[Flashback] The Boy in the Grass (Bolden)

[Laria]

The ignored hand and the sharp reply turned her expression from one of concern to one of hurt. She abruptly pulled her hand away and took a measured step back. The boy was unsteady, and she could see him struggle to stand, but she made no other moves to help. She shrugged a shoulder at his apology, rearranging her features into a somewhat neutral expression. She listened and watched quietly as he called the mare back. She nodded a little at his next words. He wasn't okay, she could clearly see that, but she didn't want to make him angry again. Instead, she glanced at the mare, who extended her nose in the girls direction, exhaling softly so that her golden locks ruffled slightly. "This is Cali." She reached out an gently petted the horse's nose. This particular mare was a calm individual, one of her father's favourites to breed foals for the more inexperienced riders. She slid her eyes back over to Bolden. "Are you sure you're okay." The slight raise of one eyebrow would tell the boy that it was quite obvious he was in pain.

[Bolden Denusk]

Bold saw her expression and felt like a total heel. He looked at Laria apologetically and extended his left hand to her. The boy gave her a crooked smile and took her hand.

"I can always use the help of a golden palomino with me. Now I have the two prettiest fillies in the herd by my side." He said glibly.

A few bright lights flashed before his eyes and his head felt tight and swollen. Dizziness washed over him and he leaned heavily into Laria and the patient mare.

Strong pain killers, an empty stomach and yesterday's blood loss, understandably took it's toll. The boy's leg gave out and he slumped to the ground as if without a bone in his body. His face and neck flushed with fever and his amber eyes looked glassy. He couldn't quite seem to hold up his head or gather the wits to speak.

[Laria]

The girl paused for a moment before taking the offered hand. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth at his words, though a single eyebrow also rose. She suspected that if the mare could have understood, she would roll her eyes. However her expression shifted yet again, back to one of worry. She was forced to take a step back as he leaned forward heavily. The mare, surprised at the sudden addition of weight, danced to the side, leaving Laria to hold the boy off the floor. She had not been expecting it, and so she unintentionally let him slump to the ground. Something was definitely not right. He looked ill, like her brother had done one time when he had a fever. The young girls mind failed to link the condition of the boy to his leg, thinking he had caught an illness. She looped his arm round her neck, and managed to stand him up again. Since he was still sort of conscious, she was able to walk him back into the Pavilion, taking the weight for his splinted leg. Miraculously, her father intercepted her, picking the boy up with ease and placing him on the same bed he had woken from. With assurance to his daughter that a better medic would be gotten, he left. Laria turned to the poorly boy. "Bolden? Are you listening?" She couldn't tell. "They're getting another medic. You should have told me that you were feeling ill." ooc : Feel free to control a medic if you want to (:

[Bolden Denusk]

"Am ok, ish jes col in here." He slurred, shivered and closed his eyes.

Bolden's skin radiated a furious heat and his injured leg began to give off a distinct odor of bad infection. The healer had forgotten to remove the rotting poultice before applying the now tattered splint that wouldn't hold a bird bone in place.

The birch bark slid off at a weak point and fell to the floor. The right leg was swollen and the edges were starting to seep pus beneath the warm and rotting leaf poultice.

The bandage on the back of Bold's head was placed too tightly across the hair because no one had bothered to shave and clean the injury. Now the head was swelling against the bandage,pulling until it ripped the skin further, with little curls sticking to the adhesive.

The thirteen year old boy rolled painfully to his side and sicked up the remains of the datura from the cup. The dose was far too strong for a little boy.

An older healer crept into the tent, tucking his beard into his tunic and looked at Laria. His age bespoke many years of experience and gave an immediate sense of competency.

"Miss Laria, what did the last healer say about his wounds and care? If he was treated only yesterday, it's some poor work for a wound to heat up and mortify so quickly."

[Laria]

Laria jumped slightly as something hit the floor. She glanced down at the broken splint and then at the boys leg. It looked, well it looked awful. She quickly averted her gaze from the seeping wound. She bit her lip as the boy was sick. Laria was not good around ill people. She fretted too much, tending to overlook the obvious things while fussing needlessly. The girl stood as a healer entered the Pavilion. He was older than the previous one, and Laria was immediately comforted. She thought for a moment before replying to him. "He left some of that tea for him, and he said to change his head bandage." She frowned. Thinking about it, it didn't seem like a lot of things to do to make him better. She motioned to the few remaining herbs on the table. "I... the other medic put a splint on it yesterday but I think it broke.."

[Bolden Denusk]

The healer listened carefully to the Ankal's daughter and frowned.

"These leaves should be dried before put in the water. This needed an infusion instead of a decoction! It's far too strong for child this young. The lad needs lots of water and broth. Has he drank nothing since yesterday?"

His expression was displeased as he set things to rights and listened for Laria's answer. He cleaned the leg wound with vinegar, which made Bold yelp loudly in pain and his eyes flashed open for a brief chime.

"Good, there's still life in him. Miss Laria, please soak these clean rags in some of the vinegar for a proper dressing."

The vinegar bubbled over the wound, splashing out the puss and hissing like a venomous snake. He poured some soured wine over the leg to clean away the vinegar. It hurt almost as much, but the boy was beyond feeling anything at that time. Dehydration, blood loss, fever, infection and shock reduced Bolden to an unconscious shell on a makeshift bed.

He took the vinegar soaked cloths from Laria and wrapped them firmly about the wound, with a wooden post held to each side of the leg that held the knee immobile. Then he rolled over the young Denusk to his side and stared at the mess of blood, hair and sticky, sodden bandage.

Removing the lot, he shaved the wound clean of hair and doused it with vinegar again.

Bolden yelled louder than he ever had in his life and suddenly went limp. The healer shook his head at the needless suffering of the boy when the proper cleaning should have been done yesterday. He bandaged the head gash with honey beneath it to draw out any infection.

"You're a good nurse young lady. He needs water, inside and out. A cool damp cloth for his fever and some willow bark tea for pain. Broth twice a day and as much water as he can drink. He shouldn't have slept with that head wound last night, but he didn't stop breathing so he might make it. I'll check in on him in 24 chimes. Both the fever and swelling should be down and he should have quite the headache. Now don't frown; when his head starts hurting, that means he's healing. Oh and don't let him walk on that leg alone. He shouldn't be out of bed yet."

The older man clapped a hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

[Laria]

She could tell from the healers expression that the previous man's work was not good. She knew nothing about making a medical brew, so she listened carefully as he spoke. Dry the leaves... She winced as the boy yelped. Clean with vinegar. She snapped to attention and took the rags from the medic, dipping them carefully in the vinegar he had motioned to. She watched with a half-horrified, half-intrigued expression as the wound was sterilized, not quite sure what to make of it. She silently handed the rags over. His head wound was just as bad. After the medic had shaved the hair, she could see the deep, bloody gash clearly. Again she visibly winced as the boy cried out, forcing herself to watch what the medic was doing, just in case the knowledge would aid her one day. Honey for infections. She nodded and tried to commit all of his words to memory. Water and tea, broth and a damp cloth. She also made a mental note to try and wake up before he did next time. Before the healer could leave, she spoke up again. "Um, excuse me." She paused. "He can't remember anything..."

[Bolden Denusk]

The old healer frowned a moment and answered,

"Ah, amnesia. Well in most cases the memory will come back in a few days. In rarer cases, if there's something they don't want to remember, it may take a long time to come back. Head injuries are strange things. He seems young and strong enough to recover. You take good care of him now and I'll see you tomorrow."

The man gave a polite bow, acknowledging Laria's status, and exited the tent.

[Laria]

Laria frowned a little at the healers words before turning back to the boy. She watched him for a moment, before hunting for some willowbark with which she could make tea from. She made a few trips, eventually piling willowbark, boiling water, broth and cold water onto the small table. She made the tea before sitting back in the chair, watching Bolden to see if he would wake up. She wondered why the previous medic had done such a a bad job. He had seemed to know what he was doing. Being so young, Laria was quick to trust most people, though it seemed she had been wrong that time. She pulled her feet up off the floor and onto the edge of her seat before wrapping her arms round them and resting her chin on her knees.

[Bolden Denusk]

All was quiet for a few bells until Bold started getting restless in the throes of a dream.

"Stop telling me what to do--you're not my father!! I HATE you! What do you care anyway! She was -my- mother not yours! I wish it was YOU that died!" the boy shouted angrily in his sleep.

He clutched the blankets around him and twisted himself back and forth listlessly. Tears clung to his lashes and his cheeks grew rosy, not from fever, but emotion.

"I never asked to be your brother! She was my mother, it's my right to mourn her!"

Bold angrily wiped away the tears, his breath coming in ragged gulps. He sat up abruptly, waking from the dream in confusion. His eyes were almost pure gold and awash with tears. Little dark curls clung to his neck, temples and forehead and his mouth was unusually red. Bolden struggled to remember where he was for a chime.