Chapter Five.........The Healer and The Wolf

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Rene started life as an orphan. Raised by a group of travelers, they roamed the south-west, finding and taking what they needed. As he grew, he became strong, resourceful, resilient and, with the naivety of youth, reckless. He learned how to fight, not by any rules, but fight to survive. Kill or be killed. When out scavenging alone in his twenties he learned, for the first time, about fear and how to conquer it. A pack of wild dogs cornered him, and the lead dog threatened him. While the rest of the pack hung back, the pair faced each other, neither willing to give ground. The lead dog growled and snarled, baring its teeth. Rene stood his ground but, for the first time in his life, felt fear. He resisted the urge to turn and run. He could have climbed the rubble behind him, but he didn’t. He smothered his fear with inner rage, stood firm and stared the dog down. In a slow movement and without taking his eyes off the animal, he pulled his knife from the back of his belt and waited. Wild dogs were predictable, their one goal was food and, to a wild animal, Rene was a sizeable feast. The other dogs were becoming restless. They began to snarl, goading their leader into action. Taking his cue, the lead dog leapt at Rene, going for his neck. With calmness he would not have believed a moment ago, Rene extended his left arm, grabbed the dog by its throat and lifted it straight up. He was momentarily surprised at how little the animal weighed, but then he plunged his knife into its rib cage and threw the corpse to the ground. At the same time, he growled the most menacing sound he could muster, while the other dogs fell quiet and cowered. Then he calmly turned and walked away, as the pack slowly ventured forward to feed upon their fallen comrade.
For a scavenger, he was an intelligent man. He could read. When he was a child, a woman in the group had some old books and taught him to read. In time he proved his worth to the group and eventually became their leader. The pickings in the area became fewer and soon, the time came to think about moving on. Over the years they had avoided the big city, the smaller towns yielding what they needed. The countryside was their larder. Rabbits were plentiful, they had a few chickens to provide eggs and three goats for milk. Guarding this group was always a problem though. Packs of dogs were always sniffing around. They never stayed in one place long enough to build suitable enclosures. What they needed was a permanent base, and Rene thought the big city may provide this. Meat would be scarcer, but with a solid base to work from, they could forage further afield for that. So, his mind made up, the group made their way towards the big city. When they arrived, the devastation surprised even Rene. Whole areas had been reduced to rubble. The river was only a brook, meandering its way east, widening to a vast, mud-filled chasm through the heart of the city. Now, sitting alone in his room, he toyed with his knife and thought about Juliet.

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The healer irritated Rene. As a man, he wanted her, but as a leader, he knew he needed her. At their first meeting, seated around that campfire, he knew it then. She was not like the other women in the group. She didn’t lower her head. Juliet looked him directly in the eyes and told him what she wanted. She would join the group, but on her terms. She would heal the sick and injured, deliver any newborns, and school the children. What she would not do, however, would be anybody’s woman, including his. The loss of her family was still too raw. If that didn’t suit him she had said, then he may as well kill her now because she would never help him otherwise. In the flickering glow of that campfire, he weighed up the needs and wants of both himself and the group, and agreed. That had been nearly two years ago, and the pair had stuck to their ‘bargain’.
Juliet had learnt her craft well. When she had shown an aptitude for medicine, old Sam, the previous medic at the settlement, had taken her under his wing and taught her all he knew. She proved to be a quick learner and Sam had no problem recommending her as his successor when he retired. When she arrived at the Anvil, she asked for a patch of ground to plant her precious seeds and grow herbs, so she could make medicines to heal the sick. The whole infield of the arena had been given over to growing fruit and vegetables for food. She asked for potatoes, and from these, she fermented and then distilled raw alcohol for cleansing wounds and sterilizing. She cleared out and cleaned two rooms, salvaged wood and metal to make rudimentary furniture, a table to work at and cupboards to store her distillations and pastes. In one room she made herself a bed. A simple slatted wooden frame topped with a palliasse made from old canvas. There were indeed injuries, pregnancies, and children to look after. When she wasn’t healing, she taught the children and tended her herb garden. Now, like Rene, she brooded over her situation. Lying on her cot, clutching a small, thin wooden box to her chest, she knew she had to get away. The box was the last thing Sam gave to her before he died. It contained a scalpel, a relic of the past. It also contained a small sharpening stone, two spare blades wrapped in oil paper, and a folded piece of paper with a list of names. Juliet lay on her side, staring at the length of wood propped against the inside of the door. She knew it would only be a matter of time before the Wolf’s impatience got the better of him. He would come for her and either he would have her or she would kill him.

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The wood scraping on the floor woke her from a deep sleep. The moonlight through the window shone on the baulk of timber holding the door closed. Juliet was awake in an instant. She swung one leg off her cot just as the door burst open. Two of Rene’s men staggered into the room. Lowering her other leg to the floor, she pulled her blanket over herself and gripped it to her chest with one hand. Her other hand groped feverishly under the blanket. She braced herself and said.
“What do you want? Get out!”
The first man laughed. “Guess.” His slurred speech told her they were drunk. Juliet stood and backed herself slowly into the corner of the room, trying to narrow the angle of attack. She also realized that this gave her less room to maneuver, but she had no choice. She could not hope to get past the pair and reach the door. Her initial fear ebbed away and a quiet calm settled over her. Neither man took any notice of the small wooden box that dropped from her blanket to the floor behind her.
“Rene won’t like this,” she said.
The second man laughed from the doorway and slowly moved to join his friend. “I don’t think he much cares about you anymore,” and he laughed again.
The first man was close now, so close Juliet could smell the spirit on his breath. She turned her head to the side hoping to draw him in a little closer then, as he grabbed her blanket and pulled it away, her free hand came up and around, the scalpel slicing into his neck. The next few seconds for Juliet seemed to pass in slow motion. The man gave a small yelp and stepped back and, as his hand went up to his neck, time seemed to speed up and Juliet was showered with blood. She stood frozen against the wall as the man's blood gushed over her, watching as he slumped slowly to the floor. As the man hit the floor Juliet turned and grinned at the second man. The sight of her smiling face, dripping with blood, caused him to turn and stumble back through the door.

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There was no Hippocratic Oath. Juliet was beholden to no-one but herself. Her sense of preservation gave her the strength and courage to do what she must to survive, and yet the shakes started. Her arms and legs trembled and shook, born of fear and then shock. The stench of blood fueled the guilt at having taken a life instead of saving one, and she shook even more. She sat down on her cot and then rolled onto her side, curled up like a frightened child. The shakes worked their way up to her throat and soon became sobs. The killing of the old man had been an accident. She hadn’t meant to kill him and she had fled the scene before she had the time to think about it. This was different, this was premeditated. She had been prepared to protect herself come what may. As the sobs died down she found herself mildly surprised that this hadn’t happened earlier. Perhaps they were right, maybe Rene didn’t care enough anymore to protect her. What if? She sat upright. What if this was now open season on her? The shakes vanished. She took a deep breath and resolved to leave this place!

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Juliet sat on the edge of her bed and tried to ease her brain into gear. The other Wolf had seen it. He would raise the alarm! She looked towards the doorway. Why was it so quiet? It seemed like hours had passed. Why hadn’t he alerted the others? She stood up and slowly went to the door. Peering out, she saw the body of the second man sprawled on the pathway leading into the garden area. It looked like he had tripped over his own feet and knocked himself unconscious.
“Are you okay, Juliet?”
The soft voice startled her and she spun round to see old Jonesy standing in the shadows. The old man glanced from her to the body on the floor and back again.
“Yes, I’m ……….” The shakes returned and she felt her throat tighten and her eyes began to fill. “No, I’m not!” Then, as the tears began to fall, she sobbed, “I need help Jonesy.”