A/N: Hi guys! I've been trying to update this story more often... I've done a bang up job so far, haven't I?! Lol, enjoy.
*Chanelx is my muse!*
Horace was sitting at the table sharpening his sword. He sighed sadly. Will was looking worse by the day. He hoped Halt would return soon... Gilan walked our of Halt's room with a yawn. He had bloodshot eyes with dark circles under them. He sat at the table and put his head down, his eyes drifting closed and his breath evening out.
"Well good morning to you too." Horace laughed, running a hand through his friend's blonde hair.
Gilan whined and batted at his hand, murmuring something about black bears.
"Did you not get any sleep?" He asked.
"Nooo..." Came the tired reply.
Horace chuckled and asked, "How's Will?"
Gilan sat up and glared at him. "Why do you think I was up all night?!"
Horace shrugged and went to look for food. He was so hungry... That's when he heard it. Hoofbeats. And they were getting closer at a rapid pace. He grabbed his sword and rushed to the door. He stopped in his tracks at the sight that met his eyes. It was Halt, covered in blood that looked like it was coming from his arm, which was wrapped tightly with a piece of his cloak. He rushed over to help him, dropping his sword in the process. Malcolm, who had been alerted by the noise, came out the door, then rushed back in to get his medical supplies ready at the sight of Halt.
Horace barely made it in time to catch Halt before he slipped from the saddle, unconscious. Abelard was freaking out, neighing and rearing up. Gilan ran out and, knowing that he could take care of Halt, grabbed Abelard's bridle and started talking to him and patting his nose. Once Abelard had calmed down a bit, he slowly led him to the lean-to to get him cleaned up and get him some food. Horace looked at Halt's arm, but couldn't tell how bad it was yet. He picked him up and hurried back to the house, grabbing his sword on the way there. When they got inside, Malcolm already had everything set up and was waiting for him. The healer beckoned him over and gestured to the cot.
"Set him there." He said, getting a disinfectant ready.
Horace gently set him down and slid the belt that held his saxe and throwing knives in it off. He didn't want Halt to mistake them for anyone else and stab one of them... Malcolm removed the piece of cloak from his arm and could tell it was infected just from the smell. He cut more of the cloak away to get at the wound. It smelled putrid and looked even worse. Pus oozed out of the wound, as well as blood. There was dirt and grime all around it, as well as in it. It looked awful.
"Ugh. That smells horrid..." Horace muttered.
Malcolm ignored him and slid a needle for an IV into Halt's uninjured arm. There was antibiotics in the IV, to help fight off the infection. He leaned forward and felt his forehead. He was burning up.
"Horace, go get a bucket and a washcloth. We need to get his fever down."
He nodded and ran off to do as he was told. Malcolm sighed and poured disinfectant on the wound. Halt moaned in pain, but otherwise didn't react. It didn't take long to get it cleaned out, and when he did, he was horrified to see teeth marks in the deep wound and was worried about rabies. That had killed off so many people and if the animal that bit Halt had it, he might as well be a dead man walking. He pushed his worry aside for now and threaded a needle. The wound needed stitches.
Horace came back with the stuff he had asked for and he instructed him to dab at Halt's face, neck and chest with the washcloth. He nodded and got to work on lowering his fever, while Malcolm started stitching. When the needle went through, Halt stirred and whined through his teeth. He kept going, trying to work quickly but carefully. Halt continued to whine, but didn't do anything else... until the sixth stitch. He pulled his arm away from Malcolm, nearly tearing his stitches out even though they weren't all in yet.
"Halt, sit still!" Malcolm pleaded, pulling his arm back into his lap and holding it there.
On the seventh stitch, he flinched and a tear rolled down his cheek. He was almost done, just a few more... After a few minutes, Gilan returned and sat down.
"Is he gonna be okay?" He asked, his voice filled to the brim with concern.
"Yes, as long as the infection goes away." Malcolm replied, applying a salve the to the wound before wrapping Halt's forearm in clean gauze.
They sat in silence for a few moments before something came to their minds.
"Wait, did he get the antidote?!" Gilan asked, looking down at Halt.
He didn't wait for an answer before he started to pat down his pockets. Nothing was there. He nearly stopped breathing in panic. No no no... Horace came over and grabbed Halt's uninjured hand and pried it open with difficulty. There in his palm, sat a vial that said 'antidote' on it. They had never been so relieved to see that word in their lives. Malcolm examined it and retrieved a syringe, then withdrew some of the amber colored liquid from the vial. He tapped the syringe a few times to get rid of any air bubbles before heading to Halt's room.
When he entered, Will was curled up on the bed sleeping peacefully. He quietly crept over to him and grabbed his arm and injected the antidote into him. Will, who had been sedated earlier, didn't react. Not that he had expected him to, but it was almost sad, the way he didn't react as he usually would have. He just looked so... lifeless. After watching him for a few minutes to make sure nothing went wrong, he left the room and shut the door behind himself. Gilan and Horace looked at him, waiting for answers.
"We'll know if it worked when he wakes up." He said, cleaning all the medical supplies up.
They sighed in unison and Horace stood.
"Do you want me to move him to a bed?" He asked, gesturing to the unconscious Halt.
Malcolm nodded and continued to clean.
"Just be careful not to rip the IV out." He warned.
Horace picked Halt up, careful of his arm, and brought him to Will's old room because Will was currently in his room. He set him down and covered him up with a blanket, making sure he hadn't accidentally ripped the IV out before leaving the room. When he reached the living room, Gilan was passed out on the couch. He had no idea where Malcolm had gone. He smiled and gently laid him down, covering him with a blanket as well. He watched him sleep for a few moments to make sure he would be okay, before heading outside. He sat on the veranda and sighed.
Now all they could do was wait.
A/N: Hehehe, that sucked. Sorry peoples... please review? I love you guys... byebye! ;)