Free Tranquil Fury by P.G. Thomas

plant, inspect it, and in some cases, talk to it.
    * * * * * * *
    Logan had no idea what time it was when he finally woke up. He looked up to the tarp that still stretched overhead, saw the two stone benches at his sides, and it was then that he remembered falling off, onto his back. As he sat upright, an intense burning sensation in his arms slammed into his brain, making him wince in pain. He examined his forearms, and found a large tattoo of a red feather on the right arm, and a similar blue feather tattoo on his left. When he rubbed one of the tattoos against the flow of the feathers, the little segments would separate, and when he rubbed the feather upright, the segments would marry back together. As he sat looking at the strange sight on his skin, they slowly began to fade, and then disappeared completely, leaving no trace that they had ever existed.
    After a short period, Logan raised himself from between the two stone benches, making sure not to touch either one, and stumbled back down the path. A number of times as he was looking for the game trail back to the camp, he examined his arms, must have dreamed it . Eventually he found his way, stumbling into the camp around lunchtime.
    Eric had prepared a simple meal of buns and fruits, “Where have you been?”
     “I was looking for Lauren. Where is John?”
    Eric replied, “He is watching the road. Did you find her?”
     “No.” Logan went over to his blankets, pulled them over his head, and fell into a deep sleep.
    * * * * * * *
    It was late into the night when Lauren began to think about Ryan and Zack. She reached for her entwined staff and leaf pouch, pulling out one of the collected berries. When she crushed it on the head of her staff, the juices flowed down, and a soft blue light came forth. She then headed in the direction of the boys’ camp, where she found John, Logan, and Eric sound asleep. She knelt beside Ryan and felt his forehead, fever, pulled a berry from her pouch, squeezing it hard so that the drops of liquid fell onto his tongue. Lauren pulled back Ryan’s clothing, was shocked by all of the scars she saw, as when John was stitching him up, she did not get a good look, as there was too much blood and confusion. She knew about the extensive surgeries, but she could not believe all of the scars, as every part of his body had one. Maybe that is justice enough . John had cut most of the fabric to expose the injuries on his legs, so that he could stitch up the wounds, and while he had done a good job, an infection had set in. Ryan had large cuts on his legs from the metal debris, the infection was causing pressure to build, as the areas around the stitches were extremely red, and she could see signs of blood poisoning setting in. If he was lucky, he had a few days left to live. Lauren squeezed the cuts on the legs, sending white pus erupting like some sort of human volcano, continued to squeeze, until the wounds released fresh blood cascading like lava. Ryan moaned in pain, passed out. Good, it will be better this way . As a watery red liquid began to seep from the tended wounds, she grabbed some pine cones from her leaf pouch, breaking them apart and removing their seeds. Then reached for the small pot from the chest, added some water, and put it on the smoldering embers of the fire. To this, she also added flowers, berries, leaves, tree bark, and once the brew had simmered, Lauren tasted it. She looked back at Ryan, so much damage , and then one by one, she cleaned each infected wound. John’s stitches held, and slowly you could see the skin color return to the injured areas. Lauren retrieved some dressings from Mirtza’s medicine bag, then pulled the pot off from the embers, and let it cool. She examined Ryan for any other wounds, and when she rolled him onto his side, he opened his eyes.
    Ryan, partially asleep, looked up, “Samantha, what is going on?”
    Lauren knew that she looked like her sister, but also knew he was delusional, burning