The infirmary
The trip back to the hall was slow in progression for fear of doing more harm to the injured shaman.
Arriving at the infirmary I order the aged man gently placed upon a waiting pallet. His eyes were closed but his breath steady, with any luck he would remain in that state until i can finish the task at hand.
Unbinding the wound I see little blood, but knew that would be short lived. Making haste I prepare what i would need to remove the imbedded arrow tip.
Ordering a good hot fire built and stoked I sanitize my knife in the flames. I order two stout guards to hold the old man still least he thrash in pain and cause further harm to himself. Pouring strong rum on the wound and my hands to wash away any impurities I slide the edge of my knife down along the arrows tip and use it as leverage to pry the tip from the old mans flesh.
Blood flows freely from the wound but not in great abundance, I gingerly probe the wound to be sure all the fragments are out. Washing the wound again with the strong drink I set my knife blade to the fire. The wound will need to be sealed. Mixing a paste of herbs and boiled water I wait for my knife to glow red in the hearth.
Giving further instruction to the guards "Hold him still, If he is to move now will be the time". With a final swipe of a cloth I set the red hot blade against the old mans skin searing the skin closed with the heat, steming the flow of blood. His body jerked in pain even in his state of unconsciousness. The acrid smell of burnt flesh tinges the air as I turn my head, my stomach revolting at what I must do. Washing the now burnt flesh with the boiled water I pack the wound with healing herbs and rebind it with fresh bandages. The task finished I again set my knife to the hearth
Dismissing the guards I sit with the old one for a time, a silent prayer sent up that no fever will set in. I have done all I can for the time.
The trip back to the hall was slow in progression for fear of doing more harm to the injured shaman.
Arriving at the infirmary I order the aged man gently placed upon a waiting pallet. His eyes were closed but his breath steady, with any luck he would remain in that state until i can finish the task at hand.
Unbinding the wound I see little blood, but knew that would be short lived. Making haste I prepare what i would need to remove the imbedded arrow tip.
Ordering a good hot fire built and stoked I sanitize my knife in the flames. I order two stout guards to hold the old man still least he thrash in pain and cause further harm to himself. Pouring strong rum on the wound and my hands to wash away any impurities I slide the edge of my knife down along the arrows tip and use it as leverage to pry the tip from the old mans flesh.
Blood flows freely from the wound but not in great abundance, I gingerly probe the wound to be sure all the fragments are out. Washing the wound again with the strong drink I set my knife blade to the fire. The wound will need to be sealed. Mixing a paste of herbs and boiled water I wait for my knife to glow red in the hearth.
Giving further instruction to the guards "Hold him still, If he is to move now will be the time". With a final swipe of a cloth I set the red hot blade against the old mans skin searing the skin closed with the heat, steming the flow of blood. His body jerked in pain even in his state of unconsciousness. The acrid smell of burnt flesh tinges the air as I turn my head, my stomach revolting at what I must do. Washing the now burnt flesh with the boiled water I pack the wound with healing herbs and rebind it with fresh bandages. The task finished I again set my knife to the hearth
Dismissing the guards I sit with the old one for a time, a silent prayer sent up that no fever will set in. I have done all I can for the time.
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