Satin's Tale: Dealings Done

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Touch and Go

Satin head Whistler grunt roughly as his small horse settled into her top speed, but her gait was mercifully smooth compared to Marley’s larger, heavier mount.

“Good thing you’re still such a slight kid, otherwise there mightn’t have been room for both of us, eh Satin?”  Talking sounded like an effort for her, but she seemed determined to keep herself focused on something, so Satin responded.

“What happened, Whistler?  What went wrong?”

“Ah, some of the newer boys.  Got a bit of an idea about what being an outlaw is like, or what they think it’s like.  Got a fair bit more brave than skill to go with it.  Ahh!”  She winced and Satin felt her hands clutch around his waist tighter for a moment.  Her voice was quiet when she spoke again.

“Had, I suppose.  Aye, was going clean enough, but there were a few of the menfolk armed and ready when we hit, unexpected.  New boys, they went after them fierce, but recklessly.  I tried to help ‘em out, but it didn’t do ‘em any good in the end, and did me ill.”  Satin could feel the warmth of her body against his back, but it was more than that.  He was sure the heat he was feeling was from her injury, and the blood seeping through from her clothes into his.  The fire from the camp came into sight and Satin urged for more speed.

“Almost there Whistler, we’ll have you cleaned up and sorted out soon.”

“I just… I just want to fall asleep, and I know that ain’t good, kid.  The pain’s dull, and it shouldn’t be.”  Her words sounded more murmured than spoken, and Satin, almost without thinking, reached back to slap her lightly across the cheek with the back of his fingers.  It was something that had become a sort of joke from her to him, over the years, when she would swat him when he was doing something he couldn’t quite get away with.  He was relieved when she laughed, even as the laugh became a winced groan of pain.

“Fair due, kid, fair due.”

As they rode into the camp, Satin jumped down quickly, and struggled to help Whistler down, wishing that he was taller and strong enough to carry her weight properly.  Limping, he supported her over to the smoothest part of the flattened grass of the camp grounds and helped her to lie out flat on her back.  His mind raced after that, uncertain.  All thoughts of sleep were gone, but noting useful had rushed in to replace them.  He looked down to Whistler who was alternately pinching the webs of flesh between her thumb and fingers, on each hand.

“What…  What can I do?”  She closed her eye, taking a long breath.

“I wonder if this is what irony feels like.  Never understood the word right.  Usually it’s me stitching the boys up.  I’m the only one amongst us as knows what I’m doing, and I’m in no state to see to myself.  Ugh…  I’d never trust any of their ham fists, but your fingers are small and quick.”  She hesitated, taking another long breath.  “Ok, Satin.  I’ll tell you what to do, and you do it, got that.  Don’t question me, just do as I say, even when it hurts me, ok?”  Her eyes were clear as she watched him for confirmation, and Satin nodded nervously, his heart fluttering.  “Good.  Get my kit, you know the one.”

Whistler’s patching kit was a bundle wrapped in thin waxed leather and contained needles, thin thread as well as strips and rolls of fabric.  There were a few other tools too, the possible uses of which he didn’t care to think about.  He’d seen her use it several times while she was treating injuries any of the band had taken, to clean them up and make sure they didn’t get any worse.  Now he grabbed it from her supplies and returned to kneel beside her.  Whistler managed a smile.

“Good.  You’ve got the fire up high, that’s good too, go put some water on to heat, then come back.”

When he returned, Whistler had begun the painful task of stripping off her damaged clothes.  As Satin helped, the extent of her injuries became clearer.  A deep gash started up near her collar bone, tracing down over her right breast, and a second, likely from the same stroke, started again just below it at a shallower angle, cutting down towards her waist.  The strike had completely severed her breast band, though the light shirt and leathers of her clothing could probably be patched later.  As she cast them aside, a small smirk touched her lips.

“No off-colour joke?  Hah, I guess you’re a bit young for that, no?”

“There are other wounds, there’s more blood.”  She nodded at his response, continuing to carefully strip her clothes with his help, moving onto her leggings, which were also sliced and torn multiple times.  A second gash crossed her middle, slanted across the line of her hips, above one, meeting up with the first gash part way across before slicing through the fabric of her underwear, below the line of her other hip.  As she got her leggings off a third deep slice on the inside of her left thigh was revealed.  If anything, this one, though smaller in length, bled more profusely than the others.  Whistler groaned again.

“Ughh…  My head feels…”  She stopped herself.  “Ok, don’t think it’s anything more than deep cuts and blood loss.  That’s good.  Thigh first, what’s it look like?”  Satin pushed her legs apart a bit more to get a proper look, trying not to touch the wound itself.  It ran horizontally across the inside of her thigh, less than an inch below the fabric of her underwear.

“It’s mostly a clean cut, but the ends of it look more ragged, like the skin has torn further.  It’s bleeding a lot still.”

“I’ll bet it is.”  She grunted.  “Staunch it for now while we wait on the water to heat.  Use the strips from my breast bindings for now, they’re not much use anymore.  We’ll clean it when the water’s hot.”  Satin reclaimed the lengths of fabric, folding them over to make a staunch the same length as the cut.  She winced as he pressed it against the wound, pressing firmly.  He felt her hand touch his shoulder for a moment.

“Don’t worry, if the thrust had got what it was aimed at, I’d be dead already, so it’s ok.  Major arteries in the inner thighs, bleed you out in a minute they can.  Not exactly what I wanted between my legs tonight.”  She chuckled, though it turned into a pained sound again.  She sighed afterwards.

“Crack a smile, kid, I’m not going to die.”

“I’m just…  there’s so much blood and I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Well brace yourself, because we’re going to need to stitch it, most likely.  Hold that in place there, but let’s have a look at the others.”  She glanced down her body from where she lay, but Satin had seen her reprimand other patients for trying to look and move while she was treating them, and she didn’t try to sit up.  Satin moved around her slightly to get a better look.  The cut on her torso oozed slowly, a sharp-smelling red that ran in many directions, obscuring the wound itself.  As he examined it, he reached out with his free hand to shift her breast up to get a better look at where the cut tapered off and restarted.

“Hah, don’t ask or anything, kid,” Whistler’s comment made Satin hesitate before blood rushed to his cheeks as he made the connection.  As he started to say something she waved a hand weakly.  “Just teasing Satin.  How’s it look?”  Flustered for a moment, he took a second to respond.

“I can’t tell very well, the blood is going everywhere.  It’s not as bad as the thigh though, it’s shallower.  I think.  The top half looks fairly clean and neat, though it’s bleeding more fiercely on your, um…  here.” He touched at the skin of her breast beside where the cut ran.  “The lower half of it is rougher, like the blade tip tore at the skin, rather than slicing.  It’s hard to tell, but I think that’s mostly coming to a stop on its own already, now that you’re not moving.”  His eyes moved down to the line that ran across her hips.  The cut seemed less severe overall, but had pulled wide in a few places from the contours of her body.

“This one is still bleeding badly, the cut itself seems clean, but it goes over the top of your hip here, then slants down, under the other, and I can’t see it clearly where it’s cut through your underwear.”

“Ah, right, here, help me get these off then.”  She shifted to begin removing the undergarment, then paused when Satin didn’t move to assist her immediately.  “Keep the pressure on the thigh, but give me a hand here, I don’t want to move too much.  Oh calm, down it’s nothing you haven’t…  Hmm…  I guess it might be something you haven’t seen before after all, eh?  Sorry kid, I forget what age you are sometimes.  Don’t sweat it ok, let’s just stay focused and do what needs doing, alright?”  The boy nodded, though the nervous blush didn’t leave his cheeks altogether as he helped her remove the torn garment carefully. 

Underneath, the remainder of the cut was shallower than the top half, likely protected further by the fabric of her underwear, though it had still pulled wide near the hip bone.  She nodded as he relayed the information.

“Water will be hot enough by now I wager, bring it over and we’ll get started, here, I’ll hold that.”  She reached down to hold the staunch against her thigh tightly while Satin retrieved the covered pot he’d set in the fire.  She smiled again as he returned, reassuring.

“Right.  Ok, there’s a wide, thick cloth, folded over on itself a few times that I use for swabbing and cleaning the area around wounds.  Take that, wet it, and get most of the water out again, so it’s damp.  Pair of tongs in the kit too, so you can dip it in the water.”  Satin followed her instructions, squeezing it quickly once after he’d wet it, then shifting it between his hands to stop it from scalding him.  Once he could hold it comfortably he turned back to Whistler and she continued.

“Good, now, I’m going to take this staunch off in a moment, and you’ll need to clean the area with the cloth, wipe off most of the blood from around, but be careful along the actual cut.  Dab and press softly, don’t wipe.”  He nodded, moving to kneel in between her legs so he could see what he was doing clearly.  She winced as he applied the cloth, but nodded at his questioning eye, and he kept on.  Before he was done, she continued.

“When that’s done I want you to use one hand to hold the edges of the skin closed, or close as you can.  You know how to sew, right, kid?”  Satin swallowed as Whistler rummaged in her kit with one hand and came up holding a thin needle and the roll of thread.

“Clothes, yes… not people.”

“Very little difference.  Just, do it as neatly as you can, keep your hands steady, and remember, thread and glide, don’t dig.”

“The bleeding has slowed a lot, but it’s not stopped altogether.”

“And it probably won’t until after you’re done.  Don’t worry about me, it’s going to hurt, nothing we can do about it here and now.”  She threaded the needle as Satin dabbed at the cut and gingerly placed one hand over the length of it, holding it closed between his thumb on one side and fingers on the other.  The smell of blood was metallic in his nose. 

Whistler finished heating the tip of the needle in the water and he accepted it from her with his other hand, and brought it close to the flesh, the point hovering in the air just above one end of the wound.  He glanced up at Whistler again, as she took a deep breath, setting herself.  She nodded once more, grabbing hold of some of the flattened down grass by her side and twisting it around her hand tightly.

“Don’t hesitate or flinch; just keep going ‘til you’re done.”  Blood was oozing slowly over his thumb.  Satin calmed himself for a moment, then began. 

He felt Whistler tense as he pushed the needle through flesh, and tried to ignore the tightly controlled sounds of pain she made as he worked.  The skin stretched against the needle and he grit his teeth, fighting down the growing anxiety as he forced himself to press harder.  The outstrokes proved to be worse, needing even greater force to punch the needle back through.  He did his best to keep his stitches neat and even, forcing himself not to allow them to grow long, despite Whistler’s rigid control slipping more and more the longer he worked.

As he pulled the thread through for his last stich, she let out a ragged cry which turned into a word he knew to be a curse.  The wound still showed signs of very slow bleeding, but he was done.  He leaned down, holding the needle away, to bite off the end of the thread.  He could feel his nose brushing against the curly fuzz of hair at her crotch, tickling him as he tried to find the right angle to bite the thread off cleanly.   

When he sat up again, leaning back on his haunches, he searched for Whistler’s eyes.  He could taste her blood on his lips from where he had bitten he thread, and he wiped it away with the back of a hand, looking to Whistler uncertainly.  There was a coating of sweat on her face, and she was panting, but when she looked down at his uneasy expression she managed a small grin.

“Whew… glad that’s done with.  Thought it would never end.  Felt like the stitches were well short enough to do the job.  That’ll be the worst of it, but we won’t be putting the needle away just yet, worse luck.”  She propped herself up slightly on her elbows, being careful to keep her leg still, and looked down at herself.

“Let’s do the lower one next, then I’ll be able to try putting some pants on and save you the embarrassment.”  Satin ducked his head.

“It, It’s ok, I’m not…”  She gestured with a hand, a small wave.

“You’re a young boy approaching an age when all of this” she waved at herself, “is going to become a whole lot more interesting to you.  A couple more years and this all might have been impossible.”  She lay back again, groaning.  “And anyway, as Marley might say, ‘World doesn’t care about your decency!’, and he’d be right too; practicality before propriety and all that.  Ugh…  I should be cold, but the cuts burn and sting.  Better sign than not feeling them at all, though.  Head’s still a light, but I think I’ll be fine.  Light I need something to eat.  And a drink.  It’ll wait until you’re done here though.”  Satin set about re-dampening the cloth and cleaning away the blood obscuring the gash across her hips.  A deal of blood had run down to seep through and coat the thick forest of her groin, but he hesitated and opted not to move the cloth there.  He returned to her words in an attempt to distract himself.

“Marley.  He…”  He bit his lip.  “He seemed very worried for you, frantic, panicked even, I’d say.”  Whistler sighed, smiling softly despite her discomfort.

“Aye, I imagine he was.  Reheat the needle; it looks like you’ll need to put in a few stitches where it’s pulled itself wide, here and here.  Rest should heal well enough without, I hope, once it’s covered properly.  Don’t worry, not so bad here, the skin’s not nearly so sensitive.”  Satin nodded and held the needle in the still steaming water.

“I’ve never seen him like that before.  He seemed so…”  He looked for the words.  “He’s always seemed so in control of everything, all the time.  But then, he wasn’t.”  Again Whistler nodded.

“Well, that’s what can happen to a person when you hold someone you love, bleeding out in your arms, and don’t know how to save them.  I might have died too, if you hadn’t shown up.  That horse of yours, fast one, and a smooth ride.”  Satin paused in what he was doing, eye of the needle in one hand and the thread in the other.

“Love?  That man doesn’t love anything.”  He put on a voice.  “World doesn’t care about love!”  Whistler closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Still such a young boy.  Here, I’m ready, get it done, same as before, alright.”  Satin resisted the temptation to answer back, instead setting to his task with care.  Whistler tensed beneath his hands, her breaths hissing between her teeth.  She continued to talk, though her words were punctuated by tight gasps and exclamations as the needle dipped.

“Can’t... Ahh… Can’t say I blame you… For thinking or…  Ow… or for feeling like that.  You’ve the right to…  Hahh… But he’s a man, with a heart and feelings, just like…  Ahh… just like any other.  He’s a strong man, and a hard man, and…  and sometimes he can be cruel to make his point.  But I trust him, and I love him, and I know he loves me too.”  Satin leaned down to bit off the string and reheated the needle to begin on the other place she had said would need stitching.  He paused before starting again, sitting back as he held the needle in the water.

“I can’t stop hating him.  I can’t forgive him, or accept him.  I mean to kill him one day, for what he’s done.”

“I figured.  Know this though, kid.  If it ever comes to pass that you try, and if somehow you can, then I would die to save him, in a heartbeat.  I’d protect him with my life if he needed and I could.  I want you to think about that, but not just about the fact of it, you know.  Think about what that means.  Think about me, and who I am, making a choice like that, hmm?”  Satin averted his eyes from her level gaze.

“I don’t understand that.”

“You will someday, Satin.  You’re a bright boy.  Now get on with it.”  Satin nodded.

The second set of stitches, below her hip, seemed to cause Whistler more pain than the first side had, but only slightly, and Satin worked as swiftly as he could.  Once he was done, she instructed him to clean off the two injuries again, before retrieving the long, folded strips of cloth from the bundle.  They were wide, but thin, and there turned out to be much more than Satin had first expected.

“Just got to get them wrapped and covered now, before I can get some fresh underthings on.  Start with the thigh again.  Wrap it around the whole leg, firm, but not too tight.  Start at least a few inches below the wound, and wrap around so it’s always at least two layers thick, until you’re a couple of inches above it.”  Satin began, lifting her leg gingerly for each pass of the makeshift bandages, but hesitated once the wrapping was over the cut.

“Uh, Whistler?  I can’t wrap it any further, there’s no more space between the cut and your groin.  I’ll, um, start catching hair if I try to wrap it further.”  She blinked.

“Oh, right.  Well, top of the leg will have to do then.  Tie it off there, and I’ll be careful with it.”  Once he had done so she lifted and moved her leg slowly.  “Strange as it sounds, that feels good, kid, as good as it can, anyhow.  This other one’s going to be more trouble though.  Awkward spot.  Don’t think there’s really enough wrap spare to waste on a full cover, like it wants, let’s see…”  She reached out beside her to grab the soft shirt she had been wearing under her leather armour, sliced open across the front now.  She seemed to contemplate for a moment, holding it up as she lay back.

“I was thinking to just patch this, but needs must.  Anyhow, take one of the wraps and we’ll cover the cut itself directly with that, to keep it clean at least.  Then we’ll cover it over and do the rest of the binding with this.  Here, help me tear it down into lengths.  Don’t worry about the blood, long as the cut itself is covered with the clean wrap, it’ll be fine for now.”

Satin did most of the work tearing the shirt down, Whistler working slowly as she tried not to aggravate the still open slice down the length of her torso.  The bleeding had all but completely stopped from it, save for the point where it crossed the curve of her breast, but Satin didn’t suppose for a moment that that meant it hurt any less.  Or, he reminded himself, that she was any less weakened from blood loss that she had been at first, despite her show of strength.

Actually binding the wound proved awkward and difficult, but they managed between them.  After Satin had tied of the clean central bandage, he began applying the outer wrap, over it.  The blood-stained cloth felt rough and clammy, but Whistler urged him on and he continued.  When it was done, she placed her hands carefully over the injury, patting it down with a cautious hand.

“Good.  As good as I’d hoped.  Right, nip over to my things then, and grab me some clean underthings and my other pair of leggings.”  She smiled at him, then winked.  “Don’t worry, I’ll clean up the parts of me that you missed while you do that.”  Satin blushed, despite trying not to and Whistler laughed, breaking off into a short, pained exclamation, though her grin didn’t fade.

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