Curse or a Blessing

Chapter two: A Bloody Affair

Stab wounds were no laughing matter, especially when the thing that punctured the person in the first place was taken out again. The initial rip of flesh would be compounded as the flesh was once again rended as the knife gets pulled from the body. It would also stop any clotting factor that might have taken place, which was a necessary process in stopping the loss of blood and would hinder the chances of the person's survival. Stanching the flow of lifeblood from such an injury was a messy, complicated affair. Sarcelle would rather handle the matter in her workshed where all the necessary tools and equipment were readily available and she had complete privacy.

Alas, it became painfully clear the man with raven hair had far more ailments than simply a deep gash to his midsection as he and his friend got closer. Blood was saturating what had probably at one time been a white shirt from many tiny slashes all over his torso and face. He would not make it the few hundred feet behind the weather-worn cottage, let alone barely stumble to her front door. His ashen pallor belied the urgency of the matter.

"Help, please," the second man pleaded, with strain in his voice. "My friend is badly wounded."

She rushed as fast as her feet would take her and her cotton skirt would allow. The wooshing of the wind and the agonized moans of the man filled her ears.

Both men collapsed just before the steps, and Sarcelle instinctually leaned down to catch them but stopped herself just in time. The insistent ache in her core begging her to touch the injured man told her she needed gloves first. She could not risk her self-control.

She reached into her skirts and quickly donned her gardening gloves. She then proceeded to rip said skirts. Assessing the patient, she put the fabric to the wound.

"Put pressure here. We need to get you inside so I can figure out how to stop the bleeding properly."Quickly as she could with her clumsy fingers not willing to cooperate without a fight, Sarcelle wrapped the fabric around the man's abdomen and tied it as tight as she could without ripping the makeshift dressing. The unconscious man groaned, but she didn't have time to care as more blood seeped through his bound wound.
"Do you think you can stand?"

The other  man's face was scrunched up in a grimace. His steely gray eyes met her's with the same sense of determination as he nodded his acquiescence, hazel curls falling into his face with the motion.

"Good,"she said as she hooked her arm on the opposite right side. "On a count of three. One. Two-"

With a collective grunt of effort, they were back on their feet however precariously.
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With a groaning of splintered wood, the lucid one of the two man kicked in the door to the cottage. They basically dragged the half-conscious man across the threshold.

Sarcelle paid no mind to the bloody mess they must be leaving in their wake as she helped heave the men down the long hallway, through the dining room and down the short stairs to the kitchen area.

There was loud feminine chatter and then all of a sudden silence. Nine pairs of curious and shocked eyes looked upon their haphazard arrival.

"What in God's name-", Theodora, the most sniveling and conniving of all the maids, broke the silence first. "Sarcelle, is that you?! What the bloody hell do you think your- is that blood?" The last part was said with a strangled gasp.

Not even giving the comments a seconds notice, Sarcelle used her wide hips to make room and swept her leg out to clear people from their path.
There were some mumbled curses and more demands, as well as some growled comments from the other man, but Sarcelle's mind was currently one-tracked. She flit her eyes about the tiny room looking for a suitable space.
She'd have to make use of the cooking table as a makeshift operating space, she decided.