Sickness
W-where am I, what is this?
Let me go!
Both arms strained and pulled with all the strength she could muster to no avail. Bound to the cot by leather straps at either wrist, Tide’s body arched and turned, twisting and pulling to gain grounds to find freedom. Shrieks and screams echoing through the air could be heard by all throughout the caravan in their dreary, forlorn trudge through the snow. Marcus was there, sitting within the covered sled watching over her. When he came into sight her wide eyes stared to him in hope, deep panicked breaths continuing to gasp for air.
Marcus, Marcus please, help me!
She tried speaking, tried to urge him for aid but her blue lips never moved to make a sound only continuing to pant. Faster her heart beat and with it her attention jumped. Head twisting, eyes darting she could not linger for more than a second on any single focal point in the sled before shrieking again, slamming her body up and down to try and free herself. The vain attempt only lasted a few short seconds before Tide was unconscious once again.
-
Marcus’ eyes had just blinked awake at the sound of Juliana’s pained cries. This was the fourth time she’d done this tonight alone. Why didn’t she say anything, why didn’t they notice? These thoughts continued playing on repeat in the mute’s mind. With her body slouching then going limp again Marcus could tell she was out. A black bandage marked with a cursive ‘H’ pat against her clammy skin, a dull expression and a look of concern marred his reflection when Marcus riffled through the assembly of jingling vials in the medical sled. One cannonball did this, doomed them. To think that a single ball of iron, no heavier than ten pounds could topple everything they planned for brought a rage in the quiet man. Throwing empty vials repeatedly toward the canvas covering that lined the exit to the sled he searched.
There has to be more, there has to be enough. There were already conversations going through the ranks of how to deal with the problem. Mercy they called it, bah! It would prevent more outbreak, it would be less painful, clean, quick. All of this talk was why Greghon ordered him to stay here. No priests, shamans not even a damned medic among the lot of them. Rows of vials were passed through now, entire trays being thrown at the wall with utter disregard until a tube of red viscous liquid was found. With utmost delicacy Marcus removed his glove, freezing fingers gently pulling it up so that he could remove the cork. Cradling a hand beneath her head, Marcus propped Juliana up to sip generously at the glass before laying her to rest again, watching her shiver and shake like a leaf. When will supplies arrive? Are they coming? How much longer does she have? These thoughts ran through his mind as Marcus took his seat again; hands shaking while still remaining free of his gloves. As his rosary found it’s way to his hand again as it often did in moments of desperation, Marcus found himself thumbing over each bead while his torso rocked in contemplation.