A Girl Called Badger (Valley of the Sleeping Birds) Read Online Free PDF Page B

medicine,” said Simpson. “If Ensign Wilson wants you looked at, you get looked at.”
     
    AFTER A LONG HIKE through the rain they made it to the steps of the rectory. Wilson knocked and opened the outer door. As they walked through the passage the inner door clanked and hissed open.
    Father Reed rubbed his eyes and yawned. “My head just touched the pillow, and now this. Get ready, I’m turning on the lights.”
    Wilson and Badger covered their eyes. The tribal girl yelped and shaded hers as the entrance tunnel flashed into brilliant white.
    Father Reed looked over the three of them and sucked air through his teeth.
    “Come in, come in.”
    Wilson squinted through his fingers and followed his teacher into the brightly-lit medical room. He watched Reed press a few buttons at the side of the black examining table.
    “I’ve never seen such shaggy cubs,” he said. “Did you forget that singular characteristic of rain––it makes other things wet?”
    As his eyes adjusted to the light Wilson saw the state of his female companions. The young girl’s wet hair stuck flat to her face and head. Scratches covered her face and the left side had swollen with a purple and red bruise.
    Badger leaned against a wall, her face and braids smeared with mud and pine needles. The rain had soaked her leathers and washed away only a little of the red-black tribal blood that covered her jacket. She protected her left hand in a pocket and rested her right on a knife in her belt. Wilson was exhausted but her eyes were still quick and dark. She watched everything in the room: a display screen, the table, Father Reed, the palm of her right hand, the tribal girl’s boots, all the silver medical tools. She was either nervous as a hare or ready to fight. Maybe both. Wilson realized he had no idea what to tell her about the database and her sickness.
    “Ensign!” Reed shouted. “Are you dreaming again or do you have a concussion?”
    “No, sir! Neither, sir!”
    “Then allow me the pleasure of inquisitive repetition. What happened?”
    “We found a gang of tribals with this girl. Not a local group from the look of them. One of my bolts accidentally struck her arm. She has multiple contusions to the left face and minor lacerations. I didn’t have time for a complete assessment.”
    Reed waved a hand at the examining table. “Can the girl speak? Get her up here.”
    “Yes, I speak,” she said.
    The girl stretched out on the table. When Reed replaced the wet blankets with a dry one Wilson saw a pair of bruised and scratched legs.
    “What’s her name?” asked Reed as he adjusted the blanket.
    “Um ...”
    “Minamakitotosimew,” said the girl.
    Reed pursed his lips. “Riiight. I think we’ll call you Mina.”
    “It is fine, too.”
    The priest unwrapped the bloody bandage tied around the girl’s arm. “Wilson, make yourself useful as well as ornamental and get vital signs.”
    Wilson pulled wires from the side of the slab. He placed silver discs above both collarbones and wrapped a blue membrane around the girl’s right bicep.
    “Turn up the heat element also.”
    Wilson pressed a switch on the wall then passed a display to his teacher.
    Father Reed touched the screen. He moved and expanded boxes with his fingers. “She wasn’t born here so there’s a limited amount of data. Vital signs are good, but that’s obvious since she walked here. We’ll keep tracking them.” On the screen he passed over minor injuries and highlighted the arm impaled with the crossbow bolt. “Now, Mina––tell me where it hurts the most.”
    Wilson led Badger across the room to a white counter with two sinks. He searched through numbered white cabinets and found a large porcelain jug. He plugged the sinks and poured equal amounts of water into each.
    “What are you doing?”
    Wilson glanced at her. “Making clean water.”
    “But that water is clean.”
    Wilson slid open a drawer and selected a brown paper packet. “Not clean