Fury - Part 4
(Maggie)



A week passed in a fog of alternating pain and numbness. The food she had gathered for winter was dwindling far too rapidly. That didn’t seem to matter after the fifth day, when she found she had no appetite at all. Nausea became overwhelming at times and the reek of vomit was all pervading. The fire had gone out and not been rekindled. She seemed to be consumed by her own inner fire as the fever rose and her body tried to fight off the poisons coming from her shattered left leg.

The delirium lasted four days and nights. She awoke believing she was still dreaming because a woman was bending over her, cooling her forehead with a damp cloth. The fire was warm and there was an aroma of broth warming at the hearth.

“You gave us quite a scare when we found you here day before yesterday” the woman said as she poured broth into a small wooden bowl. “Rafael wasn’t at all convinced you would survive the night.”

She brought the bowl over to the makeshift bed.

“Fever’s down. You’ll be right as rain soon. I’m Maggie. We come up this way every other year or so, Rafael and me and Trina and all. Lucky for you!”

Maggie began spooning broth down into her, uttering soothing words when she gagged and coughed on occasion. When the bowl was empty she set it aside.

“You all alone here? No man to look out for ya? No one to help deliver you of the child an’ all? My Lord, but that ain’t right. Well, you have us now. Everything’ll be just fine. What’s your name honey? I can’t very well call you ‘hey you’ now can I?”

“My name’s Francine, but ever since I can remember my mom called me her Little Fury. I guess I have a bit of a temper” she smiled weakly at Maggie. “Thank you for looking after me. When the fire died, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I did too.”

“Now, now! None of that kind of talk. You’ll live and have plenty of time to reflect on the past” Maggie looked away for a moment, then looked back at Fury. “Rafe had to take off the bad leg. Just as well you were out of it, like. Best it’s gone now, it was workin’ on to killin’ ya if the cold didn’t get you first.”

“What … what do you mean ‘took it off’?” Fury tried to sit up but weakness and nausea prevented her from getting much further than halfway before she slipped back down.

“Amputated, it was gone bad, black with the gangrene. It’s a hard thing, I know, but when your own body tries to kill ya, there isn’t much else to be done, child.”

Fury closed her eyes and considered the implications. A cripple in this world doesn’t get far in life. The world was going back to the wild ways and those who couldn’t cope died young. Maggie stroked a hand across her forehead and wiped the tears that were tracing their paths down her cheeks.

“Aw, now. It ain’t as bad as all that. You got me an’ Rafe and Trina and the kids to look out for ya now. We ain’t the kind of folk who abandon those in need.” Maggie rose to her feet, gathering up the empty bowl. “You rest a bit. I’ll come back in a while to check on you. Rafe’s out huntin’ so we may have a nice bit of fresh venison for supper.”

Smiling, she left the room. Fury had just enough time to wonder what Maggie had put in the broth before she slipped into unconsciousness.



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