When Blood Runs Yellow

[Chamaeleon]

Spring 90th, 512 AV, Late Afternoon Base Camp was nearly calm this day, warm even, with a hint of Summer on the breeze. People were speaking softly to one another, no one seemed overly troubled by anything. It was a perfect setting to learn something, anything even, about medicine, which was a skill Chamaeleon wished to learn as much of as possible. She felt she would need it when they all returned to Sunberth, if all of them even did. She mulled over her goals for the rest of the day as she assisted Jorg and Lixue in their tending to the bodies. At her level in the skill required to tend to wounds, Chamaeleon couldn't do much more than bandage, clean, and apply what medicine her betters passed to her to use. The Ethaefal was doing this now, slowly unwrapping the fouled bandages that covered the mauled arm of a fevered man. A stench of decay greeted her nose, and Chamaeleon blanched at the sight of the limb beneath the cloth. It was inflamed, engorged by puss and horrible infection. The claws of some terrible beast that had taken their revenge out on the man had brought into his limb something Chamaeleon didn't know he could fight off, but she had to help him as much as she could, didn't she? The water in the bowl beside her arm was disturbed as Chamaeleon reached for it and brought it to rest before her, dipping a rag in it and slowly, very delicately, dabbling the caked blood from his arm where it had oozed beneath the bandages. She tried not to disturb the man too much. Let him dream in his delirious sleep. She couldn't help him with that. As Chamaeleon finished cleaning the blood from his limb, she swallowed and her mouth turned down, just slightly. She never liked tending to this man specifically, because when she had to wrap his arm he usually woke. With a turn of her heel, the Ethaefal spirited away, bringing with her the bowl and the spoiled bandages. The bandages she deposited in a bin, to be cleaned or disposed of, and the water she dumped outside before returning the bowl to the same place the bin of used bandages sat. She selected a fresh roll that had been hung out to dry after a recent cleaning and returned th her patient, tenderly moving his arm further from his body. He hissed in discomfort, but she forced herself not to flinch back. She had to grow up. Unconscious men couldn't get angry. Humming a light tune under her breath, Chamaeleon began to roll the bandage along the thick arm of the man, starting from his wrist and heading towards his shoulder. She took the liberty of avoiding touching his skin, in case that woke him quicker, even though it meant she couldnt use whatever odd talent she'd been born with that made her decide medicine was the way to go. Chamaeleon was at his elbow a few chimes after starting, still humming her merry little tune as she went along, focused so much on tending to the man that she didn't immediately notice the giant Jamoura hunched over her shoulder until she felt his breath on the top of her head. "I feel this man will need his arm cut off," the Jamoura said in his deep voice. Jorg was a creature of questionable mental capacity, so when he said this, Chamaeleon thought he wasn't actually serious. A few ticks passed, and suddenly it dawned on her just what the old monkey had said. "You mean, cut it off?" She said sharply, perhaps too sharply in her surprise. The man began to stir in response and Chamaeleon felt a stir of annoyance. "Cutting off his arm will kill him!" "Some things must be done, and this is one of them," Jorg said somberly. Chamaeleon turned to shoot him a disbelieving stare, but the big, dark eyes of the Jamoura didn't show dishonesty or a cruel joke. They were serious, and sadly so. "When you are done here, come see me outside," he said slowly, before padding off to check up on Lixue and Kalila. Chamaeleon looked back to the man to see him peering out at her from between heavy eyelids. The way his eyes roamed, he seemed somewhat confused, but Chamaeleon managed to pull out a smile for his sake. "Just rest," she said softly, reaching forward to pat his brow as comfortingly as she knew how. He nodded and his eyes dropped shut, and she continued her work, silent now and deep in thought.