Worlds Apart

Exposure

Ringing the bell beside the Lift, the guards appearing in masses before our balcony as I take the opportunity to change into at least my olive tunic and pants, their pace hurried as they rush Eadric off haphazardly to the medic tent, it all happens in a blur, and yet I know I only have so long to operate on him. Kiche must be off sight as the tent is practically deserted once we enter, Apache clearly flustered as he looks around for any assistance from anyone other than myself as he hauls Eadric through the translucent curtain.

This does little to prevent me from voicing my thoughts.

"Set him on the table and stand back." I instruct, my voice hard and gaze measured all the same. I busy myself with pushing away the guards hands over Eadric's neck before placing mine over the cloth on top of the wound. That is when I see his eyes are now closed.

"Sir, he's passed out." A guard voices, looking to Apache who looks to the young leader with a conflicted expression.

"But we carried him the whole way." Apache protests.

I shake my head. "The blood loss in relation to the sickness currently surging through his veins is enough to make anyone pass out. His size is the only reason it took this long-"

"Is there anyone here?" Apache tries, effectively cutting me off.

Only one less experienced Healer comes forth from the shadows. I do not remember ever seeing her here.

"What do we have?" The woman asks, her icey hair and eyes practically glowing off the moonlight as she comes up beside the guards.

"A laceration, deep cut, over his neck and a protrusion from his stomach." I voice, catching the woman's attention.

She looks me over disapprovingly for a moment before suddenly coming to my side where she abruptly removes my hands I had recently placed over his neck before placing her own over the wound instead.

"Alright, we should prepare for stitching. The supplies should be in the back, and grab some wrapping while you're at it. He'll need it over his neck once the wound has been stitched up-"

"That is if you don't kill him first."

The woman's beady eyes dart to me before she narrows them condescendingly.

"Excuse me?"

"Your hands are on the wrong place over his neck. They should be positioned slightly downward-"

"I'm stopping the bleeding." She declares.

"You're also cutting off the functions of his trachea, meaning he's currently not breathing."

I watch the doubt carries over her expression before she looks down to Eadric. All eyes are now on him while I take a couple steps forward before repositioning the woman's hands into the proper spot over his neck. You could hear a pin drop, the tension in the room amounting to unbearable heights until Eadric's chest suddenly surges upwards, his lips parting as he takes a deep breath in.

The whole room seems to relax some then, the guards jostling each other in relief while I cannot help but notice Apache's stillness as his eyes refuse to remove themselves from his Commanders. His eyes remain on Eadric, watching him closely for any signs of discomfort like a concerned father would watch over his son. I have never seen him like this before.

"Alright, look," I begin, redrawing the guards attention back to me, "it's clear I'm going to have to be the one to perform this operation. But in order to do this I'm going to need some supplies. More specifically cloth, alcohol, preferably two bottles, a hollow tube, small, the size of my finger, and it needs to be long and flexible. Oh, I'm also going to need tape or just more cloth and something sticky to hold it in place. The laceration over his neck I can repair with remote ease but it'll need stitching in order for me to do so. The other piece protruding from his stomach can be removed but I'll need to stitch it up afterwards. We don't have much time to do this. Was any part of my instruction unclear?"