As I was running out of excuses to postpone her treatment I look back to Kira and sigh, cleaning my hands, realizing that I only had half a roll of bandages and some surgical gloves.

With a scowl I think that, as always, I had to be running low on some kind of supply, in a vicious cycle that only changed the artifact of worry at the moment; sometimes food, sometimes clothes, shelter even, and now medical supplies, and not considering the surgical gloves all the rest would be almost impossible to find and very expensive to buy.

I may be able to use the clothes tossed around at the back in the garbage bin the wolf made, but that would be hardly hygienic to treat a wound, even more with only some soap and alcohol to clean the dusty cloth.

But first things first, I went once more to Kira’s side, this time uncovering her body and trying to find the end of the bandage; I’m definitely not an expert, not even an amateur at that, in medical treatment, all the fluids and blood and organs making me sick enough that a mere glimpse, or mention even, would make me look away, so I could not say that my movements were smooth and precise, far from it, I hesitated far too many times and stared at her fur thinking what should I do first in this kind of situation.

With persistence I manage to undo the first bloody bandage, the one on her front leg, the scratch marks appearing to be deep but not many.

Hurtful, yes, but not fatal, and hopefully with a few weeks it will heal nicely, leaving a scar behind at most; well, at least that’s what I hoped for.

Concentrating that much made me scowl so strongly that my forehead appeared to have small hills over my pale skin as I bite my lower lip without realizing it, all my attention on the task at hand.

So… What should I do now? I should clean the wound, but only water would do it any good?

I take out my worn-out surviving book, being careful not to have the pages falling down and out of sequel as I look for how to treat wounds in the index, turning pages and reading words quickly until I spot what I need.

“Stop the bleeding, check, put pressure until it stops the blood flow ok…change at least once a day, clean with running water… make sure there is no debris on the wound that can be pushed inside further…” I start mumbling as I check what must be done with her wound, satisfied that most things were only basic cleaning to avoid infection and already done to some extent.

Leaving the book to the side upside down and open on the page I start the procedure, taking the clean water that I boiled beforehand and carefully changing it to another recipient to keep any rock and soil behind, and after some time I test the water to sense that it was still slightly warm, in a good temperature to start cleaning her up.

With the once almost transparent water coming out only slightly red I celebrated in silence as I take the new bandage to wrap around her limb again, putting some pads for good measure on top of the wound and giving the final knot, cutting the rest with a knife.

I breathe a heavy sigh, wanting to clean my sweaty forehead but not wanting to have contact with my gloves.

One down, one more to go.

As I was changing positions I can feel the wolf’s gaze following my every move, bothering me enough to go and give him a lesson about manners, but the need to focus on the task at hand was stronger so I brush that thought aside; after all, I could always do it later.

And for some reason I thought that I would not lack opportunities nor reasons to do so…

I moved to the side and knee beside her, wanting to clean my hands with alcohol but knowing that I could not do that yet since I needed to touch her wounds.

I unconsciously start rubbing my hands together, trying to find some relief for that aching need. I try not to focus on it but the other option was as bad; once I take off the bandages on her back I soon realize that that was a terrible wound, it looked like a big chunk of meat from her skin had being bitten off as well as some scratch marks on the side, making it a really big deep wound.

And one thing for sure; it needed stitches.

There was nothing I could do with the lack of meat but the scratches went deep and need to be closed, probably done when the creature was biting her, gripping at her so she wouldn't escape.

I take a deep breath, trying to not let wild thoughts come as to what I needed to do, only focusing on how to do it; first I need some stitches, then a way of cleaning them up, a needle and some iron guts.

I think, of all of these, the last one was the most difficult one, ugh.

I saw once somewhere that you can use fat from raw meat to sterilize, but I don’t even remember where I saw it nor how to do it; or if it was even legit; so I could not come with ways beyond water to clean the stitches.

That, amounting to the lack of resources, was starting to give me a headache. I clean the wound and put some pads over it so nothing would enter the wound and dirty it, while I went in search for something to use as stitches.

Going quickly over any bags I could find I soon realize that it would be a very long search; literally a needle in a pile of bags.

That makes me clench my hands into fists, angry with many things.

With this fucking apocalypse,

The fucking zombies.

The campers, the werewolves, everything, all of that that had led us into this situation, from the injustice and pain that we unnecessarily suffered.

Damn it.

I need those stitches.

Kira needs it.

And yet… wishful thinking is nothing more than that; a mere wish, immaterial, unrealistic, and simply hopeful, nor something concrete, not something that would make something actual and real.

Whishing only achieves nothing.

And, after searching and searching stubbornly and yet not finding it, that reality hit me in the face, of how wanting something really bad doesn’t make it real.

I know, stupid, childish of me to believe in it for even a mere second, but what should I do, simply give up?

Not a chance.

But right now, I stared at my only option with a frown on my face; for the only thing I could find was… a tape.

The blue had faded a little on the outside part, but beyond that seemed to be in really good shape; and I could not leave that wound open and expose, that would be a deadly state to leave her in.

So I stand, turn and walk back to the main warm part of the cave, knowing that it would not be pleasant to treat her with these, but necessary either way.

I knell beside her.

“Hey girl, how are you doing uhm?” I pat her fur as I take some barely rusted scissors out of my bag, putting the tape on the side as I go over her wound again and start cutting the fur around the wound, trying my best not to touch it.

Satisfied when I have a round smooth area clean up I cut long strips of blue tape, leaving then separated to the side as my eyes go once more back to the wound.

I swallow dry, and reach out with shaking hands.

Only to be shoved to the side.

“Oi! What the fuck?!”

I’m haft-sitting half-laying on the side as I look up only to see the wolf treating her in my place, his pawed clawed black hands oddly caring as he takes the tape with his claw and goes to slowly close the wound together so the skin would stay closed for him to put the straps over, hardly having any reaction from Kira.

“I-I can do that.”

He doesn’t stop moving, his hands agile and precise, his only reaction being a quick glance to my side and what seemed to be a raised eyebrow.

I let him work in silence, not satisfied with letting him do the job but not eager to take his place in the slightest, watching as he worked and finish with a new pad and bandages.

And then we stay in an awkward silence, his body oddly close to mine as he stayed sitting beside Kira, his intelligent brown eyes staring at me, but not as wild nor angry as before.

“T-thanks.” I manage to say, looking away and clenching my fingers, knowing far too well that mine… condition had once more proven to be a burden.

He doesn't puff and sneer at me this time, he only looks to the makeshift bed that I used before and back at me, motioning that I should rest.

I could not agree more.

So I stand, grab my own things and put my camping mattress and roll it over the fur, as always the same part turned upwards as I went to the cycle of taking my shoes and gloves off, grabbing a bottle of alcohol and swishing a mountain of the transparent substance on my palm and brushing it fervently until my skin was red and the small cuts from previous times wanted to burst open.

For a while I just sat there, breathing heavily, holding the wish to break down and cry and scream deep inside me and hoping that the wolf would not bother me right now.

There was just so much someone could take.

With a heavy heart I lay down, and beyond my crises and expectation the exhaustion drags me down to a deep dreamless sleep.

****

https://www.wikihow.com/Clean-a-Wound-Without-Proper-Supplies