Brutal Tactics: Chapter 9

Sorry I'm late with the new chapter. In case you missed them all previous chapters can be found in the collection.

Chapter 9

I wasn't sure what exactly woke me up. Was it the hunger pains? Was it the intense steady throb in my shoulder? Was it the incredible thirst that made my mouth feel like it was coated in tree bark? I didn't know and I didn't particularly care, I was just happy that I woke up. I sat up slowly and looked at my tattered blood-stained clothes. I was lucky to be alive.

I swung my legs off the side of my bed and slowly stood up, testing my legs. They held under my weight while I limped over to the barrel in the kitchen where I keep my clean drinking water. I pulled the lid off and pulled the ladle I kept inside out. I slowly sipped the water feeling it coat the inside of my mouth, doing my best not to guzzle it down. Once I finished that ladle full, I walked over to my fireplace and started a small cook fire. While I waited on the fire to get hot enough, I sipped down a couple more ladles of water, my mouth starting to feel normal again. Once I got those down I added a few more small logs to the fire. As I waited on those to catch I started preparing the ingredients for the soup I was going to make myself. I chopped up some potatoes and carrots then prepared some dried squirrel. Once I completed that I filled up my cook pot with water and hung it over the fire.

While I waited on the water to boil I decided to change my clothes and bandages, I would worry about bathing after I had a full belly. I gingerly pulled my shirt over my head, my left shoulder aching from the movement. I threw the rag over by the foot of my bed as I looked down at my chest and noticed the cut there had almost healed.

"Based on how that cut has healed I must have been out for a couple of days" I thought.

I limped over to my bed and sat down pulling off my boots and setting them down next to my feet and then did the same with my socks. Then I slid off my trousers and threw them in a pile with my shirt. Now clad only in my undergarments I went to the countertop that had my medical supplies on it from my previous use. Normally I try to keep everything in its place, but I didn't manage to put them away before passing out. I slowly unwrapped the blood-soaked bandage around my shoulder, grimacing slightly as I did so. Once I got the bandage off, I wiped as much of the old plantain and yarrow out as I could without getting the wound wet. Wiping out the wound caused some blood to weep through the thin scab that had formed, but I could tell the inside had started to heal. I ground up some fresh plantain, packed the wound again, and re-bandaged it. I took the bandages off my leg and back, wiped the plantain off as best I could, and decided to leave the bandages off since they had formed thick scabs.

Having re-dressed my wounds I went over to my dresser to get a new set of clothing. I pulled out a loose-fitting cloth shirt and trousers and pulled them on. I grabbed the potatoes and carrots off the counter and slid them into the boiling water. After about five minutes I scooped a spoonful of animal fat into the pot and sprinkled some salt into it as well. I stirred the pot occasionally and after another 15 minutes I added the dried squirrel. Another 30 minutes went by, with me continuing to stir the pot, and then I pulled the soup off the fire and scooped some into a bowl. I ate it slowly, not wanting to overwhelm my stomach, and savored every bite. I ate two bowls of soup and drank three glasses of water before I was satisfied.

After I finished eating I started to prepare my bath, which was a process I didn't want to do while injured. I walked out and scooped water out of my outdoor water barrels into my tub. My tub is outside next to my house which on warm days like today was perfect, on cold days I would heat the water by building a small fire underneath the small metal tub. I unwrapped my shoulder, undressed, and climbed into the tub. I sank down to my neck in the water and let it soften the dried dirt and mud that was stuck to my body. After a few minutes, I dunked my head beneath the surface and scrubbed the mud, sweat, and blood from my hair and face. I stood up and washed the now softened blood and dirt off of me with a bar of soap, careful to avoid the softened scabs as I didn't want to tear them off. Having sufficiently cleaned myself I stepped out of the reddish-brown water and pulled the plug out of the bottom to allow the water to drain. I gathered my clothes from beside the tub and went back into the house. I put my undergarments and trousers back on and laid my shirt on the table to wear later. I decided to leave my shoulder unbandaged to allow it time to breathe and properly dry. I didn't want to risk it becoming infected from staying wet too long and the thin scab it had formed was protection enough for now.

I ate another bowl of soup and drank a couple more glasses of water and contemplated my situation. It would be a couple more weeks before my leg and back were fully healed. It would probably be a month at the earliest before my shoulder was healed, and there was no telling yet how the function would be affected. Losing Nepril was hard, she had been with me for nine years and had been my sole companion for the last four. Not to mention everything I did would be more complex and labor intensive without her. My trips to the village would go from a two-day trip to a three or four-day trip, and I would have to make them more often as I wouldn't be able to carry as much back. Hunting would be harder as I wouldn't have her to help drag deer through the woods. Somehow, the isolation now felt more real, more consuming, with her gone.

I wondered whether this place was still safe for me to live. Surely if those men had found me someone would find me again. I thought about leaving to find somewhere new to live, but I couldn't think of anywhere that would be different, and I couldn't bear the thought of having to start over again. Besides they're dead now and I had built this place with my own hands, made it my home.

"I'm not going to run anymore. I ran from my home into these woods, and I was hunted like a fox. I stood and fought for my home, no my freedom, when they came for me. I will not abandon that now," I thought to myself.

I couldn't just wait there for the next time though. Something had to be done. I could not stand the thought of running away and I could not stand the thought of sitting there waiting like a cow in a slaughterhouse, and yet I had no idea what else I could do. I couldn't go backward, I couldn't sit still, and yet there was no real way forward.

"How does one improve upon a situation in which there is no way to improve?"