Salves

JournalWord: Dampening the stink of stomach acid.

***

The scent hits her nose, and suddenly she can smell everything.

The thick, cloying salve that feels like it's gathering at the back of her mouth, the sourness of the binding agent she just applied to the wounds, and the heavy smell of raw meat. Human meat.

Very professionally, she sits back on her heels, wiping her hands on a length of bandage, swiveling away from her patient in a precise half-circle, and vomits.

He is at her side in an instant, slipping his hands around her shoulders to steady her so the wracking coughs don't knock her over. "Hey, are you okay?"

"It's nothing," she says, and sips a mouthful of the water he offers to rinse her teeth.

He kicks loose dirt over the incriminating spot with his foot after he turns her face into his shoulder so she can compose herself. He kicks more dirt on the spot, dampening the stink of stomach acid. "Are you sure?"

She lifts her head and pushes away from him, and he lets her go when she spares him a small smile. "Uh-huh. Just, you know," she trails off, turning back to her patient and picking up where she left off in wrapping a heavily burned arm, freshly skinned, in bandages.

His eyes soften and his voice whispers with a gentle tease. "Bothersome. It's not even morning." 

Her back relaxes at his tease and he deems her fine for now. He continues his patrol of the open medical tent, regarding the harsh, hot, winds threatening to topple the tarps and poles into the scorching sands.

***

Something small to pass the time. This is a gentle story snippet of hard times.

I seem to have a thing for writing about those tied to the medical sciences, hahaha. How interesting. Learning something new about myself everyday :)

~mera
p.s. I have a poll going on right now, just my curiosity of whether anyone is reading :) Thank you for reading and please take the time to comment. >.< (I really appreciate it!)