01-14-2010, 12:05 AM
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607.
She struggled—for all he knew, she thought that he was her assailant, taking her away to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what. He merely tried to keep hold of her as best as he could, trying not to jostle her even though she tried on many occasions to squirm free from him. He tried not to have his arm anywhere near where the slashes on her back were, but it did not work well—there was no way he could get around it. He just tried to go as quickly as he could, so she wouldn’t have to be in such discomfort for a really exaggerated amount of time.
Eventually she calmed herself, and they were able to get to where he kept his den in the middle of the landfill. She was starting to come to her senses when he set her down—when he turned around with the cloth bandage, she was close to the fire, and she even facilitated him binding the wound. He knew that it would probably be best if it was still in contact with the snow, for the ice would help reduce swelling and would probably increase clotting. He didn’t demand anything, though; as long as she wasn’t bleeding out, he didn’t think it really mattered. She was resting, from what he could tell now. He could see from the flickering firelight that there were tears in her eyes. Embarrassed—emotion was so alien to him!—he turned and gave the wound on his clavicle a few licks, cleaning the wound as best as he could before wrapping another piece of cloth around his shoulder. After tying it off, he walked back over to where she was near the fire. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but merely made a cry. He knelt down next to her, not really knowing how to comfort her. All he could remember was how his mother had treated Foxhound when they were infants—Foxhound had always become very upset about things (Snake did not), and she would shush him to try to calm him down. Snake imitated that. “Shhh,” he said softly, making a gesture that indicated she didn’t have to speak.
He got a tin cup from his den and put some snow in it, holding it over the fire for a few moments. The snow quickly melted and he returned to Vieira. He didn’t want her moving her arms just yet, so he placed the cup near her lips, tilting it and saying, “It’s water; drink.” He knew that it would probably calm her down to get some fluids in her; water was never bad for the recovering. After that, he settled down next to her. He couldn’t help it—a sharp hiss escaped his jaws as he finally rested into a sitting position. His shoulder had twinged and he felt as if he could feel every place the claws of the wolf had shredded his skin. The battle had passed, so he could feel the pain in its entirety now. It hurt like hell, though he did his best not to show it.
He needed answers, though, so he said, “You don’t have to talk; just nod or shake your head, if you want. Did Kaena send you out there alone?” If this was true, he would probably have to speak to the Centurion. Unless she was punishing Vieira or just wanted her dead, there was no reason the coyote should be out patrolling borders by herself. It was a miracle that Snake had been there at all to help her, and if he hadn’t, she’d be dead right now.
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607.
She struggled—for all he knew, she thought that he was her assailant, taking her away to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what. He merely tried to keep hold of her as best as he could, trying not to jostle her even though she tried on many occasions to squirm free from him. He tried not to have his arm anywhere near where the slashes on her back were, but it did not work well—there was no way he could get around it. He just tried to go as quickly as he could, so she wouldn’t have to be in such discomfort for a really exaggerated amount of time.
Eventually she calmed herself, and they were able to get to where he kept his den in the middle of the landfill. She was starting to come to her senses when he set her down—when he turned around with the cloth bandage, she was close to the fire, and she even facilitated him binding the wound. He knew that it would probably be best if it was still in contact with the snow, for the ice would help reduce swelling and would probably increase clotting. He didn’t demand anything, though; as long as she wasn’t bleeding out, he didn’t think it really mattered. She was resting, from what he could tell now. He could see from the flickering firelight that there were tears in her eyes. Embarrassed—emotion was so alien to him!—he turned and gave the wound on his clavicle a few licks, cleaning the wound as best as he could before wrapping another piece of cloth around his shoulder. After tying it off, he walked back over to where she was near the fire. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but merely made a cry. He knelt down next to her, not really knowing how to comfort her. All he could remember was how his mother had treated Foxhound when they were infants—Foxhound had always become very upset about things (Snake did not), and she would shush him to try to calm him down. Snake imitated that. “Shhh,” he said softly, making a gesture that indicated she didn’t have to speak.
He got a tin cup from his den and put some snow in it, holding it over the fire for a few moments. The snow quickly melted and he returned to Vieira. He didn’t want her moving her arms just yet, so he placed the cup near her lips, tilting it and saying, “It’s water; drink.” He knew that it would probably calm her down to get some fluids in her; water was never bad for the recovering. After that, he settled down next to her. He couldn’t help it—a sharp hiss escaped his jaws as he finally rested into a sitting position. His shoulder had twinged and he felt as if he could feel every place the claws of the wolf had shredded his skin. The battle had passed, so he could feel the pain in its entirety now. It hurt like hell, though he did his best not to show it.
He needed answers, though, so he said, “You don’t have to talk; just nod or shake your head, if you want. Did Kaena send you out there alone?” If this was true, he would probably have to speak to the Centurion. Unless she was punishing Vieira or just wanted her dead, there was no reason the coyote should be out patrolling borders by herself. It was a miracle that Snake had been there at all to help her, and if he hadn’t, she’d be dead right now.