Fuck!
I bit my tongue to keep from grunting in pain. I couldn’t stop the flinch, though, and Pearl’s empathetic frown when she noticed my discomfort caused a strange warmth to bloom in my chest.
“This stuff is amazing,” Pearl breathed, her eyes going wide as she watched the liquid bubble as it cleaned the wound and diminished blood flow to a trickle. Several minutes later, the bubbling and bleeding ceased, as did the pain shooting along my arm.
Pearl was back to sifting through the medi-kit. “Where are the bandages?”
“The blue gel.” I nodded to a glass container, noticing the dizziness had abated somewhat.
Pearl picked up the vial, staring at it suspiciously. “Do I just smear it on?”
“Yes.” I grinned at her expression. “It will harden and create a protective barrier over the wound.
Pearl used a clean corner of the cloth to wipe away any residual dirt and blood smears. It took a few minutes for her to be satisfied with the cleanliness of the wound, and she poured a bit of the gel on her fingertips. A minty antiseptic scent filled the air, not altogether unpleasant. With a gentle touch, she smeared the thick gel over the gash. I wouldn’t have believed anything could feel good near the ragged edges of the gash, but her soft fingers on my skin felt like a balm, soothing the pain and discomfort.
With a satisfied smile, Pearl rinsed her fingers with water and began repacking the medi-kit. The gel she applied hardened immediately, creating a tight seal that pulled the edges of the injury together. In seconds, the gel turned a deep shade of blue, completely covering and obscuring the wound underneath.
“It’s like watching magic,” she murmured softly, mesmerized.
“Our medical technology is much more advanced than Earth’s,” I admitted, moving my arm tentatively. It hurt like hell, but the limb was serviceable.
“Here.” Pearl handed me a small metal container of water. “I saw onGray’s Anatomyonce that you should drink lots of fluids after blood loss.”
I addedGray’s Anatomyto the list of things to inquire about later and dutifully took a drink. “Thank you.”
Pearl smiled, but my enjoyment of the simple gesture waned as I noticed her trembling.
“Are you okay?” I laid my hand on her shoulder, feeling shudders running like subterranean quakes under her skin.
“Yeah.” Pearl took a deep breath and rolled her neck. “It’s just the adrenaline leaving my body. I get this way after a dinner rush sometimes, too.” Her laugh, while harsh, convinced me she wasn’t in need of medical attention herself, but I still didn’t like the trembling.
I put my uninjured arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to my side. Pearl didn’t resist. Instead, she slumped against me as if near exhaustion.
We sat together, nestled in the shade of the outcropping, as the morning sun began its slow ascent, casting golden light upon the landscape. The coolness of the spot provided a welcome respite from the heat. All around us, the sounds of fowl and animals blended together, each chirping, cawing, and rustling, adding another layer to the melodic backdrop of our deep, contented breathing.
Pearl was the first to move, rising to her feet and pulling the small, curved blade from her satchel.
“I guess I better get to it.” She eyed the struzzi carcass with a hint of contempt.
“I will assist you.” I made to stand.
“Nope.” Pearl put her hand on my shoulder. She had no real strength to keep me seated, but I bent to her will. “You just sit right there and rest. This is just like butchering a chicken. A really big, mean, nasty-looking chicken.”
Although I felt a twinge of guilt for lounging in the shade while Pearl did all the work, I couldn’t help but admire her skill and determination. With fierce concentration on her face, she wielded her knife better than some warriors I knew, slicing through the tough meat as if it were water. She deftly separated the delicate feathers from the flesh, pausing to gauge which cut of meat might prove more succulent. Every movement was precise and intentional, with no wasted effort. I found myself unable to take my eyes off her, awestruck by her ability.
When she cut through the thick joint, pulling the wing away to get to the meat below, my awe turned into suspicion.
“Wait.”
Pearl halted, wing in hand and arm raised to toss it aside.
“Don’t tell me.” She playfully rolled her eyes. “You’ve got a hankering for buffalo wings.”
I frowned, my attention focused on the odd bend in the wing’s upper section more than her words. Noticing my expression, Pearl stiffened, her eyes moving from me to the mass of bone and tissue. When I held out my hand for the wing, she didn’t hesitate to hand it over, following to kneel at my side as I began my inspection.
The struzzi wing was square, divided into two distinct sections, with a thick bone running along the outer edge from shoulder to tip. As I manipulated the wing, the movement showed an odd bend in the upper section.
No wonder the struzzi couldn’t fly. The bone had suffered a clean break in the mid-upper section.
