Chapter 47: Healing Wounds

The old woman’s eyebrows knit together, her hands running the length of Willow’s body. The gaping wound on her ribs was deep. The bullet had lodged itself into one of the bones narrowly missing her spine. She murmured quietly underneath her breath, and pushed a finger inside of the damage, fishing for the bullet.
Willow’s comatose body spasmed and fresh blood spurted onto the woman’s hands. Garin jerked forward but was held back by Audrey and Cole. “Let her do her job. There is nothing you can do right now,” she said to him underneath her breath. His eyes were full of unshed tears. His entire countenance looked helpless.
“You need to give her space. You’ll be able to see her once she is done. Come on,” she tugged his arm and dragged him back to the fire. He sat heavily, his head in his arms. She rubbed his back and her worried eyes met Cole’s above his back.
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The bullet hit the tray next to her with a crisp metallic thunk. Loriann was holding Willow’s arms down while the wise woman stitched together the gaping hole, her stitches neat and even. She smeared an antiseptic smelling salve over the sewn skin and wrapped it tightly in clean bandages. Her hand paused above Willow’s abdomen.
She pressed down lightly and closed her eyes. A smile carved its way across her ancient face. “Interesting,” she murmured.
“What?” Loriann asked, her face haggard.
“It is not my story to tell. She will be fine. Sore, but she will live. It will be best if she is on bed rest for a few days while everything heals. She will be good as new in a week,” the woman replied and plunged her gory hands into the bucket of hot soapy water next to her. Loriann sagged with relief.
The color had started to come back into Willow’s lips. They were thankfully no longer purple. Loriann gently wrapped a clean white robe around her and tucked a blanket up to her shoulders. She pressed a kiss to Willow’s brow, she was still a bit chilly but thankfully not feverish.
With a groan, she pushed herself to her feet and left the room. Garin and the other two hunters were slumped near the hearth, the elder wolves watching them warily. Loriann glanced around and saw that the pack hadn’t returned yet. She prayed that there were not too many casualties. With a deep breath, she walked towards Garin, who looked pale.
He shot to his feet when he saw her. She held her hands out to stop him as he opened his mouth. “She’s fine, she just needs to rest. She should be good in about a week but she needs to be on bed rest for a day or two. Thankfully we heal quickly,” his face collapsed in relief.
“Thank god. Can I sit in there with her?” he pleaded. Loriann took in his distraught face. With a sigh, she nodded.
“Just don’t wake her up,” she called as he hurried into the room. She turned back to face the other two. “So, I’m guessing you helped my granddaughter.”
“Yes, ma'am,” the tall raven-haired man replied.
“Don’t call me ma'am. Makes me feel old. When the pack gets back, we might need some help. Are you two able to lend a hand?” they both nodded.
“Good. There is some food through there. Help yourself and I wouldn’t make any sudden movements.” She walked away with a laugh at their faces.
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“Keena! Leave it! We need to go back. The scouts lost The Huntress. We need to go back to the lodge,” her mother called to her. Keena shook her head once as she leaned over the pale man on the ground in front of her. He looked so young. His eyes were clenched closed, his hands over a large bite on his leg. She pushed his hands aside and assessed the damage. It wasn’t deep but it was a large gash.
She ripped a piece of his cloak and tied it tightly around his thigh making an improvised tourniquet. “You’ll be okay,” she said to him. His eyes were wide with fear.
“It’s over now. I can take you to someone that can help,” she said softly. He shook his head violently, his mouth working but no words came out. “I can’t leave you here, you’ll die,” she said, annoyed by his stubbornness.
“We will take him,” a deep voice drawled from in front of her. She stood to get a better look at the man in front of her. He was tall with dark hair. He was wearing a normal winter coat, not dressed as the rest of the Red Hoods that fought but he still had the scent of a hunter. She nodded her head once.
“Thank you for your assistance in not killing the boy,” he said as two others rushed forward and hauled the man to his feet.
“It is uncivilized to kill someone so young, especially when he is already suffering,” she replied regally and pulled herself up to her full height. The man’s eyes brushed over her naked body once.
“You should get home yourself. It is getting colder out. Tell the alpha we would like to speak with her tomorrow. There are…changes that are being made to the Red Hoods,” he replied and walked away, disappearing into the swirling flakes.