A Hound in the Woods

Copper and Steel

We are made of all those who have built and broken us.

Sickness had once again gripped the settlement. This time was much more serious than the last. Fevers and stomach problems ran rampant through the tents. The settlers were desperate for treatment. Angharad was stumped for a moment. Nothing in her stores of medicines and herbs seemed to be working. She had to find some way to clean the stomach of those who were suffering.

Angharad toiled at her counter and at the table, reading books and putting together new concoctions. Finally she found an entry in one of her fathers Maester's books.

"To aide the digestive systems of ailing folks, particularly those suffering from vomiting and dysentery of the bowels, first take the charred coal of burned wood and crush into a fine powder. Then boil one mug of water in a copper pot. It is essential that the pot be copper, to infuse the water with the healing powers of the precious metal. To the boiling water, add two large spoonful's of the crushed charcoal. To the black water, add mulled valerian, wormwood, and allheal.

Those suffering should drink the mixture twice a day for a minimum of three days."

"That's it!" She shouted from the table. Sandor rushed to the doorway with concern on his face.

"What is it? Are you all right?"

Angharad was fishing charcoal out of the hearth to grind for the medicines. "I think all will be well now that I have a direction for a medicine," she said satisfied. Her satisfaction quickly turned to disappointment though, she had gotten so excited about finding a recipe, that she failed to realize that she didn't have any copper cookware. The copper cookware was essential to the remedy, its caustic properties were sure to destroy the harmful sickness.

"No, no, I need to go to the town on the Bay of Crabs." Angharad's brow knit together. "I need a copper pot. It has to be copper," she started to gather a bag of dried foods to take on her journey to the Bay of Crabs.

"Where do you think you are going?" Sandor approached Angharad and took by the arm. She put down the bag and looked up to him.

"The Bay of Crabs," Angharad said frustrated. Was he not listening to her? People were sick and and it was only a matter of time before someone died if she didn't help them.

Sandor picked up the bag at Angharad's feet and slung it over his shoulder. "You are going to stay here, and you are going to finish making what you can for your remedies. I will go." Sandor knew that the roads would be growing more and more treacherous as winter approached. People would be growing more hungry and more desperate. Hungry, desperate people do wretched things, he had seen that first hand in Kings Landing when the royal party was caught in a mob riot. They had narrowly escaped with their lives that day. He was not about to put his sweet wife in harms way if he could help it.

"Are you sure? I can do it, I'm tough."

She was strong and independent, but at the same time, she was so naive and innocent to the wider, crueler world. Sandor had seen the uglier side of life, the depravity and the corruption. "I know you are."

"I can take care of myself," she jested. Sandor sometimes forgot that she was on her own for a very long time before he landed on her table.

"You have," he said. "You still do, and you always will. I've just joined in too. Now we take care of each other." His eyes scanned her facial features. "Besides, if I go, you can stay and finish making your remedies. If you go, I cannot do that." The corner of Angharad's mouth turned up in a half smile. He was right.

Angharad went to the corner of the rug and flipped it back. A flat stone had been fit into the ground. She lifted the stone out of the ground and reached into the space below it. She brought out a leather satchel, it was heavy and it jingled with coins. She had stored the excess of silver coins from their previous trip. "I would prefer a big pot," she said handing Sandor the purse. "One about this big," Angharad made a ring with both of her arms.