First thing I felt once I regained consciousness was something I didn’t expect to see ever again: the Snow between my eyes and my eyelids. This time, however, it was barely visible, like a soft mist in front of my eyes.
The noisy, babbling discussion of two men hurt my already-pained head, so I opened my eyes. The weak light of a bonfire outside and a small torch over my head allowed me to make out my surroundings: It was clearly night already, and I was inside the tarp of a tent lying down. Through the poorly closed gap running to the exterior, I saw a curious greyhound dog watching inside the tent who, soon after, got up and padded away to sit down near his masters. There were two human-like shadows projecting against the fabric of the tent, the owners rambling furiously in a language I couldn’t identify.
Of course, it didn’t help that I had my head wrapped in bandages. I could only see through my left eye, but that didn’t worry me. What stole all my attention was the throbbing, nasty pain I felt coming from the right side of my head. I reached up to touch the place with my hand, but I had to drop my fingers away when I felt the jolt of pain. Not only that: my fingers now were covered in blood!
So, what did Renate think of this? Oh, she was panicking alright. Thinking about all kinds of treatments for whatever happened to her… she was right, but her attitude annoyed me.
So, what did The Coward conclude? She needed my knowledge and, at the same time, I needed to keep calm and in control. This wasn’t a happy medical office, but a life-or-death situation.
And then, suddenly, I felt horribly dizzy. Having a raving debate with my two internal voices was bad enough, but being able to half see the Snow made things even worse; yes, even more than the time Anaissa had forced me to see it.
Still, The Coward didn’t allow me to get lost in the slumber that promised peace. She centered me, anchoring my thoughts despite the pain and the constant dizziness. She would allow me to remain observant of my surroundings, without alarming those two people outside. We didn’t know anything about the situation and we were now weaker than ever. We'd need to escape, but first we needed to know if we even could.
So, Renate kept the eyes and ears open while I kept the pain under control. She didn’t understand a single word of what they said. They didn’t speak English, which, sadly for her, was the only Earth language she knew.
The Coward reminded me that I still could see the Snow. She didn’t have much use for it, but I could glean all kinds of information from the words the strangers spoke. She was asking me the impossible, but I had to try. After all, my body, my survival, my very life, was in her hands.I started slow: I watched inside the tent. A lot of what I assume was my own blood stained the ground and the sleeping bag where I laid. Two open med kits, bandages, and disinfectant… that was expected for a normal wound. Then, I felt the thread and the nail… that was a bad omen in and of itself. But the thing that made The Coward lose control of my body, just for an instant, was the forceps.
And the several bone fragments scattered beside it.
I forced Renate back down immediately! That idiot didn’t notice they blew part of her head! Didn't she find my presence strange!? But would I be a survivalist if I couldn’t overcome something like this? I kept her silent for another moment and reminded her that whatever she felt, I felt it as well. Fear? Of course! That was what made me so strong to begin with! That’s why my heart kept pounding! That’s why I was so aware of every minute aspect of my body right now! Should I remind her of all the anatomy she made me learn? Maybe I had brain damage, but I was still alive! And I would survive!
Under the Coward’s fiery grasp, I regained composure. She was right. I was still alive; maybe not “sane” just yet, but alive. I still had most of my cognition intact and I was able to see the Snow directly. This could be useful, sooner or later. But now, I needed to focus on the words of those men outside. I still didn’t understand a word of what they were saying, so I started by dissecting the Snow out of their voices. Second by second, yelling after yelling, sob after sob, I started to find patterns in their wording. I wasn’t able to understand the words, but I was able to get the “content”, the message they were conveying to each other.
Renate informed me they were talking about me. They had accidentally shot me instead of the deer they'd been tracking for hours. I didn’t understand half of what she was explaining to me, but it sounded like the men were fairly worried about the consequences of shooting me. They had tended my wounds as best they could, but I had lost a lot of blood and, heck, they'd left my head cracked open... If not for the bandages and stitches, my brain would be exposed! Perfect: another item added to the growing list of things ailing my unfortunate body!
The Coward was rightfully upset, but now I was the one who balanced our emotions. However, we both were angry. She could be angry because of the accident; but I was furious about what they'd tried to pull off. Maybe this was because I was raised in a society of hunters, but I would never shed blood lightly! And these idiots, walking around with those stupid weapons, roamed like predators in this peaceful green paradise! They only wanted to massacre! They were humans in a world without hunger nor need! Why did they feel the urge to kill what they didn’t need?
Oh, yes, and now Renate would bring up her father again… I get it! He was a sadist after all! He left all the meat he slaughtered to rot and kept hunting day after day because his fragile little ego wouldn't allow him to stop and enjoy the little things in life, like his idiot of a daughter! He couldn’t accept that, somehow, the blood of his blood just wasn’t like him. The day we didn’t kill what he ordered us to slaughter, we'd receive the beating of our lives.
And one month later, when we had the ability to walk again, we went to the shaman, demanding to be branded as “The Coward” and escaped our tribe, never to return. Not a single word was spoken. No one had been warned and, likely, no one had missed me. My brother still recognized me as his sister, though…that was something to consider.
Sometimes I hate the constant ramblings of Renate. She could learn some focus from me…
…I had to give that to The Coward. She was irritatingly insistent, but she was also usually correct. I continued watching, hearing, and feeling the Snow in their words. The anger of their mistake; the worry for me; the hubris in their excuses; the steadfast orders given to their seven dogs; the cold they felt trembling in their words; the relief of the fire; the lack of appetite; the longing for the Colony they came from; the tension of being in a foreign environment for them; the tension of firing their weapons again against something worthy of the lead…
…Renate measured, tested, registered, and memorized every pattern of communication, just like that. She wasn’t able to speak in their language, not even explain herself with mimicry… not that she needed that. Perhaps because I'd ordered her to focus, she got something even better than a language: instead she learned how to mold Snow into raw, rudimentary “communication”. She surely was something else when she put all her focus into a single task. Still, I had a job to do: now that she was about to rise up, I needed to alleviate each slight pain in her body to the extent of my ability. Still, I had to remind her once and again that she had the right side of her head open.
Not that I really needed to remember that. The Coward was doing great at sustaining me alone, while I tried to stand silently on the sleeping bag. First things first though: my entire body was hurting like hell, so I measured every little bit of my biochemistry and concluded what kinds of analgesics I could use without the risk of falling asleep. I focused and materialized them inside my body. Seconds later, the dizziness went away, although the pain didn’t. At least I’d be able to stand on my feet. Next step, the only component of blood I could replicate through molding Snow: blood plasma. My body had taken a big hit, and the hunters’ messy surgery hadn’t helped. Soon, I was able to create water, amino acids, then basic synthetic protein; electrolytes, a necessary dose of glucose, and some oxygen. But before allowing that image to flow into my veins, I revised the stitching those two crooks had done. Lucky for me, now having analyzed more closely, the hunters seem to have known somewhat what they were doing for a change. The dressing of my wound couldn’t actually have been better, given the circumstances. Maybe one of them had some medical expertise? Regardless, I added an extra layer of microfibers to keep the wound closed, as I would soon start pumping the plasma into my veins.
And I had to suffer through all of that. I don’t know what Renate thinks she’ll do once she starts to cure people this way, but it feels really weird. I’d felt syringes before, no problem. Sometimes, others had put me in a chair for hours to cure a strange fever or whatnot, through an intravenous line. A bit strange, but nothing as aggressive as the powerful burst I felt in every blood vessel shooting throughout my entire body. It was short, but hellishly uncomfortable.
Pain remained, but now I dominated. The only issue left now was my cracked skull. But, for that I didn’t have the mastery needed to solve the problem. I could create a skull cover, but not until my wound had closed properly. My right eye wasn’t too good either, but The Coward could live with just my left for the time being. I finally felt like strength had returned to my body, but I still felt like I could eat an entire boar. So, utterly without ceremony, I got up and left the tent.
I should have been keeping tabs every muscle of my body, but even I had to smirk when we saw the faces of those idiots when Renate boldly sat down aside them at the bonfire and served herself some stew from the pot, into to a bowl that wasn’t in her hand two seconds before, eaten with a spoon that similarly wasn’t there even one second before. All this by a girl that shouldn’t be up and running yet, due to all the pain and fever she should be suffering from right now.
They spoke to me, but my hunger was more urgent than their apologies and excuses. After wolfing down three bowls and hearing them yapping at me again and again about their mistakes, my own mistakes, and all that could have been, and it wasn’t. I put my plate down on the ground and, for the first time, I looked straight in their eyes.
The first, a bearded and hardened old man, showing many signs of age and scars of all kinds, kept berating us. He was right, we were wrong; this was their place, not ours; we shouldn’t have been so stupid as to walk there… and, as any person of his age, his lecture bored even the stones to sleep. I opted to pick my teeth and keep an eye on the dogs. Little smart fellas: they felt something strange about us already.
The other was younger, and given his lighter bloodstained clothing, he was probably the one who had operated on my now-shattered skull. Contrary to his older companion, he was livid and avoided eye contact whenever he could. Hands shaking, fidgeting fingers, lip biting, tapping feet… something told me, and not just the Snow, that he was the one who had pulled the trigger on me. He clearly felt the blame weigh on his shoulders every fraction of a second I kept my eyes on him. I thought I would be angrier when I saw the culprit, but after seeing how hard it hit him, I decided to just forget about it.
I’d survived, after all. Pointing fingers, blame, and guilt… those didn’t have anything to do with me. Other people, maybe even Renate, would have needed more. Revenge, an apology, or something like that. But I don’t. My only worry after filling my belly would be finding my backpack, and if it was possible, the berries I’d worked so hard to gather. Even after emptying the pot though, I still craved more food.
Most big things in life are simple. Vengeance or mercy were two options. I always chose mercy, and this time wasn’t any different. I found my backpack behind me; I turned to the hunters, molded some Snow, and without a single word, thanked them for the food. Then I signaled the dogs to sit.
And, in military squad fashion, every dog sat down right on the spot. They didn’t move, nor did the hunters, as I walked away. Renate still had work to do.
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