Chapter Four

Several minutes later, the situation looked even more hopeless to Tristan than it did before.

After checking on Siegfried's bandages again, he slowly crawled around the remains of the barn. Fortunately, it did not look like it would collapse further any time soon. Several broken beams and support pillars were still propping up what was left of the walls and roof.

Unfortunately, this also meant that the debris that was wedged in between these supports was firmly fastened into place. The only option left was to dig around the immovable piles of the ruins. However, even that wasn't entirely appealing to Tristan as he wasn't sure how much he could move the looser clumps of debris around without destabilizing those supports and bringing the roof down onto them.

Tristan eventually sat back on his haunches and heaved a huge sigh. As much as he didn't really want to start clearing out a passage that could easily end up burying him alive, he knew that he didn't have much choice. He had just started to weigh his options of where to start digging when the sound of movement caught his attention.

"Tristan? Tristan….where…?"

Tristan scampered over to Siegfried, relief flooding him as he heard his brother call for him and watched his eyes open.

"I'm right here, Siegfried," he assured him, placing a hand onto Siegfried's forearm. "Just relax and lie still, all right?"

Siegfried blinked several times and then let his head flop over to the side so he could face Tristan.

"What happened?"

Tristan let out a short laugh. "Don't you remember? A barn fell on us."

Siegfried sighed and made a show of slowly opening and closing his eyes, a gesture Tristan knew signaled exasperation.

"That's fairly obvious, wouldn't you say, Tristan? What I mean is, how did it happen? I, I seem to be having trouble recalling…."

Siegfried raised a shaky hand to his forehead, causing Tristan to frown. Siegfried sounded weak and disoriented. Not a good sign.

"It was that wretched horse," Tristan told him. "He must have shattered what was left of one of the main support beams when he kept thrashing about."

"Oh. Oh yes, that makes sense." Siegfried rubbed the side of his head. "That horse…did it make it out or is it trapped in here with us?"

Tristan's face twisted into a bitter smile. That was just like Siegfried: to worry about the horse while the two of them were the ones with all the problems.

"It's just fine," he answered. "Probably having a nice stroll out there while we're stuck in here."

Siegfried chuckled. "Tristan, really. It's not the horse's fault if you don't know how to handle it properly, now is it?"

Tristan scowled, but didn't argue. Despite all the anger and worry churning inside him, deep down, he did agree with Siegfried. It was just a dumb animal. An animal that was hurt and that had acted out of fear and pain. He couldn't really blame it for what happened.

Siegfried rubbed his face again before letting his hand drop down to the ground. He stared blankly into the distance for a moment and then finally turned his attention back toward Tristan.

"What about you? Are you all right?"

"Fine," Tristan said, trying to smile. "Just a little bruised up is all."

"Good, good," Siegfried said. Tristan's face fell again as he watched his elder brother furrow his brow, apparently struggling to find his words.

"Then why on Earth haven't you tried to get out of here yet?" Siegfried eventually said. "The rest of this barn could fall down on us at any minute."

"I don't think it's quite that bad yet. Besides, there's a bit of a problem with that, Siegfried."

"Problem? What problem?"

Siegfried started to try to sit up, but had only managed to raise his shoulders off the ground before his injuries caused him to groan and flop back down. He blinked owlishly as he studied the wreckage that was trapping his legs.

"Oh…oh I see," he mumbled. "But you…you said you were fine."

"Yes, just about I think."

"Then why aren't you trying to get out?" Siegfried repeated. "There's no point in both of us being trapped in here."

"I can't do that. Leave you here like this."

"My dear boy, you…."

Siegfried was cut off by another groan, his eyes clamping shut as he worked to steady his breathing.

Tristan clasped his brother's forearm a little tighter. "Siegfried…."

"I'm all right!" Siegfried snapped. "Don't fuss!" He took a couple more ragged breaths and then opened his eyes and sighed. "No. No, I suppose I'm not, am I? Tristan…how bad is it?"

Tristan described the wound he had bandaged along with all the other observations he had made about Siegfried's current state. Once Tristan was finished, Siegfried remained silent for another couple of minutes before finally speaking again.

"Our bags. Do you have them or were they buried underneath all this mess?"

"No, I've got them both," Tristan answered. "Rather a miracle that I was able to find them really."

"Water?"

"There's an old pump. I was able to get it working. The water isn't the best, but it's drinkable. Are you thirsty? I could get you some."

"Yes, that would be…." Siegfried suddenly shook his head emphatically. "No. No, you are going to need it. There should be enough materials left over from when we took care of those two unfortunate horses."

"Materials? Siegfried, what are you…?"

Suddenly, Tristan felt the blood drain from his face as he finally realized what Siegfried had in mind.

"Siegfried! Siegfried, I…I can't…."

"It's the only way," Siegfried insisted.

"But I'm not a doctor," Tristan said, his voice cracking. "I'm just a vet. I'm not even that. I'm not qualified, Siegfried."

"Tristan…." Siegfried paused and took a deep breath. "Tristan, listen to me. From what you've told me, that wound doesn't include anything vital, but it is still bleeding, correct?"

"Yes, but…."

"No! For once, be quiet and listen to me," Siegfried snapped. "Tristan I, I am feeling…rather off-color…and I'm sure it will get worse unless the bleeding is stopped. Now, I…I know you have a steady hand and are quite nimble with your suturing. I've seen it plenty of times. You will just have to put those skills to use here."

"But Siegfried, that was with animals, not people," Tristan said, his voice going up an octave. "And, and I couldn't give you anything. You know, for while I'm doing it. Nothing we have would be safe."

Siegfried closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "I…am…aware of that…Tristan. But it, it doesn't change the facts at hand." He moaned again and then opened his eyes, making sure to meet Tristan's gaze. "You are going to have to clean and close that wound."

Tristan felt his insides quake. "Even if I could, Siegfried, I'm sure you'll get an infection and…."

"And if you don't, I'll likely bleed to death before that would even matter," Siegfried cut in. "At least…at least this way, we'd have some time."

Tristan bowed his head. He tried to swallow several times, but could only barely manage it around the lump forming in his throat.

"I…I can't, Siegfried…I…."

A cool and slightly clammy hand patted one of Tristan's, causing him to look up and see Siegfried staring at him, a weak smile on his face.

"My dear Tristan, I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think you could." Siegfried gently curled his fingers around Tristan's. "You must try."

Tristan felt his heart twist again, but nodded his head.

"All right. I'll try."

"Are you still sure about this, Siegfried?"

Tristan watched as Siegfried slowly opened his eyes again and looked around the barn, apparently gathering his thoughts.

A bucket of water was sitting on the ground next to where Tristan was kneeling. He had washed his hands and the instruments as best he could. He had also pulled Siegfried's jacket and shirt away from the wound. The bandages he had put on earlier were already saturated with blood, strengthening Siegfried's argument that the wound needed to be closed as soon as possible.

"Yes. Yes, get on with it," Siegfried replied, his voice growing raspy.

Tristan nodded and rinsed his hands one more time before walking on his knees even closer to his elder brother. He checked his instruments again and threaded the suture needle he was going to use before sitting it aside in the bag. He started to reach down to remove the bandages covering the wound when he hesitated.

Siegfried cocked his head slightly, a quizzical look on his face. "What is it?"

Tristan began looking around at the piles of wood before finally settling on an old twig he found next to their equipment bags. He picked it up and held it out to Siegfried.

"I thought….well, that maybe you'd rather….you know…."

Siegfried squinted at him for a few seconds until understanding finally came to him.

"Yes. Yes, of course. That would be better."

He took the stick from Tristan's hand and placed it between his teeth. Then he raised his arms over his head and firmly grasped a smashed wheel from a plow that had rusted and warped out of shape. He gave one last curt nod to Tristan and closed his eyes.

Tristan gave him a nod of his own and began. He peeled the bloody bandages away and washed the wound and the area around it as best he could. Then he carefully tweezed away a few large splinters that had gotten into the gash and gently swabbed antiseptic onto the wound. Once he had finished and had cleaned away some loose tissue and additional blood, Tristan began to suture the torn flesh together.

Throughout this, Tristan refused to look at Siegfried's face. Not that it mattered. As soon as he had started cleaning the wound, he heard the groans and cries of pain that were only muffled by Siegfried clamping down on that stick. There were a couple of times when Siegfried shuddered and squirmed slightly, but overall, he had remained still enough for Tristan to work. Remarkable really, given the circumstances.

A chill spread through Tristan, but he ignored it as best he could. He had to concentrate. He simply could not allow himself to think too much about what he was doing. About the suffering he was surely inflicting onto Siegfried. Instead, Tristan let himself drift away until the only thought in his mind was the task at hand. He couldn't hear Siegfried anymore. Couldn't see his brother's agonized reactions to this makeshift surgery.

His mind moved back to his days in veterinary college. To his first surgeries carried out during fieldwork while under the watchful eyes of his professors and his brother. This was just another assignment he needed to complete. That was all.

Soon, it didn't even feel like he was the one performing the surgery after all. It was as if Tristan was watching someone else carefully suture the wound closed. Whoever it was, Tristan couldn't help but admire their work. Yes, this was a first-rate job of stitching, something Siegfried would appreciate if he could see it. Surely, this animal, whatever it was, would be just fine.

Once the last suture was in place, Tristan slowly put the needle aside and reached for the bottle of iodine. It wasn't until it was in his hands that he suddenly blinked and looked at what he was holding, confused. He didn't remember grabbing this bottle. How did it get into his hand?

Then he looked down at Siegfried and was shocked to see that the job was done.

Tristan's stomach churned, but he made sure to keep his nausea under control while he rubbed some more antiseptic around the stitches. Then he carefully bandaged the wound again, making it as tight as he would dare. He was sure that the bleeding would stop now, but there was still the risk of infection. Not to mention anything that he might have done wrong while he was poking around in there.

He pulled down Siegfried's shirt and jacket again, making sure to keep the fabrics loose around the bandages. It was then that he noticed how still and quiet his brother had become.

Tristan felt his heart jump into his throat. He pressed his brother's neck several times in search of a pulse, gasping for relief once he had found it. Siegfried must have passed out at some point during the surgery, but he was horrified to realize that he had no idea when it could have happened.

The stick was dangling between Siegfried's lips while his arms hung limply over his head. After another unsteady breath, Tristan took the stick out of his brother's mouth, noting the deep grooves and cracks that were now in it before tossing it as far as he could. Then he drew Siegfried's arms back to his sides. A couple drops of blood fell from one of Siegfried's hands as he did it.

Tristan's eyebrows scrunched down as he examined Siegfried's hand. For a second, he wondered what could have caused this, but then he discovered half-moon shaped marks all along the palm and blood on his brother's fingernails.

Tristan felt his eyes burn as he pulled out a piece of cotton from one of the bags, wet it down, and then brushed the blood away. He finished up with another drop of iodine and wrapped some gauze around Siegfried's hand.

When he was done, he continued to hold Siegfried's hand in both of his, his fingers gliding along the sides of the palm.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Siegfried. I…."

Tristan felt his throat close up again and fell silent. Siegfried remained unresponsive, and Tristan figured that it was best to let him rest for now.

He gingerly placed Siegfried's hand on the ground and scanned the area around them. There were discarded bandages and bits of gauze and cotton that were caked with blood. The instruments he had used were also covered with it. Then he looked down with detached interest at his own red, sticky hands.

Tristan closed his eyes. He really should clean all this up. And wash his hands. It wasn't good to leave blood all over the place. Tristan decided that he should take care of it right away.

And he would too, as soon as he could stop shaking so much.