Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
She heard the low growl after taking only a few short steps away from the cottage.
She turned toward the wooded area running behind the cottages. “Is that you, Bones?”
The growl came again and Tavia spotted two glowing eyes in the woods. She approached slowly, fearing Bones may have gotten hurt hunting an animal at night.
With a calm and soft voice, she asked, “Are you hurt, Bones?”
She thought she caught a whimper precede the growl that had lost some of its strength. Without any thought to danger, she kept walking and entered the woods. She saw too late it was not Bones. This hound was similar to Bones, but larger. He bared his teeth in a snarl, appearing ready to strike.
Fleeing was not an option, since the hound would certainly catch her. But she reasoned if he wished her harm he would have already attacked her. She let instinct rule and plopped down on the ground.
“I am here to help,” she said and laid her hand out beside her. “I mean you no harm.”
She sat there waiting, her bottom growing cold from the snow on the ground. The hound kept his glowing eyes on her and gradually his growl lessened, and he took cautious steps toward her. He stopped near her hand, hesitated, then slowly extended his snout out to sniff at it. He then stepped closer and sniffed her arm.
Tavia remained as she was, not moving, not wanting to startle or frighten the large animal. Though, when he brought his snout to sniff at her face, her stomach churned, and she lost a bit of her bravery. Some of it returned when he laid down and stretched out on his side in front of her.
“Something pains you,” she said, seeing the hurt in his eyes.
He whimpered as if he understood her.
She raised her hand slowly. “I need to touch you to see what is amiss. I will do my best not to hurt you.” She assumed he had presented his injured side to her and began to examine him with the lightest of touches. It was not until she reached his neck that she felt it and he let loose with a slight growl.
“I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you,” she said softly. It would be difficult with only a fraction of light from the partial moon to see the wound clearly, but she had no choice. He trusted her at the moment, and no one was around to warn her away or worse harm the hound for being too close to her. She would have to do her best with what little light there was and rely on instinct and touch to help him.
She probed the area gently and realized that something had embedded itself in the hound’s neck, a portion of it sticking out, and the skin had healed around it. Whatever it was, it was causing him pain and had to be removed. From what she could see and feel of it, it seemed a shard of sorts perhaps part of an arrowhead or some weapon that had struck him and broken off. With lack of care for the wound, the object had embedded itself in him and was causing him pain.
Tavia was glad she had wisely stuck a knife in her boot, a last-minute thought before leaving her bedchamber. It was one her da advised her to carry, and she rarely did except tonight. Perhaps it was being in a place that was still foreign to her and not fully knowing many people that had her grabbing the weapon. Whatever it had been, she was glad she had it.
“This is going to hurt,” she cautioned, stroking the hound gently.
Again, he whimpered as if he understood.
Her heart went out to him, and she spoke softly to him as she worked to strip away the crust around the shard as gently as she could.
“You are a brave one and so courageous to seek help,” she said, and his whimper continued as she continued to talk. Finally with the crusted scab cleaned away, she gave him a tender pat. “Again, this is going to hurt, and I am sorry for causing you pain.”
She gathered a mound of snow beside her, ripped a strip of cloth off the hem of her garment, and prayed that all would go well.
“All set,” she whispered and laid one hand on his head as her other hand took hold of the edge of the shard protruding from the wound. She hoped it would be quick and was not embedded too deeply in his neck where she would have to dig to get it out. She doubted the hound would tolerate that.
She took a deep breath and gave it a little yank to see if it was going to be difficult to extract. The hound whimpered and she soothed him with encouraging words and hoped one good yank would free it. She was relieved that it did. She immediately worried about excessive bleeding but first she cleaned around the wound with some of the snow, then worried it might bleed too much, she folded the strip of cloth and placed it on the wound, then she ripped another strip from her garment and wrapped it around the hound’s neck, splitting the cloth near the end to tie a knot and keep it in place.