The Tent

Heart racing, and the dull ache now pulsating through my shoulder, the tent begins to sway; as the pain and nausea consume me. I feel myself being ushered further inside, large, warm hands grasping my waist as I'm placed upon some sort of soft structure, a bed, perhaps? I'm not sure anymore. The room continues to move around me, as I feel my consciousness ebb and flow, the figures and sounds in the tent alternating between haziness and clarity.

Small, dry, wrinkled fingers placed around my face pull me back into reality and I slowly glance upwards to their owner. A pair of gentle eyes regard me intently, their owner appears older, ancient, in fact. His olivey skin dappled by liver spots and wrinkled like crepe paper, he exudes kindness and wisdom as he stands silently above me. His touch is calming, and his presence the first thing to truly soothe my weary mind and body since I arrived in this strange place, finally making me feel at ease. His gaze wanders to my shoulder, my arm still clutched to my chest in a feeble attempt to dull the throbbing. He closes his eyes briefly, a look of pensive concentration fleetingly etched upon his features before opening them once more and turning towards the warlord situated to his left.

I'd been so relaxed for that brief moment I'd almost forgotten he was there, or even where I was. My awareness flows back and I follow the elderly man's gaze, taking the opportunity to cast my eyes around the tent. Several lamps hung from posts used to support the tent's weight, their light soft and yellowy, casting light upon a framework housing several old dusty books, their volumes looked ancient and well thumbed, stacked together to my right. glass bottles and jars of differing sizes and shapes filled the space, their labels also appearing yellowed and well worn. Dried herbs and plants hung from various posts all around, their brittle green stems oozing a strong scent that permeates the air, a heady combination of mint and clary sage filling my nostrils.

"May I look at it?" The soothing tones of the elderly man, a doctor; of some sort, I'd decided. He gestures to my shoulder, I reluctantly nod as he scans my shoulder and places his hands upon it.

I gasp, as hot agonising pain seeps through me, he retracts his hand and looks to Ayris.

"I will need to inspect it properly" he speaks once more. "I cannot diagnose the problem without examining the shoulder"

I nod, my hand still clasping my arm.

The healer steps away to retrieve something and Ayris continues to observe me keenly, his eye scans briefly to what the healer has in his hand as he returns to me. A glint of metal catches the light and my heart begins to pound. He offers his palm to me, to soothe the thoughts racing through me.

"Scissors" he states "to cut your blouse" I realised he needed to gain access to my shoulder, but had no way of removing my shirt whilst I was unable to move my arm, and so I nodded, granting him permission to cut it from me.

In my peripheral vision the commander shifts from foot to foot, strong arms folded tightly about his chest; as the healer begins to gently snip away the soft cotton from my body. The healer's movements are deft and gentle, as he swiftly slices, exposing the skin beneath as my top falls to the floor. He begins to study my shoulder, shifting from my front, to the side and then behind to gaze it from all angles, never placing a hand upon me, for fear of causing me pain. I try to stay still on the small camp bed whilst he assesses me, the thought that I'm sat in nothing but jeans and a sports bra whilst two strange men stare me, becomes more acute, the longer times passes, but the thought is soon replaced by the pain and nausea.

"It will need to be replaced back into the socket" he states, his assessment now complete. Ayris raises an eyebrow and nods, arms remain folded in front of him, his expression remains impassive. "I will get Oliver to assist me"

"No need, I will stay" A look of surprise flashes over the healer's face, before he nods and explains to the commander what he must do. Ayris nods and heads to the back of the tent before sitting beside me, his enormous frame bowing the camp bed, making it creak beneath his weight.

"Bite down" Ayris commands, as he lifts a small length of wood wrapped in cloth to my mouth "This will hurt". I take it into my mouth with hesitation and close my eyes in anticipation of whats to come. I feel him place his palm on my sternum, and another in the middle of my back, holding me steady and lifting me straight, as the healer takes my sore arm from my chest and raises it to his shoulder, the pain intensifying and earning a small groan from me, as he begins to lift it higher. As he lifts and rotates my arm, trying to find its path back into the socket, the pain becomes unbearable, my teeth clench furiously against the cloth as the pain sears through my shoulder as I groan and cry out in agony. My eyes scrunched tightly, all I can focus on is pain, hot, searing, aching, throbbing pain, my arm feeling as thought it is going to be pulled clean away from me, as the healer continues to manipulate it.

I cry out in agony as the manipulation becomes more forceful, the healer gripping my arm and twisting it as he finally replaces it back in the socket, the pain becoming dull now, as he gently lays me down on the bed, before everything turns to black.