The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 12 - Chapter 24

Chapter 24: A Wounded Beast

They didn’t manage to cross the rocky desert that day, so they had to pitch camp on the wastes that night. It was cold, and Maomao wrapped herself in a blanket in addition to her usual outerwear. Her breath fogged in front of her each time she exhaled, and her ears stung so badly she thought they might fall off. This was no grassy plain, and the ground resisted their attempts to drive pegs into it, making it hard to pitch their tents. Instead, they slept in the wagons.

When Chue saw Maomao shivering, she left to get more blankets.

If she could just get to sleep, Maomao thought, it would soon be morning, but sleep eluded her. Just as she thought she was finally drifting off, her eyes snapped open again. It was hard to keep them open against the cold and the fatigue and the general torpor, but she forced herself. The wagon’s cover was dyed red.

Still clasping the blanket around her, Maomao leaned outside. One of the other wagons was on fire, tongues of flame licking the air. The horses whinnied, and men raced to douse the blaze. The fire was much more violent than she might have expected; it must have been the feed cart that had caught.

With everyone distracted by the burning wagon, nobody noticed the figure approaching Maomao.

“Hngh?!” she exclaimed as she felt a blow to her side. No sooner had she registered the pain than she tumbled out of the wagon and hit the ground.

She heard a voice growl, “You little witch...”

She looked up to see the one-eyed Bear-Man. His single remaining eye was red, and blood dribbled from his mouth. He was missing several of his front teeth, but in exchange the ropes around his hands and feet dangled free. He must have chewed through them.

His broken arms hung limply at his sides. To the right one he had lashed a metal club—less to support himself, it seemed, than to use as a weapon.

“At least...I can kill you!”

The bear-man didn’t even seem to feel pain anymore.

Maomao guessed that it was the non-club hand that had slammed into her, indicating Bear-Man’s intention not to knock her out, but to leave her conscious so he could torment her.

He’s going to kill me.

Maomao’s thick blanket had absorbed some of the impact, but it still hurt. She had to get to her feet, had to run away.

Bear-Man advanced on her. Maomao crawled backward and tried to get up, but she couldn’t. Her body was still numb and unsteady from the fall. If only she could run to the others, they might be able to do something. If only...

Bear-Man was faster, though, and launched himself at her before she could flee. Her only thought was of protecting her head; she covered her face and squeezed her eyes shut.

She had no idea how much time passed then. It could have been an instant, it could have been half an hour.

Bear-Man’s fist never fell on her.

Instead, she heard Chue’s voice. “Pardon me, Miss Maomao!”

Maomao opened her eyes. Against the backdrop of the blazing wagon, she saw the silhouette of Bear-Man with Chue on top of him. Something sprayed from what she took to be his neck.

“I look away for one second...” Chue said. She hopped off of Bear-Man, and he slumped to the ground. “Sorry I’m not more presentable. Are you hurt?”

“No,” Maomao said slowly. “I’m all right.” Relief warred with amazement inside her. Chue’s face was covered with Bear-Man’s blood. Maomao was just glad Xiaohong hadn’t been in the wagon with her. She must still be with her uncle.

“I told him we should have cleaned up this loose end.”

A strangled voice said, “Ya...couldthn’t be more righth...”

Chue instantly turned and caught the fist that swung down at her. Actually, it might be better to say the fist was dropped on her. Bear-Man’s arm had no more bones left to support its movements.

Maomao heard the bones in his already shattered arms being pulverized further; even Chue jumped back as if to shield herself from the blow.

The bear-man’s crushed arms hung feebly at his sides, and blood still poured from his mouth and neck. Anyone else would have been dead long ago, so how was he still alive? He was like one of those snakes that kept slithering along even after you hacked off its head.

Chue, however, moved promptly to stand in front of Maomao. In her left hand she held her knife. She gritted her teeth and drove it toward Bear-Man’s chest, sinking the blade into the space between his ribs, just a little left of center. “Please let this be the end,” she grunted.

This isn’t the first time she’s done this, Maomao realized. Chue drew the knife back out without a moment’s hesitation, almost businesslike.

Still Bear-Man remained on his feet. “Ah’m...not d-d...done...yeth...”

He raised his hand again, and Chue hopped backward. Just at that moment, there was a thock, and an arrow buried itself in Bear-Man’s other eye.

“You really don’t know when to quit,” a man said with pity in his voice. It was Shikyou. He raised his hand, and his troops let loose with their arrows. Bear-Man gave a piercing scream; if there were words in there, it was impossible to make them out.

When the voice finally ceased, the bandit who had dubbed himself One-Eyed Dragon loomed there—dead, but still standing.

“I’m sorry. He took advantage of the moment I was distracted by the fire.” Shikyou was speaking to Maomao, but Maomao was more worried about Chue.

“Miss Maomao...” Chue said. “You really must pardon me.” She was smiling just like she always did—but what got Maomao’s attention was that the knife was in her left hand.

“Miss Chue!” Maomao placed a hand on Chue’s right shoulder. There was something wrong with it. She looked down, and although shadows obscured the sight, she thought she saw a dark discoloration. She touched Chue’s right arm and found it slick.

“Gosh, I really am sorry. Miss Chue just made a little slip,” Chue drawled. Her eyes were unfocused. When had she gotten injured? Maomao thought she had only closed her eyes for an instant; how many blows had they traded in that brief time?

Blood was seeping from Chue’s stomach too. Maomao immediately picked her up and carried her to the wagon. Bear-Man was in bad shape, but Chue was hardly better.

“Somebody boil some water! And bring me my medical supplies!” Maomao shouted. She didn’t care if she was speaking to Shikyou.

“Y-Yeah, right away,” he said.

Maomao, meanwhile, stripped off Chue’s robe. Her broken arm was practically torn in half, and her abdomen was covered in contusions. Both injuries were serious, but Maomao needed to prioritize checking her internal organs.

Chue’s body was also covered in a host of old scars that, in their way, bespoke her personal history. Some of them looked to be from wounds a warrior would have been proud to take on the battlefield; others were clearly the result of torture.

“Miss Maomao...”

“Don’t talk!” Maomao commanded frantically.

“Oh, do let me... Do let me talk.” Chue brushed Maomao’s cheek with her left hand. “My right hand won’t be any use after this, will it?”

“We don’t know that yet!”

“Sure we do. Its day is done!”

Maomao found herself speechless. The hand was, in truth, barely still attached.

Maomao rued how easily Chue had seen through her. She didn’t have the skill to reattach a severed limb. She could try, but chances were it would hardly function—if it didn’t simply rot off.

“If you think you can save it...then you should attend to my hand before my tummy.”

“Absolutely not. Abdomen first.” Internal organs were much more important to keeping her alive than her arm. The wound to her stomach was the priority.

“No... No. Without that hand, I have no value. Without that hand, that’s the end.”

“That’s not true.” Maomao took out what medicine she had with her: coagulants, cough suppressants, cold medicine. What was the point of any of it? “My life would be much harder without you, Miss Chue, so this can’t be the end. Whatever happens, you have to live!”

Maomao waited impatiently for Shikyou with the tools and water and fire. Outside, the other wagon was still blazing.

“Hoo hoo hoo... Miss Maomao, I might start to think you love me,” Chue said. Always that drawl.

“Yes! Yes, I love you, so please stop talking!”

At least if she was chattering so much, it suggested her lungs were in working order.

“That’s terrific. A confession of love from Miss Maomao! I’ll have to brag about it to the Moon Prince...” Chue almost looked innocent, childlike. “To be loved, even just for a little while—that’s a wonderful thing. You almost...start to think it means there’s a place you belong.”

Maomao didn’t say anything; she was too busy sliding her fingers along Chue’s abdomen. There was every possibility that one of her ribs had broken and pierced something.

“I know you have your circumstances, Miss Maomao. It’s important not to get carried away by your emotions! But...” Chue brushed Maomao’s cheek again with her bloodstained hand. “You can’t let that be an excuse either.”

She laughed again. “Hoo hoo hoo!” And then, without further ado, she closed her eyes.

Maomao blinked—and then she rushed to take Chue’s pulse. She could still feel it: ba-bum, ba-bum.

“Here,” Shikyou said. “Your water and tools.”

She took the supplies from him. She clutched a surgical knife in one hand and grabbed some disinfectant alcohol with the other.

I don’t know what she means by that, Maomao thought, biting her lip, but I’m not letting her go without a fight.

She felt her fists clench, and then she started the surgery.