Revolting

Chapter Seven - Camp in the Woods HannahNôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

I pushed another stick into the small fire, and stirred the pot of stew. I wished to god I had more to put in it than the little bit of squirrel meat, and the vegetables I'd stolen from the garden. Even just a little salt would have made it more palatable. With a sigh I left the pot to boil, and went to my brother. He was lying on a deerskin, covered with a quilt that I had pulled off from some farm woman's clothes line. I didn't want to steal, I didn't like to be a thief, but for my brother I would do anything.

I pulled back the quilt and tried not to gag. The wound in his shoulder was putrid and septic. His whole shoulder and chest was red and inflamed, while the wound itself oozed pus. The stink of the infection made me throw up in my mouth every time I looked at it. I would have to boil water and try to clean it again. Whatever poison the hunters had used on the arrow, it was preventing him from healing. For nearly two weeks now it had festered, while fevers raged through his body and he faded in and out of consciousness. His handsome face had grown gaunt, and his beard had grown in, making him look even worse. His lips were dry and cracked, and his beautiful brown eyes were dull with pain. "Hannah?" He reached for me weakly. "Where have you been?"

I looked away from his ravished face, glancing back at the fire. "I went for food."

He grimaced, and his eyes rolled up toward the tree tops. "Please tell me... you didn't go back to that pack..."

I swallowed, but I wouldn't lie to him. Yes, I'd gone back onto the pack lands. They were a new pack in the area, still small enough that their security could easily be breeched. I smeared myself with the herbs that covered my scent, and raided their gardens in the pre-dawn hours. I felt the pinch of guilt, every time I crossed the boundary. I remembered the day the beta had found me under the tree. He had been kind and gentle to me, even though I was trespassing on his lands. "Heath, they are nice people. Let me go to them, let me ask them for help," I begged him, not for the first time.

"No. Damn it, Hannah, never trust a pack." "But the beta--"

"And when they find out that you've been stealing from them? Do you think they will be kind to you then?" He hissed. I ducked my head in shame. I did what I had to do, that's all. And I'd do it again. Heath had taken care of me, and protected me since we were both small children. Now it was my turn to provide for him. I was admittedly, a lousy hunter, at least when I was stalking prey on my own. Once or twice a week I managed to bring in some small game, but it was not enough to feed the both of us.

"Never... trust a pack." Heath growled again, tugging at my hand listlessly. "Promise me..."

I didn't promise him anything, but luckily he was too weak to argue. I went to the fire to dish some of the stew into an old cracked coffee mug I'd found along the road. All of the objects in our little camp were things I had scavenged or stolen. I took the spoon with the bent handle and tasted a sip of the broth. It was watery and tasteless... but I hoped somehow it would deliver some nutrition and strength to my brother.

I couldn't lose him. I was praying day and night that the goddess would have mercy on us, and his tired body would rally to defeat whatever poison had coated that hateful arrow that had buried itself just above his pectoral muscle, near his shoulder. Heath was all I had in this world, and if I lost him... I couldn't bear to think about it. I couldn't survive as a rogue on my own, and I wouldn't want to.

I carefully helped him sit up a little, and slid behind him, so that his head and shoulders were supported on my thighs, giving him enough leverage so that he could eat the boring mix of young carrots, greens, tiny beets, radishes and summer squash. He had no appetite, but I begged him to try, "Please, Heath," I said tearfully. "Please, you must... for me."

And for me, my beloved brother choked down a bit of the tasteless stew. After only a few half-hearted bites, he turned away, and sagged back into my lap, exhausted, just from the act of trying to eat. His sweet brown eyes drifted closed, and I was left, smoothing his wild hair, crying silently.

I thought again of the blue-eyed beta who had stumbled upon me. He'd seemed so kind, so genuinely caring. He hadn't yelled or even threatened me for being on his land. Instead he had offered me his hand. I had run away when Heath called to me, but the beta hadn't given chase. I had veered away from camp and headed north, expecting that the beta and his human companion would try to follow. I didn't want to lead them straight back to Heath.

I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve. Maybe it would have been better if they HAD followed me. Maybe the tall man with the kind eyes could have given us assistance. Maybe they had medicines, or even a doctor in their pack. But then again, upon seeing a male, they might have slaughtered us both. Pack wolves were fiercely territorial, and they would not tolerate rogues trespassing. They might have had mercy on me because I was an unmated she-wolf, but that didn't mean they were going to accept my brother. Unconsciously, I reached up and ran my fingers over the ridges of the scar on the left side of my face. I knew first-hand how cruel pack wolves could be.

I carefully slid out from under my brother, and lay his head back down on the makeshift pillow I had fashioned out of my old sweater. I backed myself up until my back was resting against the rough bark of a tree, and took the cup of stew that my brother hadn't finished. It was terrible, but I knew I must keep my strength up. Heath was depending on me. I felt another hot tear trail down my cheek. My brother needed help, he needed things that I didn't know how to provide. If he died, it would be all my fault.

It is always my fault.