Satin's Tale: Dealings Done

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Complicated Terms

When her returned with her fresh clothes, Whistler was still wiping at her groin carefully, rinsing the cloth in the water in between as she tried to get all of the blood, dried and not, out of her hair.  She was still lying back, mindful of her chest wounds, with her bandaged thigh spread out to the side slightly and her other knee raised enough to put her foot flat on the ground.  Satin stood back for a moment, waiting with hesitation, but she dropped the cloth in the bucket a moment later and left it there, relaxing again with a sigh.

“Ah, that’ll have to do.  Not like I ain’t due in a couple of days anyhow.”  She put one hand to her forehead.  “Satin, there’s a waterskin in my things as well, could you go get it?”  He nodded and crossed the camp again.  The skin was easy to find amongst her things, tucked away next to where her injury kit had been.  It was half full, and had a faintly sweet smell that he couldn’t identify, though it struck him that it must be very strong if he could smell it even while the cap was closed.  Whistler took it from him with a grateful smile when he returned, unfastening the cap and taking a long drink.  Satin smelled the odour from it more strongly for a few moments before she sealed it up again and handed it back to him. 

“I probably shouldn’t,” she began, answering his questioning look.  “It’s a herbal mix, with a little alcohol.  It’s good for dulling pain, but it also makes your head fuzzy and puts you to sleep.  I’d have taken some before, but you needed my help.  You still do, but the grogginess won’t kick in for a little while.  Long enough, now, I think.”  She smirked.  “And I really needed a drink.”  Satin set the skin down and knelt beside her again, helping her pull on the clean underwear and leggings.  She sighed happily once they were laced up properly.

“Much better.  I was starting to get cold.”  Satin studied her face.

“You seem so calm about all this.  You’re badly injured; some of these will scar and never go away.”

“Aye, perhaps, but, what else can we do, hmm?  Besides, you might be surprised, Satin, but I trust you.  You’re honest still, and you mean well, and I know you’re a good kid, so I feel like I can trust you to do your best for me.”  She paused.   “You’re a lot more like him than you realise.”  Satin flinched.

“Don’t say that.”  The words were spoken before he’d even thought them completely, uttered with a quick vehemence.  Whistler closed her eyes, nodding.

“Alright, I won’t.  Let’s get this finished up then.”  She winked at him again.  “Young boy or not, Marley might not like it too much if he gets back to find you groping the chest of the woman he loves, no?”  Satin couldn’t help a small smirk at this, simply for the absurdity of the comment.

He cleaned the excess blood from both halves of the wound across her chest, as well as wiping it away from the areas where it had run or pooled.  Whistler commented that she’d gotten lucky with the chest wound, since it had bled clean and free, for the most part, then sealed over itself where the blood had clotted.  The only place that still bled sluggishly was where the cut crossed the soft skin of her breast.  As Satin looked at it, Whistler reached one hand up to push her breast up and in, more into the position it would have been in when the cut had been made.

“Lying down might have made this one a bit worse, honestly, but we needed to for the others.  I’ve been feeling the pull on the skin ever since you started, but it’s not too bad.”  She yawned, raising the other hand to her mouth.  “Good thing I’ve not got more up here, or it would have been worse.  Makes your job easier, at least.”  She looked down, trying to see the injury more clearly herself, then lay back again with a small sigh.  “Ah, it doesn’t seem quite as bad as I thought, and I just want this done with so I can rest.  Still need to stitch this worst bit of it though, if I want it to heal neat.”  Here she made a frustrated sound at the prospect of further needlework. 

The water had cooled significantly, and Satin doubted the needle would heat enough for this last set of work.  Instead he stood, returning to the fire, and crouched close to it, holding the needle by the very end.  Reaching out, he held the point carefully in the lowest part of one of the flames, wincing as the heat of being so close to the actual fire began to scald his hand.  After a few moments he took the needle away again, wiping it and his hand with the still damp cloth, and returned to Whistler.  She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Water cool?  Thought as much.  You know why it’s important kid?”  He shook his head.

“I thought, maybe to make it pierce more easily, but that’s not right.”  He pinched the needle a few times, still hot in his fingers, as he re-threaded it.  Whistler shook her head.

“Aye, that’s not it.  It’s to make sure it’s good and clean, you see.  You can’t tell if something’s clean enough to stick someone with, without making them sick, just by looking at it.  Scald it like this though, and that’ll do you most of the time.  Don’t rightly know why, but it’s what my Ma taught me, and it’s not been wrong yet.  You ready?  I’ll try to hold everything still so you can work properly.  Shouldn’t need too many here, just a few at the point where it’s been pulled the most, ought to do it.”  After a moment she gave Satin the nod as he waited, hands poised above her chest, and he set to work. 

He grit his teeth against the sounds of her pain, but at the same time, was a little bit surprised at how quickly it had stopped making him uncomfortable.  As he dipped the needle for the second stitch Whistler’s small gasp became a flinch that shifted her hand and moved the skin around the cut.  She cried out again as the needle tugged free from Stain’s grip and he lifted his hands away reflexively.  She panted for a few moments as they both stilled and she looked at him apologetically.

“That ain’t going to work.  Can’t trust my own hands while you’re working.  Here, just a tic…  Get the needle out would you?”  She shifted carefully once he’d done so, turning slightly onto her side and pinning her upper arm between the ground and the side of her breast.  With her other hand she held her left breast back out of the way and glanced down to the injury.

“That should be a bit better.  Still closed enough to sew up, but I can’t really move the arm properly now, so, should hold still for you.  You right to try again?”  Satin swallowed uncertain, but nodded.

Whistler hissed, flinching again as the needle bit, but it didn’t disrupt the area, and Satin pushed on, closing the worst part of the wound.  He was acutely aware of the curves of her breasts against his cheeks as he bit the thread clean, and backed off again quickly once he was done.  Gingerly, Whistler sat up, still holding her right breast carefully with on hand.  She blew out a long breath.

“Well.  Glad that’s all done with.  Ah well, guess I’ve got to get used to looking like a patchwork from now on then.”  She rushed to continue at his expression.  “Oh not your fault, Satin.  You did great.  Listen, you’re a brave kid, for doing all of this so calmly.  Braver than half the lads here, that’s for sure.”  As she picked up the remaining cloth strips from her shirt she fixed him with a measuring eye.  “And I’ll tell you something else.  Hold out your hand, flat.”  When he did so, she smiled and shook her head.  “See?  Not a ripple.  You’re cool like water, kid.”  She began to wrap her middle with the strips, making it twice around with each before tucking it into the next, gradually covering the lower half of her chest wound, sealed over in blood as it was already.  “When we got here, you were terrified, practically trembling with worry you were… but those hands.  You needed ‘em to be still, and so they were.  There’s not many as can do that, you know.”  With the lower wrap done she picked up the clean breast-bindings he’d brought earlier and seemed to contemplate how to do them up while being mindful of her injuries.  After a moment she rolled her eyes and waved Satin closer again.

“I’ll get you to help me put this on in a moment, awkward thing.  First, though, almost forgot.  Need to protect the stitches a bit more.  Go to my things, in the bundle I keep clothes in, down the bottom you’ll find a few sets of folded cloth, broad and flat.  Bring me one.  Oh, and grab one of my other shirts too.”  She scrubbed at her face with the hand that wasn’t still gingerly supporting her stitched breast, stifling another yawn.  Satin returned with her things and took the folded cloth.  It was a folded a little bit longer than the length of her hand, and she laid it carefully along the length of the stitched area.  As she handed him the bindings next, she laughed softly.

“You should be pleased.  You’re learning something most men never do.  Ok.  Start with the centre of the strip, on the centre of my back, a few inches below where my breasts sit.  Touch lower.  Good.”  She instructed him in tying the bindings carefully, holding the protective cloth in place as he moved about her slowly.  When it was done she stretched her arms and took a deep breath.  “Well done.  I’ll make a physician out of you yet.”  She carefully pulled on her fresh shirt and tugged on the laces, tightening the neck a little, then took another drink from the waterskin containing her pain dulling mix.  She lay back again a moment later, sighing and closing her eyes.

“Second time today someone’s saved my life.  I’d be dead now but for both of you.  Boys’ll think I’m getting careless.”  She smiled to herself.  Satin sat with his head in his hands, watching her.

“Who?”

“Ah, you don’t want to know, kid.”

“Marley?”  She nodded without opening her eyes.

“Tell me.”  One eye opened, looking at him, then drifted shut again.  When she spoke there was a hint of distance in her voice.

“Well, like I said before, two of the newest boys jumped headlong into a fight they couldn’t handle, just after we’d struck.  They thought they had it easy, but the men were better trained and better armed than we’d planned for, and they didn’t notice until it was too late.”  She turned onto her side, facing the fire with one arm under her head.

“I saw what was going on, and told James I was going to help ‘em; he had our bit covered.  I tried to save the blighters and pull them back, but I wasn’t fast enough.  One of them got himself a spear-tip through the neck as he was trying to get his guard up, other one…  I didn’t see, but he was down somehow in a mess of his own blood and...  well, let’s say there was no saving him.  I did my best after they went down, but there were four of them still wanting to fight by the time it was just me, and I don’t do defensive so well.  I like to hit before they can fight back, or strike hard and fast enough that they’ve no room to strike back… always worked well enough so long as I pick my own fights.  I killed one of them, got another one well enough in the arm to make him drop his shield, but…”  She trailed off, falling silent for a moment.

“After one of them got me the first time, I lost my bearings and barely managed to stop the next ones from killing me.  Next thing I know, Marley’s there between me and them as I’m falling down.  All I could see clearly was his back for a moment as he went after them, silent like death and fast.  I remember seeing the look on his face as he fought them, just for a moment.  You don’t get in Marley’s way when he’s got that look on his face.  It’s rage and anger, but it’s cold.  When he’s that angry, that coldly furious, he just…  He makes it seem like he’s not even trying, like killing you is… is… beside the point, a certainty that he’s just… dealing with.  Then he was carrying me, talking to me, trying to keep me focused, you know.  Took me out to Shoes and the horses, shouted at the poor man to look after me and stop the bleeding while he ‘cleaned up this bloody mess’…  I remember I was a bit confused for a bit, because to me, I was the bloody mess, you see.”  She chuckled here, and for the first time didn’t seem visibly pained from doing so.  Satin looked thoughtful as he stood, packing up and Whistler’s kit and putting back the other things he’s used.  Whistler was sitting up again by the time he was done and she held out a hand to him.

Helping the woman up, they made their way across to her bedroll where she lay out again with a small sigh.

“Satin, could you grab what's left of my old bindings, the ones that got cut, and put ‘em next to my things?  Anything that’s left of the shirt too.  I’ll boil them and clean them, then turn ‘em into more bandages later.  Thanks kid.  Now, let’s talk about something, alright?  I don’t want to drift off to sleep before Marley and the others get back.  Got some things to tell him.”  Sitting down beside her again, Satin leaned back on his hands.  He didn’t understand how to make idle talk particularly well, preferring to watch and listen to others.  He found a thought rising to the top of his mind and bit his lip, unsure how to say it.

“Whistler… Can I ask…”  He struggled to find a way to form the question.  “Adult things, sleeping together…”  She raised her eyebrows at him, grinning in a vaguely surprised manner.

“Hmm?”

“The others, Speedy and Violet, they sort of share the men as they want.  I’ve noticed that Hangnail much prefers to lie with Violet, when she’s interested, and Speedy will usually pick James to go to, more often than the others, and Felaren is always asking Speedy… but they all sort of… mix around, depending on how they’re feeling, it seems.  But you don’t.  You only ever lie with Marley.  Why?”  Whistler blinked much more surprised than before.

“Not the question I was expecting.  I guess we grabbed you far too young for common people’s values to stick, didn’t we?  Hmm, how can I put this...”  She seemed to think for a minute.

“Sharing your body’s a personal thing.  Folk do it because their bodies want them to, and it’s enjoyable, most of the time, but most people will only share themselves with someone they love or trust.  Out here, on our own, away from anyone else, we’re all a band, and we all put our lives in each other’s hands every time we head out on a raid.  That, and, well, we are away from anyone else most of the time, and all of our bodies still have their needs after all.”  She paused, tapping her fingers as she thought.  “But I…  I love Marley enough that, I don’t want to share myself with anyone else, if it can be with him…  When I want someone, I want it to be him, and I don’t want anyone else.  That’s the only reason there ever is, out here.”

“And Marley?”  Whistler shrugged and smiled at his question.

“I’ve told you all about how it is, kid, but you believe whatever you need to for now.”  She put her hands behind her head, lying on her back again and looking up at the morning sky.  Satin sat back in silence, gazing into the fire and thinking.  He knew Marley had never gone to anyone besides Whistler either.

A sound roused him a short while later and he jumped up.  The rest of the band had finally made it back and were beginning to unload and tend their horses, while a few of them were assisting injured friends into the middle of the camp.  Marley strode over towards Satin and Whistler in a hurry, looking as intent as ever.  His eyes scanned the woman quickly, taking in her clean clothes and the visible bandages, and he seemed to relax slightly.  His eyes fixed on Satin.

“How is she?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine…”  Whistler roused, sitting up carefully and stiffly, one hand holding her chest protectively while the other covered her middle.  “The kid’s a miracle worker.”  She tried to stand, slowly, and took hold of Satin’s shoulder for support, eventually facing Marley with a grin.  “Might never be pretty again, but I’ll keep.”  She stumbled slightly after a moment.  “Dizzy.  I mean it though.  Satin’s got good hands.  He’ll be able to treat the others today, if I tell him what to do.  Stitched me up better than a seamstress.”  Satin met eyes with Marley as the older man looked at him.  When he spoke it was with an unusual note of gravity.

“Thank you, lad.  You acted fast and well, and I’m in your debt today.”  Satin couldn’t quite make out what he felt but he managed a small smile.

“We have to help each other; the world certainly isn’t going to throw us any free passes, right Old Man?”  Marley barked a laugh.

“Right you are.  Alright, most of the boys are taking care of the sorting and unloading, but we’ve got a few other fools who’ve got themselves cut up a little.  Nothing so bad as you’ve already dealt with, I’ll wager.”  He looked back to Whistler then.

“I’ll bring you both something to eat once it’s all been sorted and the like.  I’m no healer, but I can see you need to get some food into you before you pass out.”  He nodded to both of them once more, then turned, heading back towards where they were unloading and ordering their spoils.  Whistler squeezed Satin’s should, looking down at him.

“Know you’re tired kid, we all are, but let me lean on you a bit longer, and we’ll get these daft boys patched up.”  Satin nodded slightly and grabbed her patching kit again.

“Sure.”

It was another hour before Satin could drop down onto his own sleeping mat, unable to stay awake any longer.  He rolled over, burying his head in the crook of one arm and blocking the sun from his eyes.  Most of the work had been straight forward.  A few gashes and cuts, a couple of sprains; mostly things that just needed cleaned or covered.  One man, Dancer, had needed a line of stitches in his forearm, but it had proved much simpler than any of Whistler’s injuries.  Somewhere along the way, word had gotten around as to the extent of Whistlers injuries and treatment, and he had received many laughing comments about seeing sights that most men would pay money for.  Underneath it all, though, the memory of Marley’s face when he had first helped Satin shift Whistler onto his horse, the staunchly hidden fear and uncertainty, never quite left his mind.

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