What's all this then?
It just so happens that a while back I posted some notes on amputation since I'd been researching it for Harts Change. The main character, Evelyn Oneeye is minus a hand and her
dog is down to three legs, the correct name for this condition is tripawd but
that probably won't make it into the book.
For your perusal I offer a few drafts that I've been working on and, at this point in time, are outdated enough to be considered safe to post.
Background:
In order for some of this mess to make sense you might need
some background so here goes.
- Thanks
to the first outbreak of real magic in many centuries the shape of
humanity has been altered to a more Cervidae form.
- Evelyn
Oneeye escaped from Baron Trailin, had her life saved by Leonia and subsequently
escaped again after it was revealed that she was wearing Leonia’s
adoration which, if left unchecked, would have left her little more than a
slave with no real will of her own.
- Now
she has managed to make her way to Lilytown, a small village with no
survivors.
- As always anything
that looks like this are notes for things that need to done or, more
usually, fixed. I've left them in because I'm too lazy to take them out.
- ...Now
Read On
- Saving the Dog:
[In which Evelyn and Straggletaggle meet and love
blooms. Well not really, but there
is a heart involved.]
A little ways up the track out
of town she hears sound of dogs and comes to a fork in the road with a crude
sign which was nothing more than a dog burnt into a tree. She follows the path towards what used to be
a mine.
The dog fighting pits are a long
abandoned mine that have been refitted into a series of pits for fighting
dogs. As with everywhere else in the
place there are a number of corpses and the main building has collapsed on
itself due to a large crack in the earth.
The smaller buildings have undergone similar damage but they aren't
important. Already some of the dogs have
gone wild although none are attacking her just yet.
The large dog thing, she had to
call it a dog because tables didn't move and ponies didn't bark. “At least they
never did before today” barked and with its hackles and hair up surely it
wasn't as big as it appeared, chained to the middle is being harassed by a pair
of lean fighting dogs who have managed to get free.
[nw:
It looked like it had some wolf in it. Judging by its size it looked like it
had some horse in it as well.
To judge by the colouring she would say that it had some wolf in it but to
judge by the size she would say that it had some horse in it as well.
This
works as filler but not at this point I think]
It is easy to see that the dog is a veteran of the ring and knows enough to
properly conserve its strength But with patience the smaller dogs are wearing
him down. Evelyn drives these dogs off
with some well-placed rocks and the pair slink off in search of easier
prey. The dog growls low as she
approaches, straining at the end of the chain in an effort to get to her.
A bucket of almost solid ice and
the corpses of several dogs told her everything.
The welljudge. ultimate fate of any animal, champion or not, who had outlived their
usefulness. The heavy chains tethered
the dogs to each other and for one to reach the water the others had to die.
“Welljudge” she spat in disgust at the sight “Fucking barbarians” [They could have given you lot a clean death but that's
far too easy”]
Again the dog lunged madly at her when she got close, pulled up short by the
length of his chain and the weight of his dead partner.
“You don't want to do that” she pushed a bucket of ice water into his range
with the spear. The dog worried the
spear a little but then fell onto the bucket of water with enthusiasm. His stumpy half tail moving slowly from side
to side and his eyes never leaving hers sent a mixed message.
“I'm going to set you free” she pulled at the heavy pin that held the chain
fast to the post “because I know what it is to live in the chains of
another. But know that if you go for me
then I'll kill you and let your friends finish you off”
The clap of the chain against
the stone startled the dog into movement with only long habit pulling him up
short before the chain could tighten against his throat. Realizing that something was finally
different it turned around on itself once and once again before running off with
a distinctive limp and the length of chain trailing behind him.
“There's my good deed for the day” Evelyn mused and examined the spear where
the dog had bitten but was distracted by an angry roar and the renewed sounds
of fighting.
The pit bear was clearly on his
last legs but sill the king although judging by the amount of scars that showed
through the thin and mangy fur it was a kingship that had been hard in the
earning and harder still in the keeping.
Its range was restricted by a heavy chain that bound it to the pits central
post and the heavy shackle had rubbed at the bear’s leg until it was raw and
festering.
The dog darted in and out, confusing his old opponent and using his greater
speed as an advantage. But a heavy blow
from the bear slammed it into the wall where it lay motionless but still
breathing. The bear roared out in his
victory and reached out for his challenger, pulling him in by the very chain
that had once held him prisoner.
Without giving herself time to think Evelyn advanced and dashed in to bury the
spear into the bear’s chest. It wasn't
ever going to be the cleverest of moves as the beast, maddened with rage and
pain, took no notice of the wound [that, in a
lesser creature, would have been mortal] that should have been mortal
and his large claws drew blood as they raked at her hindquarters.
But even as it looked down at her the fighting dog, ignoring the blood that ran
freely from its own wound arose and attacked again. This time getting past the claws and savaging
the thick fur.
Maddened as with rage and pain the monster took no notice of the wound that
should have been mortal his claws drew blood as they raked at her
hindquarters. It turned to focus on her
and that was a mistake because the dog, ignoring the blood that gushed freely
from its own wound, rose from the ground and attacked again. This time managing to get past the claws and
terrible snapping jaws to sink its teeth into the bears thick neck, ignoring
the spray of blood to savage it until both combatants collapsed onto the frozen
ground.
With her spear next to useless she draws the chisel and makes certain that the
bear is finally dead and although the dog growls when she approaches it does
not have the strength for anything else.
“You're a brave one dog” she stroked his head and then reached for the knife
“it's not right you should end like this”
the dog flinched as the blade touched a raw section of skin but
something stopped her from pushing it any deeper and putting the beast out of
his misery.
“I'll be cursed if I just let you die without even trying”
The strong ribs had already
cracked but with her hands as slippery with blood and gore as they were pulling
them apart was difficult, it was worth it to expose the heart and cut it free
of the body. With the bucket leaking
blood and the dog slung across her back she turned back to the village.
[nw:
Evelyn’s injuries need to be talked up.
They start hurting when she tries to move the dog back to the smiths
house]
- The
dogs surgery:
[Where
the dog tries hard to go through deaths doggy door and Evelyn tries just
as hard to stop him]
A series of frantic scrambles
for even the most basic of equipment while the dog lay, far too still on top of
the table. His lifeblood staining the spiral message that she had left just a
short time before.
The last of the smiths clean
clothing were quickly sacrificed for bandages and her night was a mixture of
blood, sinew and endless stitchery.
“Those other curs wouldn't have survived a bear. But you did because you're a champion and I
didn't free you only to stand by and see them throw their life away. So I'll make you a deal fighter dog. I'll put you back together and you don't die
on me alright?”
Her torrent of words and emotions eventually settled down into a simple mumbled
litany but as she spoke her work was steadily progressing the burnt shell of
the tavern was scoured and an unbroken clay bottle of powerful spirits was
recovered from the hands of the dead who had no more need of it.
The rough spirits cleaned the
wounds easily enough although the dog growled and thrashed around whenever it
hit his exposed flesh and then whimpered in pained agony as she cauterized them
with the iron poker or pulled out more of her hair so that she could sew him
back together.
The most serious wounds were
from the bears heavy mauling and how this hadn't finished him off she couldn't
say but by the time she'd finished the stitches stretched across his large
chest and gently curved around the neck before ending in the same small flower
that her mother had used all those years ago.
[nw: the flower behind the ear is a plot
point. It identifies the dog as hers
when she encounters Glino the Dogman outside
Tardeel]
“Don't move!” she ordered as he twisted round to look at what she was doing “if
you break these things my mother is going to come back from the dead and tell
you off something horrible and, none of us
want's that. It was hard enough getting me to sew at the
best of times. Now let’s have
a look at that leg of yours”
- The
leg amputation:
[In
which the title explains what happens better than I can.]
Calling it a leg was generous; The discoloured skin branched out towards the
thigh while the old wound itself oozed oily green pus.
“Bastards just left you to die” mangy fur came away easily from the flea
ravaged wound. “sorry about this my friend”
the sharp blade of the chisel sliced open the healthy flesh above
the mess of the dogs leg and then she was forced to hold him down, get sprayed
in the face with buckets of blood and avoid the powerful snapping jaws by the
narrowest of margins.
“Calm down! I am trying to help you!” he
growled a few moments longer but lay back on the table, exhausted once
more. “that things going to have to come
off. I can't save it and you'll be dead within a week if it doesn't”
Maybe the dog understood, maybe
it was just drained of his strength but he lowered his large head to the table
top and allowed her work to continue.
The heavy blade of the axe bit deeply into the table but was quickly forgotten
while she held the beast down and was again drenched in his blood. Again her job was stitching and cleaning with
the one hand and holding the dog down with her stump.
As the winter sun surrendered the sky to the freshly born pair of moons the dog
raised its head and licked at her cheek weakly.
She carefully untied the wide belt that had served as the tourniquet and
rubbed uselessly at her own stained arms.
It was over at last, what was supposed to be on the inside was more or
less back on the inside and that bad leg had been taken care of with an axe and
rather nice piece of blanket stitch
that she was secretly proud of.
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