“Where’s the patient?” he asks.
Nolan directs him down the hall, and the healer waddles down it with rather impressive speed, given his age and state.
Nolan stays by my side, but I shake my head.
“I can stand long enough to hear what the healer has to say,” I say, not because I feel like I deserve to get updates about Charlie, but because I know if I remain here on the couch, Nolan will stay with me. Charlie is his friend. He’s never betrayed her. She deserves to have him by her side.
So I stand. And Nolan accompanies me back to the room.
Charlie is still. Maddox appears to have extracted himself from her side in a hurry, as if he fears what the healer might assume. As if he’s still expecting to face Charlie’s wrath on the other side of this.
Because he still believes there is another side of this.
“Now, explain to me how the girl is injured,” the healer says. He glances at the wound. “Did the arrow shaft break off, or did you remove it yourself?”
“It wasn’t an arrow,” says Maddox. He fumbles for a way to explain. “It was fired from a device similar to a cannon.”
“It was a bullet,” Nolan says, his voice oddly calm. Serene. Almost rehearsed, as if the emotion has bled entirely out of it, and he’s relying on subconscious memory to speak.
“Do you have an idea of the size of the projectile?” asks the healer.
Nolan makes a ring with his forefinger to demonstrate.
The healer whistles. “Well,” he says, looking down at the soaked makeshift bandage, “we’ll have to get the bleeding to stop first before worrying about its removal. It’s a shame people create weapons such as those. New ways to kill each other every day.”
My heart aches. I stare at Charlie. Anger reddens Maddox’s face, but none of us can bring ourselves to contradict the healer. None of us can find the words to explain.
The healer reaches into his satchel and grabs a potion, which he presses to Charlie’s lips. She does not drink.
“Very well,” he says, ripping a piece of gauze and soaking it in the potion instead. He then presses it to the inside of her cheek, leaving his finger there.
“I don’t want her to accidentally swallow it,” he explains. “But the medicine will absorb through the fleshy part of the cheek. Should help the blood clot.”
His words slap me across the face. I should’ve thought to search Malia’s satchel for more of the anti-hemorrhaging potion.
My mind hadn’t even gone that far. And yet again, I’ve betrayed my friend.
How much blood did she lose unnecessarily,when I might have had the anti-hemorrhaging potion on me?
“Should do the trick. If we can manage to stay the blood flow, I’ll be able to operate and remove the, eh, small cannon ball, as you call it,” the healer says. “Should I be alerting the authorities? That we have a killer on the loose?”
“She’s not dead,” says Maddox, jaw set.
“No, of course not,” the healer answers as he works. “It just seems that was the assailant’s intention. And if the village is in trouble?—”
“There’s no trouble,” says Nolan.
“Very well,” says the healer, packing up his things. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“You’re leaving?” asks Maddox.
The healer sighs. “There’s nothing else I can do for the moment. She needs rest. She’ll need to be in a more stable condition before I try to remove anything. I’ve already cleaned the wound. Besides, the morning’s only a few hours away. I won’t be gone long. Unless there’s anything else?—”
He stops when his gaze lands on me. At the blood on my legs.
“Is that yours?” he asks.
“Yes, but I’m fine,” I say.
