*THUNK*THUNK*THUNK*
Sister Tulla nearly jumped out of her seat at the sound of the large brass knocker banging against the heavy oak doors of the chapel. She set her book aside and glanced at the clock, nearly one in the morning. Had she been hearing things?
*THUNK* ...*thunk*...
Nope. Guess not.
She heaved herself out of her armchair and shuffled quickly out of the study, making her way past the aisles towards the front doorway of their humble church.
"Oh, what poor drunken soul has dragged their way here in need of council at such an hour," Tulla grumbled to herself, as she pulled the doors open with a loud creak, "Oliver Crown, whatever you're up to, mind my word-!"
She stopped, mid-scolding, startled.
"My word," she whispered.
"Sister! Sister!" Tulla called, dragging a limp and freezing body into the study, "Sister Irena!" She banged loudly on the door to their shared bedroom.
"VAT?!" Sister Irena burst through the door, equal parts annoyed and panicked.
"Irena," Tulla gasped, "Help me!"
"Oh! Oh dear! Yes! Yes, sister," Irena, easily 45 centimeters taller than her plump counterpart, and all muscle, grabbed the unconscious girl and carried her to Tulla's empty bed.
After placing her carefully on the squeaky old mattress, the two took a moment to take in the sight. Before them was a skinny young woman, still a teenager perhaps, with dark olive skin that was splattered with even darker freckles. Her half-frozen clothes were caked in sea-salt powder. A thick tangle of soggy, red curls wrapped around her face and neck, riddled with seaweed.
"Who...? Where did she come from? Who IS this?" Sister Irena exclaimed, finally breaking the silence.
Her voice seemed to snap Tulla out of a trance.
"Never mind that! Her clothes are freezing, and her skin is on fire! We must attend to her!"
"Hm," Irena nodded curtly, "Right then. Get her out of these clothes, and quickly. I'll get my medical bag and draw some water."
Irena whisked out of the bedroom as Tulla began to furiously strip the clothes of their guest, throwing each piece of clothing onto the radiator in the corner where it landed with a hiss. Irena returned just as Tulla was neatly tucking a second sheet around the stranger.
Tulla made way for Sister Irena, who had been a millitary nurse once, half a world away and a lifetime ago. Tulla paced the tiny room as Irena placed several cold patches on her patient's head, neck and chest. Blood had begun to soak through the white sheets at the girl's hands and feet.
"Pass me a towel please sister."
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you," Irena said as she took the towel and began to tightly wrap up Sabre's hair, "A foreigner, it looks like. Where do you think she came from?"
"Ohhh, goodness knows, goodness knows!" Tulla fretted, "Will she be okay? Should we make ready to call the clinic? To go to the hospital?"
"Be still," Irena scolded, taking the girl's temperature, and listening carefully to her chest, "Her fever is high. Her breathing is rattled... but steady. We should wait 'till morning."
A calm Sister Irena looked up from her patient to see a wide-eyed Sister Tulla, biting her fingernails. She sighed and placed a hand on Tulla's shoulder, "She's not going to die. It will be okay."
Irena wasn't entirely sure of that assessment, but she knew well that it was imperative to remain calm in crisis situations. Tulla's nervousness was not completely unfounded, but it would do nothing to help.
"Yes," Tulla said, nodding, "Yes, of course. Sorry."
"Think nothing of it," Irena told her, turning back to her patient to continue her examination.
"She knocked! At- at the door. Nobody here knocks anymore y'know," Tulla chattered, "Given the hour, I had it in my head that it must be Olly, trying to pull one over on me again."
"That rascal," Irena muttered, smirking, as she began to slowly pour peroxide over Sabre's hands, washing away crusted blood and sand to reveal raw flesh and the whites of one of her bones. Sabre groaned. Tulla gasped and jumped.
"Oh dear!" she said covering her mouth slightly, "Oh dear, oh dear! Such a deep wound! I was in such a rush to get her clothes off-!"
Eyelids flickered for an instant and were still again. Irena assessed her hands.
Self-inflicted? she mused, as she popped a dislocated thumb back into place with a tiny crack. She heard Tulla successfully stifle a sudden urge to vomit behind her. Her patient remained still.
Well... If that didn't stir her, nothing will.
"I don't think she'll be waking up any time soon," Irena announced, "She's been in the water I see. Could she be from that wreck you think?"
"The one last week?" Tulla replied, "No... at least, I don't think so. The latest I heard was that they're only looking for two more men. And with Al around y’know-"
"Yes," sister Irena interrupted, making a cross over her chest and shoulders, "You're right, God rest their souls. But if not that, then...who? What could this stranger be doing here? Ill and injured, and at our door in the middle of the night? Given the season... I could not expect her to be a tourist."
What are you doing here little bird? Irena thought, as she unfolded the center of the towel she had wrapped around her head. She parted the matted hair to reveal a deep wound.
Did someone hurt you? she asked herself as she motioned for Sister Tulla to bring her the suture kit. She glanced back down at the young lady's hands.
Or...did you hurt someone...?
"Oh!" Tulla swept the clothes off the radiator and grabbed a small messenger bag and some jewelry out of the pile.
"Really sister? Going through someone's belongings and valuables?" Irena teased, carefully threading a curved needle.
"Oh, hush you! It will tell us who she is!"
"She can tell us who she is when she wakes up," Irena tut-tutted, as she jabbed the needle through her patient's leather-thick scalp and brought one side of the split skin to meet there other. She repeated the motion. Tulla gagged once more.
"Fine! ...fine," Tulla set the bag down on the nightstand, taking the opporunity to avert her eyes from the gore, "You're right... Going through someone else's belongings... It would leave a sour taste in my mouth too."
Tulla set two tarnished silver rings next to the bag, while Irena began to carefully wrap up the girl's hands. After a moment Irena pulled up the sheet to reveal bruised and blistered feet. She began to treat those as well.
Sister Tulla was setting down bracelet, but then paused, examining more carefully the curious leather cuff she had taken off the girl's upper arm. About six or seven centimeters wide, there was a clasp on one side that made it look like a tiny belt. The smooth side faced upward and was embossed on both sides with a Celtic knot pattern. Down the middle, inlaid, was a thick silver chain woven and knotted so elaborately that it must have been at least a meter long should anyone lay it out. Unlike the rings, the silver did not seem to be tarnished at all.
"Strange bracelet," she mumbled to herself.
Sister Irena glanced up, "Hm? Well...rather bulky I suppose."
Tulla flipped it over as she set it down and noticed there were words branded on the inside. She squinted in the lamp light and read them out-loud, "MacGregor Despite Them...?"
Sister Irena looked up slowly.
Strange Indeed.
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