Page 41 of In Darkness Forged
“It is most certainlynotnothing,” the human shot back, throwing off her cloak and approaching him with a dark scowl that failed to conceal the redness of her eyes and nose. “Turn around.”
When he didn’t move, she grabbed his arms, and Tal was so startled that he actually turned when she pushed him.
And then all he could feel was her small, cold hands on his back, peeling away the fabric of his shirt and pressing her fingertips gently against the edges of his wound.
It hurt. So much more than he’d imagined it could hurt. Not simply because she was pulling at torn muscle and skin… No, her touch was gentle but firm and somehow confident. Not meant to injure or make him feel small.
No one had touched him like that since Lani died.
He froze under her fingers, and then she froze too, as if she’d suddenly realized what she’d done. He heard a deep, shuddering breath.
“You need stitches.”
“I have survived far worse without them,” he said coolly. “And while I have many skills, I cannot turn my arms backward. Tend to your own worries, human, and allow me to tend to mine.”
“Damned if I will,” she snapped, and her tone whipped him around to look at her sharply in the brightening morning light.
Her blue eyes were snapping with anger. “I might be weak and useless in a fight, but you’re as big a fool as I am if you won’t let me help you with something I’m actually good at.”
Tal felt his eyebrows rise slowly. “You’ve actually stitched a wound before?”
“Yes!”
He had no idea why he should be so surprised. He knew nothing of humans—perhaps they fought one another constantly, and this was simply a normal part of human education.
“Very well.” He hadn’t meant to agree, but… He knew the feeling of helplessness. Knew what it was to feel incapable of changing the misery around him. And it was such a small thing—one that might even help him heal faster. Assuming she didn’t simply wish to stab him with the needle the moment his back was turned.
Tal dug into his pack until his fingers closed around a soft little bundle of cloth and thread and two tiny bone needles. Lani’s sewing kit.
No, just a sewing kit. He could not continue to torture himself with such memories.
“Here.” He dropped the bundle into the human’s hands, then pulled his ruined shirt off and seated himself on a nearby rock. “Might as well get it over with.”
“Do you want to die?” the human said, glaring at him with what looked startlingly like contempt. “We have to clean the wound first. I’m not stitching you up like that.”
Somewhat bemused by her sudden air of command, Tal helped build the fire high enough to boil water, then watched as she cut yet another strip off her skirt and folded it into a pad.
“This will hurt,” she said coolly, then proceeded to clean his cut so meticulously, he could have sworn she scraped bone.
Tal bore the procedure, teeth gritted, wondering whether he should tell her that night elves did not usually bother with such things. Perhaps they healed faster than humans or did not succumb to infections so easily. Most had access to healers who used magic to hasten their work. But whatever the case, he still said nothing as she worked, her fingers cool against the angry flesh around the wound.
“I don’t have enough knowledge to make a living,” she said as she worked, “but I’ve spent a fair bit of time with the healer in our village. He taught me to forage for herbs, make poultices and tisanes, and to deal with basic injuries.”
Shadows help him, she was trying to makeconversation.
“I don’t need a distraction,” he muttered.
“Well, maybe I do,” she said sharply, after which he heard the swift hiss of an indrawn breath. “Oh, just forget I said that.”
“Exactly how many people have you stitched up?” Tal asked, despite his reluctance to engage in pointless pleasantries.
“Including you?” She paused for the space of a few breaths. “Two.”
His shoulder jerked in reaction, and he felt a brief stab as the needle went awry.
“Hold still,” the human commanded sharply. “I might not be a healer, but this is still better than nothing. And I’ve sewn up a great many holes in clothing, so it isn’t as if I don’t know what to do with a needle.”
After another pause, she added, “The only other person I’ve done this for… was my father.”