Tale 2: War of the Seeker

Chapter 2

Zeke picked a cloth from the box. Just a small square of ratty fabric.

He laid the cloth over my lap and gently, very gently, he picked up my injured arm and laid it across my knees. I had to lean forward a little, but it made perfect sense when he asked me, "Have you ever been stitched before?"

I looked away from the wound. "I can't remember."

"Oh, right." He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's not everyday I meet someone as extraordinary as you."

He's playing nice.

"I feel extraordinary, alright," I mumbled sarcastically.

He laughed and pulled a glass bottle of dark red liquid from the box. He pulled the cork out and offered the bottle to me. "I suggest you take a swig or two. Or maybe three or more. It'll take the edge off of the pain."

I studied the glass bottle, trying to remember if I had ever drank wine before. Of course I couldn't remember. But I took the bottle anyway.

"Thanks."

I held the mouth of the bottle under my nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled earthy. I pressed the cool rim to my lips and dipped my head back, feeling the wine burn a little at the back of my throat. It tasted fruity.

I got a hint that I have probably tasted wine before.

I took a few more swigs as Zeke dabbed at the wound on my arm, cleaning blood away as it dribbled down my arm.

"Ready?" he asked.

I took a deep breath and held it. Then nodded.

Zeke took the wine from me and tipped a little over the gaping wound. I sucked in a breath at the sting and then the pursuing burning.

He promptly handed me the bottle back.

I had to look away when he brought out the suturing needle and thread, and clenched my jaw tight as he poised over my arm.

I looked into the distance and fought the urge to yank my arm away.

He pressed the needle to my skin.

But I guess I had a high pain tolerance. I could feel everything and it hurt like a bitch, but I could control the pain.

Eventually I turned to watch him. His eyebrows were furrowed with concentration as he pushed the needle in one side of the wound, then in the other, then pulled it tight. I cringed when I first saw it, but then peered closer, fascinated.

"You really are strange," he said.

"I thought I was extraordinary."

He smiled. "Do you feel extraordinary now?"

I watched my arm, steadfast as Zeke pulled another suture tight. "I'm getting there... Or maybe I'm just drunk."

His smile grew wider. He finished the last suture and broke off the thread. "How's your leg doing?"

He had me lay on my side, seeing as the wound was located on the side of my leg. Together, we peered over the blood as he pulled the fabric away.

"It looks just like the one on your arm," he said. "Straight. Deep. Except it didn't cut right to the bone."

He took the wine from me and doused my thigh in it. Then he handed the bottle back, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"What?" I asked.

"You might probably have to take off your pants."

I looked down at the bloody, mangled fabric around the wound. It was obvious that there was no way Zeke was stitching anything up with all of that going on.