Raju’s eyebrows pull together at the sound of that voice. Only a moment ago Francis had been running though every rough step must have pained him, had been pulling Raju to safety, saving his life— but a moment ago they were being chased by wolves. When a man is running to keep his life, he might do all sorts of things you hadn’t expected him to before. But Francis sounds so weak now.
Raju takes a bracing breath, straightening his back. Cold. That should be the first thing. A fire to warm Francis up, and allow Raju to take a real look at him. He’ll take care of that first, and everything else will follow from there. There’s the fireplace in the room just to his right filled with a few ancient looking logs and ashes, and that will be enough to start with.
Tinder first. There’s an old newspaper nearby— further from town, this cabin might be less picked over than the ones closer — and Raju grabs it, then digs the quartz and the head of some old hammer, small but good enough to spark, out from the pocket in the blanket over Francis’ chest, then moves over to the fireplace with them. He crumples the newspaper and tears it roughly, more concerned with being quick than thorough, and watches his hands try to mimic the movements that remind him of Seetha now, of remembering the way she’d used to light the stove before meals, the way he’d used to sit and watch and talk to her. But the smooth way he’d been able to do it when he’d practiced before is gone; his hands aren’t steady enough for anything that precise. They’re shaking again, or shaking still, he’d thought that had stopped but he can’t get a single damned spark.
He looks over his shoulder, frowning, jaw clenched. It’s too dark yet, he can’t see Francis from here, and the man’s voice had been so quiet before. At this rate if he says anything else at all, needs anything, Raju isn’t going to hear it.
Damn it all. This first, then. Francis will need to be closer to the fireplace eventually anyway. Raju tosses the useless quartz and steel on the ground and walks back over, crouching behind Francis’ head.
“I’m going to drag you now,” Raju tells him matter of factly, not sure if his words are even being heard, saying them anyway. “It’s probably going to hurt.” He takes a breath for more, an apology waiting behind his teeth, but hesitates before it comes out. It doesn’t do anyone any good, does it, apologizing for something that he’s still going to do.
Still, he hesitates.
Then he moves, sliding his arms under Francis’ shoulders and hooking his elbows around Francis’ armpits, and goes backward in a crouch. It isn’t far. He’ll be able to settle Francis where he needs him in a moment, in a few seconds, and then Raju will be able to hear if anything happens, and then he can figure out how to get on with things.
no subject
Raju takes a bracing breath, straightening his back. Cold. That should be the first thing. A fire to warm Francis up, and allow Raju to take a real look at him. He’ll take care of that first, and everything else will follow from there. There’s the fireplace in the room just to his right filled with a few ancient looking logs and ashes, and that will be enough to start with.
Tinder first. There’s an old newspaper nearby— further from town, this cabin might be less picked over than the ones closer — and Raju grabs it, then digs the quartz and the head of some old hammer, small but good enough to spark, out from the pocket in the blanket over Francis’ chest, then moves over to the fireplace with them. He crumples the newspaper and tears it roughly, more concerned with being quick than thorough, and watches his hands try to mimic the movements that remind him of Seetha now, of remembering the way she’d used to light the stove before meals, the way he’d used to sit and watch and talk to her. But the smooth way he’d been able to do it when he’d practiced before is gone; his hands aren’t steady enough for anything that precise. They’re shaking again, or shaking still, he’d thought that had stopped but he can’t get a single damned spark.
He looks over his shoulder, frowning, jaw clenched. It’s too dark yet, he can’t see Francis from here, and the man’s voice had been so quiet before. At this rate if he says anything else at all, needs anything, Raju isn’t going to hear it.
Damn it all. This first, then. Francis will need to be closer to the fireplace eventually anyway. Raju tosses the useless quartz and steel on the ground and walks back over, crouching behind Francis’ head.
“I’m going to drag you now,” Raju tells him matter of factly, not sure if his words are even being heard, saying them anyway. “It’s probably going to hurt.” He takes a breath for more, an apology waiting behind his teeth, but hesitates before it comes out. It doesn’t do anyone any good, does it, apologizing for something that he’s still going to do.
Still, he hesitates.
Then he moves, sliding his arms under Francis’ shoulders and hooking his elbows around Francis’ armpits, and goes backward in a crouch. It isn’t far. He’ll be able to settle Francis where he needs him in a moment, in a few seconds, and then Raju will be able to hear if anything happens, and then he can figure out how to get on with things.