Fight of the Nightingale

Chapter One: The Wounded Doctor

"Henri, could you pass me the antiseptic?"

The flaxen haired doctor gave a small nod, reaching into the crate of supplies he had been manning. He had seen the bottle in here only moments before, now he just had to find it. He moved aside several carefully labeled bottles dedicated to curing colds and illness, at last finding the blue glass bottle. He stood from his spot, wincing at the tight feeling in his bad leg. He dusted off his brown suit pants and walked over to his chocolate haired colleague, nursing a slight limp. He slowed as he approached the doctor and patient, a sniffling little girl dressed in a dirty ragged brown dress. Her eyes were watering, and she cradled her arm, which showed a series of nasty cuts. Henri gave the girl a kind smile, offering the bottle to his fellow doctor.

"Here you are Quincy." He said.

The second doctor took the bottle with a nod of thanks, his green eyes gentle as he began to pour a small amount onto a clean cloth. He looked up at the girl.

"I'm going to put some of this on your scrapes, what is your name young lady?"

The little girl sniffed, shuffling her feet a bit nervously.

"M-m-Maria." She hiccupped, her watery brown eyes darting to Henri, then back to Quincy.

The blue suited doctor gave her a smile, taking her arm gently and raising the cloth.

"Well, Miss Maria, I'm going to clean your cuts there so you will heal properly. Is that alright with you?"

The little girl gave a slight nod, moving her hand so Quincy could get a better look at the wounds. Henri could see the wound had become dirty and risked infection if not treated. He thanked God that they had chosen today to have their street clinic, and that the weather had been crisp and sunny. Quincy clucked his tongue, shaking his head as he gently cleaned the dirt and grime from the otherwise fresh injury. Henri knelt beside the girl, wincing once more as his leg protested. He gave her another timid smile, trying to portray as much kindness as he could in his powder blue eyes.

"How did you get hurt Miss Maria?" He asked softly.

The little girl took a shuddering breath, not taking her eyes off of the work being done on her arm.

"Imma chimneysweep sa." She replied. "I wasn't a watchin' me steps close enough. Slipped and got me arm banged up right good I did."

Henri gave the little girl a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his heart clenching. Chimneysweeps were most commonly orphans, cleaning out ashes and dirt for only mere pennies. The doctor sighed.

I wish my country could do more than leave these poor children to starve. He thought sadly.

Quincy finished cleaning the cuts, using a separate cloth to clean his hands.

"Alright Miss Maria, my friend here is going to wrap your arm up tight so it will stay clean. Try not to get it too dirty, and be a good girl."

The young chimneysweep nodded, a grin stretching over her face.

"Ifn ya ever need a good sweepin', ida be 'appy to clean fer ya... 'alf price too!"

Quincy gave the girl a smile.

"I'll keep that in mind, my chimney has been looking a bit dirty these days. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some other patients to care for."