Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 108
108
The tent rippled and bulged, creating lines of shadows that slithered above their heads like snakes.
Ander was sitting on one of the beds, feeling... actually, he didn't know what he was feeling. He knew he felt cold, but that was just on the outside. What he felt on the inside... he just didn't know.
Someone had thrown a blanket over his shoulders. Sarah, probably. He didn't really know. She was sitting next to him, holding his arm, talking to him about something...
"It wasn't your fault, do you hear me? None of this was your fault, you have to..."
...but he couldn't really hear the individual words, only the gentle drone of her voice. It was nice. He was glad she was there, and he was glad to listen, but he couldn't stop staring at the body lying in the corner. Bethany had thrown a blanket over her, but... she was still there... so small. Was she always so small? She used to be bigger than life, arguably the most feared Wolf in all the tribe, some would say even more so than Banno. But now...
She just looked so... small.
Her arms and legs made four hills and three valleys inside the folds of the blanket, bracketed at the top and bottom by the mountain peaks that were her feet and nose. A line of blood had seeped through at the neck, creating a crimson river without a source or a mouth. It was just there, dragging on his eye like a fishhook, not letting go. He didn't want to leave her there at first, but Bethany...
No, Ander. We can't take her outside. Just think of what it'll do. All those Wolves out there, everyone on edge, their friends either dead or dying, scared, angry, not knowing what to do, and you want to go out there with their witchdoctor in your arms, with her - there's no easy way to say this - with her throat slit_. Think for a moment what that might cause. We're walking a razor's edge as it is._
Bethany was right. It was better to leave her here for now. It was only for a little while. Only for a little while... It just... It felt so dismissive, putting her in the corner like that, where she'd be out of the way, like a bag of trash waiting to be thrown out on a compost heap...
"...have faith, they're doing everything they can for him, and I know they will..."
Ander looked down at what was in his hands. It was Hezzi's scarf, the one Bethany had given him, the scarf that had almost surely saved his life. Bright red with little tassels. There were three slits cut into the wool, because that was the number of times he had wrapped it around his neck. Three holes with three dark, sticky patches of drying blood surrounding each one. If he were to squeeze it, it would well to the surface in pitch black drops, he was certain of it.
"...have to stay with us, okay? He's going to need you when he..."
How much blood was on his hands right now? How much was there really? His mother's. His brother's. And those weren't even in any symbolic sense.
"Give me my bag! Quickly, Kiana, quickly!"
"Here!"
So much movement, all concentrated in one little spot.
Bethany pulled a bottle of brown liquid from the black leather bag in Kiana's arms and upended the whole thing over a wad of rags and pressed it against Hezzi's neck, lightly dabbing the final wound his mother had left him.
No, that wasn't her final wound. She'll wound him again once he wakes up. If he wakes up...
Don't think like that. Bethany saved him once, she can do it again.
"Is the water boiling yet?"
Layla checked the pot in the middle of the tent and shook her head. "Not yet."
"Damn it!" Bethany took the rag, rung it out, considered using it again, then tossed it away and picked up a fresh one instead. The used rag hit the ground with a soft little plop, and Ander couldn't help but think how much he felt exactly like that rag down there. Used up. Spent. Twisted. Wrung out. Covered in blood.
Maybe if he had something to do, he wouldn't feel this way. Wasn't that what Hezzi was always saying? Doing for the sake of doing, even if there was nothing you could do, because doing something useless was still better than doing absolutely nothing at all?
A small sniffle came from the opposite corner and Ander found his head swivelling in that direction almost automatically.
Renna was sitting on the floor, her tiny body hitching and convulsing as she tried to keep her sobs at bay. Mellah and Sorrin were with her, holding her tight and wiping her eyes, whispering that everything was going to be all right, that she needn't worry her pretty little head, that this storm would eventually blow over and that the sun would shine again. Aisa was standing behind them, just hovering in the background, chewing on her thumb claw and looking completely out of her element, not sure what to do or what to say, or if she should even be there at all.
Renna nodded and bit her lip. She was trying very hard to stay quiet. She was trying very hard to stay out of everyone's way, but Ander could tell how much she wanted to storm to Hezzi's side. He could tell how badly she wanted to cradle his head in her arms and kiss his face and hold his hand.
Nilia was standing further back, pacing the narrow aisles between the beds, up and down, tearing her claws through her hair and cursing beneath her breath. "I should have been here, damn it, I should have been here..." Tears welled in her eyes without her even noticing, and Ander wondered at the fact that Nilia, of all people, would be showing more emotion than him right now. He just felt so... numb. Too much had happened in too short a time. And by the looks of things, he wasn't the only one who felt that way.
Wolves lay on their backs and stared up at the rippling canvass ceiling, their eyes wide and haunted, their lips slightly parted, clutching thin blankets to their chins. They had seen so much in such a short amount of time. They had lusted for blood, been buried in the snow, stood on the brink of death before being snatched back into this cold world of the living once again, and now all they could do was try and make sense of it all as they listened to the pained cries of a child sitting in the corner, wishing she could hold her friend's hand as he lay bleeding, fighting for his life.
It was too much to think about in a single night. Perhaps even too much to think about in a single lifetime. Just too much...
"Layla, how are those needles coming along?"
"They're boiling now."
"That's long enough, give them here!"
"Yes, Mother."
"Kiana, cut these bandages into strips, nice and long, and then go fetch a new pot of water. There should be some in the storage tents. Let's just pray it hasn't frozen over."
"Yes, Mother."
Ander thought about getting up to fetch it himself -
Doing is better than not doing.
- but he couldn't get his legs to move. He couldn't even get his voice to work. Maybe it was because he didn't want to leave his little brother behind, even for the few minutes it would take to fetch one stupid pot of water. He didn't want to leave him there on that bed while Bethany pushed a curved needle through his flesh, sewing him up with a black piece of thread that stood out against the light grey of his fur almost as starkly as all the blood that still stained his neck and shoulders.
He didn't want to risk not being here when he opened his eyes, sat up, and saw the bloody pile of blankets lying in the corner, the bloody pile of blankets that was his mother.
"I know this is hard for you, Nilia," Bethany said, frowning in deep concentration, "but could you please stop pacing like that? It's getting on my nerves."
Nilia stopped. For a moment it looked like she was about to say something, then like she was about to punch something. He had never seen her look quite that angry before, but instead of shouting or storming outside, she simply shook her head, sat down heavily on one of the beds, and covered her face with her hands.
Layla gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder, a tiny vixen in a winter's dress trying to comfort a fearsome warrior almost twice her size. Watching those two only made Ander realize that he wasn't the only one nearing the breaking point. It's been a hard night for everyone, and it wasn't even over yet.
Kiana rolled up the freshly cut bandages and placed them on a table where Bethany could easily reach them, then came over and bent down in front of Ander's field of vision. Her smile was brave, but forced. "Ander? I'm going out for a while, but I'll be right back, okay?"
Ander nodded.
"Are you... holding up?"
He nodded again.
"Is he?" This question she directed at Sarah, who shook her head gravely.
"I think he's in shock. He just watched his... well, you saw it, too. I don't blame him."
"I'll ask around. Maybe someone out there has a bottle of brandy to spare. Gods know he could use a top."
"I think we all could, dear."
Kiana took his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. It was a soft kiss. Gentle. The only warm thing to touch him this night that wasn't blood.
Ander rested his forehead against hers for a moment, taking comfort in the simple knowledge that, despite everything, she still loved him. Just like she said she would.
"I'll be right back, okay?" She slipped around the edge of the bed, trailing her hand along his shoulder for as long as he was in reach, and then she was gone. Ander listened to the sound of her fumbling with the entrance of the tent, and looked down at the crimson scarf in his lap, trying to make sense of it all. He was sitting on this rickety bed that could barely hold his weight while his Fox mother whispered her soft comforts and his Wolf mother lay on the ground beneath a bloody blanket - an echo to this very scarf. Its owner, his little brother, lay unconscious, fighting for his life while Bethany dug into his neck with a bloody needle in one hand and a thin, wickedly sharp knife in the other. He listened to the soft clicking sounds of Renna chewing on her claws. He watched as Nilia sat perfectly still in one spot, banned from pacing, taking slow, calculated breaths between her hands, trying desperately to keep herself from losing control.
How was he supposed to make sense of any of this? How was he supposed to understand any of it when he could barely comprehend the woven strands of wool between his fingers?
Kiana finally undid the last knot and a freezing cold wind blasted over his back and through the tent, rippling the sheets and making the firepit stutter. He turned around, hoping to get one last glimpse of her before she disappeared into the storm, but she had jumped back from the entrance in horror, both hands clapped over her mouth to stifle a scream. The reason for this became clear a moment later, when a small group of Foxes came piling in through the opening; Jonah, Mateo, Rufio, the twins and some others, looking like they had just gone through hell. Their clothes were covered in bright red clouds of blood, still fresh and dripping in places, but Rufio was in particularly bad shape. There were puncture marks all around his head and blood had poured down over his face to coagulate in his fur. He could barely stand on his own two feet. Not only that, but there was an army of Foxes at their backs, surrounded by the faint, orange glow of the campfires, dozens upon dozens of silhouettes thrown against the undulating walls of the tent, making them ebb and flow like a tide. They had bows, pitchforks, hatchets, nondescript staves and sticks and chunks of broken supports festooned with bent nails. The deep rumble of many voices talking over each other washed over them like the wind.
"Father!?" Kiana exclaimed, rushing over to inspect his wounds. "Oh my word!" She gently brushed the hair from his brow, wincing at the way it stuck to the yawning gashes encircling his head like a crown.
One glimpse of those jagged cuts was enough to knock Layla clean off her feet. She didn't faint, exactly, but all the strength ran out of her hands and legs and the big bucket of blood-soaked rags she had been carrying slipped from her grasp and rolled over the floor. If Danado hadn't been there to catch her and guide her towards the nearest bed, she would have sat down on the spot.
"What in the names of all the gods...?" Bethany said, looking up from Hezzi's wound for the first time in a long while, her hands frozen mid-stitch. She looked rather annoyed until she spotted what all the fuss was about. "Rufio!? Oh my gods, Rufio, what happened!?"
Rufio raised one blood-streaked hand in what was perhaps meant as a placating gesture. "I'm fine, Beth. It's only a scratch, is all. You just focus on -" His eyes fell on her patient and they went wide as saucers. "Forget about me, what happened to Hezzi!?"
"There was... an accident." She bent down and went back to work, carefully pulling the needle and thread through Hezzi's neck, but Ander couldn't help but notice the way her eyes briefly flickered towards the blankets lying in the corner, with the line of blood drying into the wool. "But it's over now. Over and done. Just tell me what happened out there so I can decide in what order to look at you."
Mateo stepped forward, took a deep breath and began to speak, "We were -", but it was Jonah that ended up telling the whole story, because Mateo didn't get a chance to go any further than that.
Sarah stood up, clutching the neckline of her dress, but she had barely opened her mouth to speak when Nilia stormed in, practically yanked Mateo off his feet, and crushed him to her chest, squeezing so hard the tendons stood out in her arms like cables. "You stupid, stupid Fox!" she screamed and cried all at the same time. "You idiot! You moron! You stupid... stupid..." She rested her head on top of his, and her crushing bear hug slowly softened and turned into an actual embrace.
Bartholomew nudged his brother in the ribs. "Oy, Nicky?"
"Yeah?"
"You owe me ten silvers."
"Oh my gods, Bart, not now."
Mateo hugged her back, nestling his bloody face against her shoulder, and whispered: "I'm sorry, Nilia... I nearly broke my promise..."
"Shut up," she said. "You just shut up about that. I don't want to hear anything about broken promises or anything like that."
"Okay."
Nilia brushed some of the tacky strands of blood-soaked hair out of his face and gently traced the jagged scratches along his brow. "What happened out there, Mat?" she asked. "Just what in the Cora's name happened out there?"
"We were- It-" He buried his face against Nilia's shoulder and shook his head, too overcome to speak. She held him tight and patted him on the back, giving comfort as well as receiving it, completely unmindful of the incredulous looks they were getting from Sarah.
That's when Jonah stepped forward, a completely different Fox to the one that had helped Ander replace a wagon wheel an eternity ago. That Fox had been jittery, but cheerful. Nervous, but polite and friendly. The Fox standing just inside the entrance to this tent of healing was haunted, covered in a layer of fear just as the mountain was covered in snow, but beneath that fear, shining through plain as day, was an ember of unbridled, uncontrollable anger. He opened his mouth and said the three words that Ander had hoped to never hear again, the three words he knew were coming the very moment they barged in here looking like they had just barely survived some terrible battle.
"It was Banno."
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