Hi guys. With school approaching, my updates will become more sporadic. I'm hoping to finish this story before my semester begins in September but we'll just have to see how everything goes. Enjoy!
Daisy trekked through the night, her angry feet digging up the vestiges of the bitter autumn rain. She had left Cap in the small cave, his body crumbling upon hers in a bout of exhaustion and pain. He was coherent, but Daisy thought that the blood oozing from his wound was spilling forth at an alarming rate. She likened the stain to the red hand of the devil, the branches like fingers inching their way towards Cap's heart. Such a thought spurned Daisy on, through the weariness, through the doubt, through the all-encompassing worry.
She pitched her voice high and clear above the sheets of rain, the dangerous hunters from minutes before now all but forgotten. Anyone was better than no one; any help was better than Cap's death. Thunder shook the ground and bright flickers of lightning threw the world into blinding white that stung Daisy's eyes. During one particularly long flash, Daisy surveyed the acres of trees and land that spread out before her and caught sight of a yellow blaze off in the distance. Another bolt confirmed her suspicion: it was a lamp glowing in the window of a small cottage. Daisy ran towards the building manically, half with joy, half with fear. She didn't know what manner of person would open the door, only that she had to knock for Cap's sake.
Daisy pounded on the splintered surface until the door opened. A tall man stood in the threshold holding an oil lamp. He was older, perhaps the same age as Daisy's Pa, with a brown beard down to his chest and two eyes like black coal. He looked Daisy up and down, absorbing her soaked hair, her drenched clothes, the desperation that danced in her green eyes. His mouth fell open in something between shock and concern.
"Please, sir," Daisy began, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. "Please, my…husband has been shot!" She could not say why she had called Cap her husband as opposed to her brother or friend. She only knew that it felt right to say so. "Will you please help me? He's just down the hill!" Daisy was crying freely now, waiting for the man's response. He studied her for another long moment before nodding his head once.
"Show me where he is," the man said quietly as he reached for his coat.
Daisy could have fallen at his feet sobbing, thanking him profusely for his kindness. As it stood, she could do little more than guide him through the rain back to where Cap lay huddled in a ball, trying his best to stay out of the storm. Daisy knew that she must have looked a fearful sight, covered head to toe in mud and rain and little else save the tatters of her underclothes. But she would never have guessed so by Cap's reaction. When he saw her jogging towards him, his face broke open in a wide smile and Daisy could not stop herself from returning the smile, their eyes locked in something foreign to the man that trailed behind Daisy.
Without a word the stranger gently hoisted Cap up by his arm and instructed Daisy to do the same on the opposite side. Together the three of them made slow progress through the slick mud and blinding downpour. When at last they returned to the man's house, the inside was sparse, containing little more than a small stove, a worn bed, and an old wood table with mismatched chairs. There were several oil lamps lined up in a row on a shelf above the table, all of them lit to illuminate the work that the man had been doing before Daisy had interrupted. Suddenly Daisy understood two truths: the flame that guided her here had only been so bright because of the number of lamps. Had it been a single lamp, she would have been unable to see it in the dark. And judging by the instruments strewn across the tabletop, Daisy deduced that this man was some sort of surgeon. Silently Daisy spun her eyes upwards, sending out a quiet thanks to whoever had been looking out for her and Cap.
The man and Daisy tried their best to lay Cap gently upon the bed, but the motion only served to perpetuate his injury. He winced in pain, his forehead covered in a mixture of sweat and rain water, and Daisy found herself doing the same, nearly overcome with grief at seeing him in such a state.
"I need you to step back, Miss," the man said to Daisy without meeting her eye. His hands moved quickly but methodically, snapping open his doctor's bag, tearing Cap's shirt down the middle, forcing Cap to drink what Daisy thought to be very strong whiskey. With Cap's belly now exposed, Daisy could better see the wound that glittered in the lamplight. It was black in the middle of his side, radiating outwards to a watered-down and pale red. Daisy gasped at the sight, taking small steps closer to the carnage.
"Miss, please," the man said again, this time holding up an arm between Cap and herself. A sound came from Cap and Daisy almost choked. He was laughing!
"I reckon there ain't much point in tellin' this one what to do," Cap joked, his face half grimace, half grin. "She ain't one for listenin'."
Daisy could have kicked Cap for joking at a time like this, but when she saw the seriousness in his face and the way the flames flickered in his intent expression, she could only nod in agreement.
"You heard the man," she said, grabbing hold of Cap's hand and squeezing it tight until it was the same shade of white as his eye. "Now I suggest you get to work unless you want him to bleed to death on your bed."
The doctor huffed and sighed but said no more. He bent his head to his task, cleaning and sterilizing the wound with more whiskey before pulling a gruesome pair of silver pliers from his bag. They reminded Daisy of the medieval torture devices she had read of and she cringed at the memory. Cap's eyes held the same concern and Daisy tried her best to pull his attention towards her, cooing to him, rubbing his head like a mother to a sick child. But her mothering was no match for the pain as the doctor dug the tool deep into the wound to fish out the bullet. Cap's head rolled to the side of the pillow and his mouth fell slack.
"He passed out! What do we do?" Daisy was frantic with worry but the doctor remained calm and still.
"I reckon that's for the best," the doctor answered as he pulled the bullet free and held it up in the light. It was almost beautiful, like a jewel excavated from the belly of a bloody beast. Daisy's stomach turned at the sight, even as her eyes drank in the morbid beauty. The doctor dropped the bullet on the nightstand with a small clunk like a coin fallen to the floor during church, a small sound magnified in the reverential silence.
Daisy could smell the bitterness of the wound mingling with the oil from the lamps, and as the doctor pulled a jar from his bag, she picked up on another strong odor. It was a paste that reeked of greenness: of moss and dead leaves and something strong and sterile. Slowly the doctor spread the paste over the hole in Cap's side and then wrapped the wound in a thick cloth bandage. He pulled back from his work, breathing heavily as drops of sweat pooled on his upper lip. He looked even older under the pressure of the task.
"Will he be OK?" Daisy asked, still clutching Cap's limp hand to her chest. The strange man looked up at her, his expression unreadable.
"We'll have to wait and see," he replied, his eyes softening to a dark brown. Daisy thought that this man must have been handsome in his youth. She began to wonder why a good-looking doctor was living alone in such Spartan conditions. "He's out of the woods for now."
"Thank you," Daisy said dumbly, looking down upon Cap's face. He seemed so peaceful, so innocent, deep inside of his own darkness.
"Come on," the doctor said as he wrung his hands on a cloth and stood from the stool he had taken beside Cap. He walked around the bed to where Daisy stood and slowly freed her hand from Cap's. "Let's get a drink. You look like Hell."