Two Worlds (closed for DeathsKnight)

I only nodded at her suggestions with what to do with the meat, she had a good handle of what to do with the meat and there wasn't much else to add to her suggestions, "Usually I just saw the bones into smaller chunks for soup, but you can cook it for Bertha, there's some maize meal so you can even make her some porridge with the bones." I paused at the fact that she thought me to be rich, of course judging from what she told me that they had to do to survive I could understand that sentiment. Then she returned to the powder milk, I paused once more.

"They had a huge tray which held milk, a huge drum turned just above the tray, it's surface dipping into the milk. They heated the drum with electricity and the residue which stuck to the heated drum got scraped off. Or at least that is what I read, I also read that they used nozzles to spray milk into a heated environment, allowing the moisture to evaporate. Usually there were around one hundred cows milked a day if not more. They used to talk of thousands of litres of milk."

I frowned, seems like I remembered more than I thought, I shrugged and contined to cut off the meat and placed the bones aside, "A few hours' trek from here there is a small corn field, I usually get my corn there to make the maize meal."
 
I nodded, that made sense, if you sprayed the milk in tine droplets into a very hot very big kettle like thing, the liquid would evaporate and rise, and the solid substances would float down. And no-one would have stir in a pot with boiling milk for hours and hours.

Still not a technic we could use. A while we worked in silence.

"Parker's had over two hundred cows, before the Blast. They sent all their milk to a factory. Where probably they made it into powder as well as into yoghurt and such. Maize is good. We grow maize too. I love polenta. Herta will eat anything you put in front of her. She is a good dog. A good guard dog and a good help on a hunt. We don't need to cook the bones for her, she'll gnaw all the little bits of meat off of them. I could crack some for her, so that she can get to the marrow a bit easier."

I ogled the bones on Chris' table.

"Two or three would be enough for Herta for several days. She'll eat our leftovers too. Do saw the others in chucks for soup. Soup is nice."

Mechanically my hands moved the knives, put meat in bowls, took the next piece.

"Where are the small intestines? I need to wash them before I can make sausages with this," I pointed the big knife to a bowl where I had put all the small bits. "But you have an ice hole, so I could do it tomorrow as well I think."

I felt hot. I opened a few buttons on my coverall.

"Chris, can I drink water from the faucets in here?"
 
"The small intestines I cleaned and they are in the cooler, I placed them in salt water, as soon as the meat have been minced we can make sausage." She had been talking, I had been listening, but at her question about the water I looked up. Sure I have seen her naked, I have seen her in practically no clothing, but there was just something different about the few buttons undone on the coveralls. "There is one green faucet over there at the sink." I pointed with the knife, then cut of the last bit of meat.

Placing the meat down, I walked over to the saw, flicked on the wall switch and pulled it away from the wall. The wheels helped it to roll easily on the tiled floor, I locked the wheels, got a large plastic basin, placed it next to the saw and switched it on. The powerful motor ran with a soft hum as I fetched the backbone and started to saw it up into pieces, dumping the pieces into the basin. Half under my breath I started to whistle the Hymn of the Republic, it was a marching song and it always helped me to focus on what I was doing at that moment. Usually I hummed it, but now it was a whistle, soft but audible to me.
 
My eyes followed the line of Chris' knife and I hurried over to the faucet. In big gulps I drank the water out off the hollow of my hand, wondering about the abundance of drinkable water flowing out off the faucet.

It still didn't taste fresh though. It was bland. The longer the water ran, the cooler it got and after some more gulps I rubbed my wet and cool hand over my cheeks and my throat.

He had cleaned the intestines and put them in salt water. How much salt did he have? I shook my head while getting back to my table.

A few last pieces of meat were waiting to be cut up, and refreshed I got on with it. I expected Chris to get a hatchet when he put the last meat on my table, but he went to another wall and pulled a small table with an upright standing, round, spiky blade almost completely covered by a bend metal band, from it. He walked away after he had put it beside the table which now had only the bones on it, and I studied it.

The blade looked like a saw. But it was round, so it didn't look at all like a saw at the same time. There was no handle to pull it over something on it. I wondered if you had to move the bones against it, at the small piece it wasn't covered by the 'hood'. There wasn't much space there to move a bone over it. You could only make the tiniest sawing motions there. It would take ages to cut a bone open. Putting a chisel on it, and hammer it in, like we did, would be much easier.

Chris flicked a switch on the thing and the blade slowly started to wheel around, getting faster until I couldn't see the spikes on it anymore. It hummed, it turned and it looked like a solid blade! Chris whistled a tune as he held the spine against it and the blade cut through it like it was made out off butter! My chin dropped to my chest once more and I watched him cut the bone in small pieces open mouthed. The only thing he had to do was press it against the blade, his hands holding the bone firmly in front of it and when the bone snapped softly apart his hands where beside the blade.

In no time the spine was cut up and Chris took a thick thigh bone. The saw cut it with the same ease it had cut the spine! The humming sound it made only got a bit deeper when it cut through the bones. I wondered if it would make the same noise when it cut one of Chris' thumbs off ... Holding my breath I watched him. He seemed to know what he was doing though, he kept his thumbs out off the reach of the saw all the time.

Finally I closed my mouth and concentrated on cutting the last meat into fine stripes.

Now the most time-consuming and boring task lay ahead of me: cut and chop up the sausage meat as fine as possible. With a sigh I spread a handful on the cutting board and took the hatchet in my hand. With quick, short moves I hacked it into pulp. I smiled when I realized I chopped the meat on the rhythm of the song Chris whistled.

The humming sound stopped, the whistling did not. With a few moves Chris took the saw apart, put the pieces in a sink and ran hot water on them.

I scooped the minced meat on the hatchet, dropped it in a clean bowl, and spread a new handful on the chopping board.

"It will take some time before I have chopped all the meat, could you drop a few pieces of bone at Herta while you get the intestines? If you don't have anything else to do first? Could you also bring a slice of the bread we had for breakfast, I really need to eat something ..."
 
I paused on my way back to the saw when she told me that she had to chop up the meat, I went on to assemble the saw again, "Tell you what, why don't you go drop off the bones, you will find the intestines in the door left to the freezer where you stored the plant this morning. You know where the bread is, I'll get the things ready for making sausage." I pushed the saw back to its spot and flicked off the switch, pulling open a double door storage space I drew the electrical meat grinder and sausage filler from the bottom. I placed them one after the other on the table where we had been working, then I fetched the insides of the grinder and assembled it, making sure that the cutting blade was sharp and the sieve clean.

Unrolling the cables, I attached them to wall outlets, switched on the power and fetched another huge basin to hold the minced meat. Then I went outside to fetch the spices in the storage space. I placed them on the work counter next to the sink and placed the meat close to the grinder, switching it on, I started to drop pieces into the opening on top and watched as they came out in the front, minced and ready for spices. I was still busy with this when Eydis returned with her bread.
 
Maybe Chris' arms and hands were rested after he used the saw, I smiled at him and gladly put the hatchet down, picked two nice joints with a lot of meat and sinews still on them out off the big basin. Chris hadn't cut off the meat as neatly as I was used to do. It could be possible he left it on on purpose, he had said he liked to make soup from the bones. Or maybe he had left it on especially for Herta. I didn't ask him, I was too pleased to visit my dog.

Herta was happy to see me, but even more so with the bones I put close to her mouth. She did lick my hand before she licked the bones though.

The two pups looked fine. Naked, blind and deaf, they had snuggled close to their Mom.
Their chests' rose and fell, their limbs twisted once in a while. Their bellies were round, it looked like they had just fed. Carefully I caressed their backs, smiling at the feel of the soft hairless and warm skin.

When I rightened myself things went black for a tiny moment. It shocked me a bit, but I shrugged my shoulders. I had been quite ill after all and I had been moving around all morning.

Taking a bit of time I walked to the kitchen. The door beside the door of the freezer, Chris had said. I opened it and gasped. This room was almost as big as my living room/kitchen. Shelf after gleaming shelf presented themselves at me. Metal and plastic containers, plastic bags and glass bottles, cartons and bowls, my eyes couldn't take it in completely. Close to the door was the bread and on a shelf below it a bowl with intestines. I took out both, closed the door, cut two slices off the bread, wrapped it again and put it back on the shelf.

I drained some of the water from the bowl, afraid it otherwise would slop over me when I walked. I was a bit apprehensive about it, I didn't know if Chris wanted to use it for soup, since there was salt in it. Taking a bite from one of the slices, I put them on a plate.

I nearly dropped everything, the bowl, the plate with the bread, when I entered the butchery. Chris was using yet another machine! This one minced the meat. Chris put meat in on the top, and at the front minced meat fell into a bowl.

"Wow ..." I whispered. I cleared my throat. "I have some bread for you too. That machine is amazing. Would it cut up nuts too? And dry bread? And other things you want to have chopped fine?"

I put the plate on the table, took another bite, put the bowl beside a sink.

"Do you need this water for soup? I drained a bit in the kitchen sink before I thought of putting it in a bowl. What is that other machine for? I saw the hide rolled up in the cold room, what do you want to do with it, did you put the brain aside to tan the hide or do you use oak or something else?
 
I looked up at Eydis when she entered, "Well I suppose that if you need it do that it most likely could. But for nuts and so there is a grinder in the kitchen. Hardly use it anymore, I just have to make food for myself and that usually boils down to eggs, ham, venison, bread and vegetables. I'm not much into the whole cooking thing."

I shook my head at the next question, "No, you can throw away the water, unless you know how to use it, then I can leave that in your capable hands." Only after I had spoken did I notice that I have paid her a compliment, but I didn't dwell on it. I finished with grinding the meat, disassembled the grinder, cleaned it with warm, soapy water, rinsed it and placed it on the other table to dry, then I started to add the spices from the packets to the mince, when I was done, I sealed the packets again and placed it all next to a sink.

"Right, now that can wait for a few minutes, you need help with those intestines?"
 
I blushed. Had Chris me just complimented? He must have rinsed the intestines once or twice the night before, the water didn't stink too much when I drained it.

"Sometimes, if the supplies are low, we use water like this for the pigs' slobber, or for the dogs. Not that we would have many pigs left to feed if supplies would have run that low," I shrugged my shoulders. "Neither would there be many dogs left then."

Water running out off a tab was wonderful to clean the intestines. I held one end under the tap and watched the water flow through it. This way the water took the rests out much quicker and much more thorough than when I swirled the intestines through water. Very carefully I turned them inside out and washed them in fresh water.

"Thank you, I don't need help, they are clean." I grinned. "I suppose you have a machine to fill them?" I look over to Chris, who was looking at me after he had seasoned the mince. I got one off the knives I used before and cut the intestines in pieces of about a meter and hung them over the tap to so that most of the water could drip out.

I dried my hands on a towel and took an other bite from my bread.

"Pancakes?" I mumbled with my mouth half full. "Cake? Jam? Jam-rolls? Cookies?" Much more audible the last words since I had emptied my mouth. "Don't you like them, or don't you just not cook them for yourself?"

I took another bite and chewed carefully. We had some time until the intestines had dried a bit. I leaned my butt against the sink and studied the bread in my hand.

"Bread with herbs in it, smoked bacon, smoked bacon and herbs, or dried fruit, or nuts, or dried fruit and nuts, worked in the dough or spread on the dough which gets rolled or layered before you bake it? Do you like that? Or some of this bread mixed with some milk, or wine, or brandy, or beer to fill the pheasant I shot? You know most of a pheasant is feathers, don't you? Not much meat on those birds I am afraid, but they taste nice!"
 
Chris

"Well it's not that I don't like them, I just don't know how to make them." I had by now turned away and assembled the sausage filler, it was practically a cylinder with a tapered point out of which a metal pipe jutted and a crank at the back which forced a seal down the length of the cylinder. "Well it's not really a machine, but it does help a lot." I said indicating the filler, then turned to look at her and again realized that she wasn't a soldier, she wasn't like me. This thought should have been troubling, but instead I found that it was a good thing, as I would never have noticed her femininity if she was one of "us"

"I can't say about the beer, never had any, nor brandy. There is some rum left, but I have never shot a pheasant so I never had to use it with bread. Sounds interesting though." It only dawned on me then that we were waiting, I leaned against the table, resting my hands on the edge of the table.
 
I gasped, masked it by taking a bite of the bread, when Chris changed his position. I couldn't stop a slight blush creeping up on my cheeks though, when some misty memories called for attention.

His chest. His muscles. He had carried me last night. I had been sick, quite sick, but my body had noted and now remembered. And the way he stood now, leaning back on his hands, showed his chest off in a wonderful way. I had to lick my lip, to catch some crumbs, of course.

I coughed.

"Water," I mumbled and turned, opened the faucet and drank out off the hollow of my hand again. Hastily I shoved the last piece of bread in my mouth. I still felt faint, but not only because I was weak.

"The sausages," I said aloud. "Lets get them done, and then clean up here and then I'll clean the pheasant. Sitting," I added softly.
 
I was caught slightly by suprise when Eydis started sputtering and a slight blush came to her cheeks. Perhaps a few crumbs went the wrong way? Either way, I pushed away from the table and picked up one of the plastic bins. Mixing up the meat and spices, I made balls of meat and then dumped them into the bin. "You can get the intestines, I'll show you how to pull them over the nozzle."

When I was done with half of the minced meat, I took the bin over to the filler, cranked back on the seal, lifted the cylinder and filled it with meat. After settling it back and cranking the seal back into position, I showed Eydis how to open the intestine and pull it over the nozzle, when all was ready, I slowly turned the crank, the meat got forced into the intestine and pushed it forward, "Now you just need to keep it moving and prevent breakage."
 
"You can get the intestines, I'll show you how to pull them over the nozzle."

I had to bite my lip to not start laughing. How did he think we made sausages? We didn't have such a fancy contraption but the principle was the same, you put the intestines over a piece of pipe, push the meat in, by hand or by machine.

While he mixed the meat, I gathered the knives and cutting boards, put them in a sink and looked in awe at the hot water flowing over them when I opened the faucet. Just to see how hot it was, I held a finger in the stream. Quickly I pulled it back. The water was hot! Really hot. My eyes wide open I glanced at Chris. He was busy with the meat, so I tried it again. And again. Until Chris took the meat over to the sausage-machine.

Putting the intestines in a clean bowl and swirl around to him was just one move, but a dizzying one. My feet planted firmly on the ground, shoulder wide, I stood in front of the thing and watched him pull a piece over it.

"Now you just need to keep it moving and prevent breakage."

I nodded. Bit my lip to mask a grin. Just the same as we did it.

My hand under the forming string of sausage I guided it down on the table. This way was much quicker than our way.

"I would press the crank with clean hands, it would be easier to clean the thing, but otherwise a marvelous way to make sausages." I couldn't prevent a bit of irony showing in my voice.

The piece was nearly filled, and I reached over with my clean hand to stop the crank. Chris put more meat in the machine while I put a new piece of sausage skin over the nozzle. Within minutes it seemed to me, we had filled most of the intestines.

"Now we would close the ends with some hemp or something and hang the smaller pieces in the smokehouse, and later in the larder to dry them thoroughly and the some of the bigger pieces we would twist every hand length, put in a pan and cook slowly on low heat, then we would put them in a container and pour the fat over it. In a cool place they would keep a week or two. Much longer in winter than in summer of course. And some we would eat the same night."

With the back of my hand I wiped a few sweat beads from my brow. It was warm in here!
 
I sensed that she was amused, more at me than at anything else, so I guess that they had a similar technique back home, she didn't say anything though, apart from using clean hand to turn the crank. When we were done, I picked up the machine and carried it to the sink, cleaning it as I disassembled it. When that was done, I stepped outside and headed for the storage room, returning with clear plastic bags.

"Or we can section them and store them in the freezer, we can dry some, it's been a while since I had dried sausage." I placed the bags on the table and pulled a sausage from the bin, broke it off at the right length, rolled it up and placed it into the bag. I noticed then that she was sweating. That was just wrong, she shouldn't be sweating in here, it's practically cold, "You OK?"

On first glance she was, but when you really looked, you saw that she wasn't OK, she had turned pale under her tan, there was a slight tremor to her hands and she was sweating. I reached out and laid the back of my fingers on her brow, "You're burning up."
 
"You OK?" Chris asked.

I nodded. Why wouldn't I be okay? He didn't seem to believe me though, he laid his fingers on my brow.

"You're burning up."

I shook my head, frowned.

"No, I am not. I have no time to burn, I don't want to burn. I am just a bit thirsty." I walked over to the green faucet I drunk from before. It seemed far away. Farther than I remembered.

"I'll drink some water, " I said loud enough for Chris to hear me from the distance, "and then I'll clean the bird. I need the feathers for my vest."
 
OK she slurred some words, her walk was a bit wobbly and her raised voice indicated a depth perception problem. I moved closer, catching her as her knees gave way and prevented her from hitting her head on the steel cabinet or sink. She was burning up, I could feel her body's heat through the material of her clothing. "OK you had enough for one day."

I wasn't sure if she heard me or not, at least she didn't struggle or resist when I picked her up and carried her back to her room. I settled her down in bed, slipped her out of the coverall but left the rest of her clothing on. A tea made from the grounded roots of the ... Uhm ok two names, so the curative plant, a few cold compresses and lots of water later, she seemed to have gotten over the worst and the fever had subsided.

I left her with enough water if she woke up and checked in on her dog and pups, they were asleep. I returned to the butchery and finished packing the sausages, I took some to the drying room, this was where we made jerky in the past. I hung up some of the sausages and placed the fan on them. After packing the sausages away, I settled down in a chair with a cup of coffee, I would get to the bird a bit later. Dinner was going to be a tasty affair if I could only get a recipy for the pheasant.
 
Suddenly Treebeard was back. He had shed all leaves though, and I was slightly worried about him.

He was strong enough to carry me though. A long time I slowly rocked with his movements. This was a very nice way of getting somewhere. When he put me down, I protested. He didn't pick me up again though. He made me shed my leaves too. It made me grin. I was an ent too!

A bit later Chris came and gave me some awful tea to drink. I pushed him away, and wanted to know where Treebeard lived, why he had gone and if he was alright.

And then I was alone.
 
I had looked everywhere I could think of, journals, hand-written cook books and I even went through some of the old printed books, but I couldn't find a recipy for pheasant and I wasn't sure if it was the same as chicken or crow. So I cleaned it, keeping the feathers whole and clean for Eydis, gutted it and placed it in the freezer.

I had a hearty breakfast, so I want hungry yet, but I thought that Eydis would most likely be a bit hungry at dinner time. Thinking of her, reminded me that I haven't checked in on her in some time. Recalling her fast recuperation time, I went to her room and stepped up to the side of her bed. I checked her pulse and felt her forehead, already she was starting to appear better.

I gave her a smile, "Hey there. Feeling a bit better now?"
 
A few times something disturbed my sleep, my leg. I rubbed it and turned and slept again.

Soft sounds woke me up. My head throbbed. My tongue felt numb.
Cool fingers felt my pulse, lay a moment on my brow. I opened my eyes and blinked.

"Hey there. Feeling a bit better now?"

Chris smiled down at me. I turned on my back and smiled back. My leg itched. I rubbed the heel of my other foot over it.

"Yes. Thank you. Did you give me Red-striper tea?" I did my very best to articulate precisely. And I had to pull up my leg. It didn't help. I lifted it in the air to not rub over the wound with my other foot again. I took my healthy foot in both hands and laid the other one down again.

"The wound is starting to itch really bad! That darn tea! I can't drink it. They bind me to the bed if it really, really were necessary I had to drink it! It works too well on me if I drink it! You better get those shackles again! But first I have to pee!" I rolled myself around, and jumped to my feet. I stamped my foot on the floor, slapped my fist against my thigh. I did my very best to speak calmly and controlled.

"You are lucky the itching has started, otherwise I'd rip your head off!"
 
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I arched an eyebrow, "Ah you're one of those. Well do your thing and I'll get the straps. Bertha and the pups are sleeping soundly, so you don't have to worry about them." There had been quite a few people who had a slight allergic reaction to the anti-biotics in the...let's call it Red-striper then, plant and usually we tied them down to prevent them from hurting themselves. It looked like Eydis had a bit more self-control, but no need to tempt fate.

As she went on her merry way to do her thing, I went to the sick bay and retrieved the straps, returning to her room, I secured them to the bed and waited for her return.
 
The wound on my leg and some other spots on my body had been itchy since I woke up in the morning, I realized while I ran to the toilet. Keeping myself busy had made it possible to ignore it.

I had put Red-striper mush on the wound, but I had chewed it to make the mush and swallowed some of the juice. My tongue had been numb. Chris had put extract in the "drip" he had made me. And before he made me drink the tea. That were three doses (or more) which had landed inside my body instead of on the outside.

Remembering the drip, I ripped the sticky bandage from my arm. The stinging feeling of hairs being ripped out off my skin suppressed the itching where the needle had entered my arm a moment. Sitting on the toilet, I looked at my arm. I couldn't find the small wound that had to be there. It had healed. I looked at my right thigh. The bruise that should be visible there, the result of me stumbling over a tree root two days ago, was gone.

I washed my hands in scolding hot water. It helped for three seconds. Three blissful seconds my brain did not register any itching anywhere on my body. On the way back I pounded the walls, each pound with my fists helped for a second.

"Bruise is gone!" I yelled at Chris when I entered my room. "All small scratches are gone, I can't see where the needle was, nothing!" I fell down on my bed, pulled my leg up. The big wound with the red punctures of the stitches around it, was just a tiny, wobbly red line, a little wider and with a little bulge where the original wound had been. The red line was where I had cut it open before I put the mush on and where Chris had cut it open to clean it again. With Red-sniper extract.

"It is healing too fast," I whimpered. "The itch ... Chris, it is killing me! I can't not think of it anymore." I curled up in a tight ball, my hands clenched around my knees.
 
I started when Eydis came rushing in, shouting at me that her minor injuries was gone and that she was healing too fast. She curled up into ball and I frowned, this could not be from the drip and the tea. There just wasn't enough...waaaaaait a minute. I gently pried her left hand from her leg and secured it' then took the right and secured it as well. I took her chin and tilted her head so that she could look up at me.

"When you made that poultice that was on your leg when I found you, did you chew the leaves and perhaps swallowed some of the juice?"

On her confirmation, I ran my hand over my face, well there wasn't much I could do except feed her. "Listen Eydis, your body is busy breaking down all your stored energy to heal itself. I'm going to give you something to eat, it will not look like normal food, but it will work better than food."

I hurried to the storage room next to the kitchen, I picked up three tubes of energy paste and returned to her room, the way she writhed almost made me feel bad for her, I uncapped one of the tubes and moved closer, "Open up."
 
Chris pried my hands away and tied them to the bed. Before I could tell him to tie my legs down too, he disappeared, after telling me he would get me some food.

I had been ill until yesterday evening, my stomach and the fever, the infected wound on my leg, but how I felt then, was noting compared to how I felt now. I felt super alive. Except for the itching. I tugged at the straps. I tugged a bit more. I felt stronger than the straps. I moved my legs, put my feet against the bed frame. Then one foot against the wall. I pulled again. Then I cursed. I shouldn't be doing this. It was not helping.

I tried to relax. I told myself to not give in to the mood, the "being superior" feeling I experienced. Concentrating on the itch was better. It meant I had to move around, to feel as much itch as I could without scratching it.

"Open up," Chris said.

"Yes," I said through clenched teeth. "But first you need to tie me down better. I just "tested" the straps. I think the bed frame has bend a bit."
 
I inspected the frame, the sturdy metal was just that. Sturdy. She would need to do a lot more of power lifting before she could even bend it. Though if we were still in the sick bay, that might have been a different story. "Alright, I will secure you better, but only because you asked me to." I placed the packages of food on the bedstand, then went back to the sick bay. I returned with the full compliment of straps, "Just remember. You asked for this."

With the efficiency borne from repetition, I secured the straps to the bed frame, then I strapped down her ankles with the padded straps. I strapped down her legs with a strap over her shins and a strap over the top of her knees. Her waist got pulled down into the bed by a thick strap and I strapped the last one over her torso. I looked down at her, there was one strap left, but I doubt that I'd need it, it was used to strap the head down and keep the patient completely immobile. I picked up the open package and moved back to the bed, "Now, open up please."
 
He actually checked the bed frame. Concentrating on not to giggle, while he bend over and looked at the frame, was great.

The time until Chris returned with more straps was awful. I tugged at the straps around my wrists until my wrists hurt; slapped my feet against the mattress simultaneously and alternating; I clenched my jaws together and tried to stop moving when I heard Chris' footsteps nearing my room.

"Just remember. You asked for this."


I pressed a yes from between my clenched jaws.

I was so tired and high-strung but felt ready to hunt one of the sabertooths. On my own.

I did not kick Chris while he attached the straps to my bed. I helped him strapping me down by holding as still as I could.

"Now, open up please."

I opened my mouth. And swallowed mouthful after mouthful of an awful tasting fatty cream. It tasted a little bit like pemmican. A few times I had to turn my head away -because Chris would simply press on the tube again when he saw I had swallowed- and ask for water.

When finally the three tubes were empty I told Chris to secure my head too. I knew I wouldn't sleep for a long time. I knew there was no sleep inducing tea he could give me. He could give it to me, but it wouldn't work with all the Red-striper in my body now.

As he tightened the band over my brow, I asked him to get Herta and the pups back into my room.
 
I nodded at her request and realized then that I had placed her in the wrong room. What the hell was going on with me? I went back to her room, managed to move Hertha and her pups without even receiving a threatening growl and also brought Eydis' gear. After settling in the bitch and her pups and stowing Eydis' gear, I switched off the light and pulled the door half-closed behind me. "If you need help, holler." I went back to the common room and started to disassemble my hunting rifle and cleaning it. There wasn't much to do, with Eydis' help the meat was done, the only real thing left to do was to clean the kennel and to salt the hide until Eydis could show me what they did with it. I bent over the table, concentrating on the rifle.
 
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