Worse yet was his face. The right side of it felt on fire and the eye was swollen shut. Brand fingered the bandage that had been secure there. It seemed a little west, and drawing his finger tips away from it he noted they were stained with dark blood.
A grim laugh escaped him, causing him to groan again at the movement of his face. A bit of dark humor in the midst of present pain. Seeing as how he would most likely be scarred, perhaps his sisters would give up their quest to find a suitable wife for him. ‘Now that I am no longer suitable,’ he said to himself, ‘perhaps they will leave me be!’
He asked after Lady. And being told she seemed to have fared better than he, he heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Wake me at first light, then,’ he said. ‘We should get an early start.’ His voice trailed off as he lay back down; soon he was asleep.
-----
Next day . . .
He felt warm as he threw off his blankets. Opening his eyes, he could see the sun was shining brightly and already stood at the mid-day position. Brand raised himself up on one elbow and yelled out, ‘Hey!’ He was about to chastise his companions for letting him sleep when his head began to throb and his wounds ache. Brand lowered his voice and waved to someone on the other side of the fire. ‘Any of that willow bark tea left?’ he asked instead. ‘And am I still dreaming or do I smell something roasting over the fire?’
His belly rumbled hungrily with no accompanying wave of nausea. A good sign, he thought . . .
|