Chapter Six: Self-Treatment

Drifting in and out of a half doze, Moonshadow woke to find his hoof throbbing, though still not as badly as before. The salve the fox had used was cool and soothing, but he wished it had been an astringent he could feel working. You couldn't take chances with hoof infections; too easily they became dangerous so that amputation was necessary to save the victim's life. He shuddered at the thought of a Fox's method of amputation; he had heard of trapped wild creatures chewing off their own leg, and surely it would be far worse to have to watch as someone else did it. He shivered, unsure whether it was from cold or the thought of sharp fox's teeth, and the Tree pressed its leafy branches closer.

And what kind of life would it be for a three-legged centaur, anyway? If it had been a foreleg, he might possibly be able to manage with a crutch, though he would never again be a respected healer, but a centaur missing his hind hoof might as well be dead.

Where had that Fox gone to, anyway? Perhaps he did bear a grudge after all; why else would he have stayed for hours with a mere skunk, but deserted a centaur? It was no less than Moonshadow had done himself, but it felt different now that he was the patient, and he had certainly never left without someone to tend the patient in his absence. He barely counted the Tree, seeing a vast difference between it and his own dryad nurse.

The Fox had at least seemed to know what it was doing, he admitted grudgingly, though he wished that it had bled him. But of course, it wouldn't have known to; it had received all its "training" from the Book of Healing, which made no mention of bleeding to let out infection.

Even had he been completely coherent, it never would have occurred to him that that might possibly mean the treatment was useless or worse; he would have assumed no one had bothered to include such a basic treatment that everyone had learned from his mentor anyway. After all, the Book had never been intended as a basic primer.

But he could bleed himself, Moonshadow realized. It was believed to be more effective when done close to the site of the infection, but when for various reasons that was impractical, the centaurs felt the wrist to be an acceptable alternative. He didn't have his surgical blades with him, but though silver was deemed best for a healer's knives, there was no particular reason that he knew of; surely the utility knife he carried would do as well.

He twisted to retrieve it from his pack, ignoring the Tree's admonitions to lie still; when it saw he was determined, it pushed the pack where he could more easily reach inside.

Whhyy…? it questioned on seeing what he had been so eager to obtain. Barely recognizing the word as more than a rustling of leaves, Moonshadow paid it no heed, testing the knife against his finger before pressing the sharpened blade to his wrist.

oOo

Rawlstow trotted through the forest, the corners of two blankets held firmly in his mouth, the blankets themselves draped across his back.

As he topped a small rise he saw the Tree, its branches extending up as far as it could reach, every leaf quivering.

Something was wrong, the Fox realized instantly, though he was too far yet to hear his name in the sound of the rustling branches. He instantly quickened his pace to a smooth lope, the fastest he dared go without risking tangling himself up in the blankets. Within five minutes, he was arriving at the clearing.

"Wh' happened?" he demanded, dropping the blankets and springing up to the root that served him as a stool. Blood streamed down one of the centaur's wrists, he saw; both were grasped firmly by the Tree's branches while the centaur struggled ineffectually to free himself and reach the knife that lay on the ground.

Trrriiedd tooo kiilll selllff…

"No," Moonshadow insisted. "Have to bleed — let out poison —"

"B'still!" Rawlstow ordered, his bark so sharp that the centaur obeyed without thinking.

"Th'wound may well need t'b'drained again," the Fox healer went on more gently. "But not a' blood, an' cuttin' yer wrist does ye no good." He jumped down for a moment to grab one of the blankets, tenderly tucking the woollen folds over the centaur's shoulders.

"Now, let m'see that wrist."

Moonshadow made no resistance as the Tree supported his wrist for Rawlstow to examine; strangely, he felt now that the Fox did indeed know what it was doing. Perhaps it was partly the comforting warmth of the blanket giving him a feeling of safety, or the confident authority in the Fox's voice that offered more comfort than most centaur healers were wont to give.

Licking the blood away, Rawlstow saw that though the cut was deep, the gold armband the centaur had apparently forgotten he was wearing had prevented it from going dangerously into the artery.

With surprisingly little trouble, Rawlstow's claw found the hidden catch on the armband and slipped it off the centaur's wrist.

Even now, Moonshadow was faintly surprised at the competence with which Rawlstow tended his wrist, and the neatness of the bandage he wrapped around it. He had nearly forgotten now that the wound was self-inflicted, and that the Tree and the Fox together had stopped the bleeding before it could serve its intended purpose.

When he had finished, Rawlstow tucked the golden armband into the centaur's pack. "Best t'leave that off until yer wrist heals up," he told him. "An' now, let's see how yer doin'."

Perched once more on his root, he again checked Moonshadow's temperature and heartbeat, then mixed another dose for him to drink.

"Hoof…hurts…" Moonshadow told him, the edge of fear in his voice over what the increasing pain might mean. "Have to…bleed…"

"Let m'see t'it," Rawlstow answered soothingly, not bothering to argue again that he had no intention of bleeding him.

Unwrapping the hoof, he found that the hole had sealed itself and the fluid was again building up.

With a thin blade, Rawlstow reopened the wound, as neatly as Moonshadow himself had ever bled a patient. Perhaps after all having an amputation performed by a Fox wouldn't be so fearsome a thing…

"There," Rawlstow murmured, once more dressing and bandaging the wound. "I'll check it again in an hour or two t'see if it needs t'b'drained again; let me know if th'pain gets worse b'fore then."

"You'll…be here?" Moonshadow asked in some surprise.

"O' course," Rawlstow assured him, draping the second blanket over his back. "I'll stay until that hoof looks better an' yer fever comes down." So saying, he curled himself neatly into a niche between two roots.

Half asleep now and barely aware of what he was doing, Moonshadow let his hand drop down to tangle his fingers in the Fox's thick red coat. Reassured by that proof of the healer's presence, he relaxed and drifted into sleep.

Next chapter coming next week!

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