Everyone else follows suit. No one talks the entire way. Not even the woods make a sound.
Sarah and the men arrive home to a cold and silent cottage. Everyone settles in, removing cloaks and stomping off snow.
Fergus gets a large fire going in the fireplace and lights a few candles around the room.
Sarah sits at the table.
Boris brings a plate of supplies to the table. Sitting down, he takes her left arm. Cutting away the bloody portion of her sleeve, he turns her bruised and bloody wrist back and forth. Grunting, he takes a rag, dipping it in a bowl of water. Wringing it out, he pats the blood away from her wounds.
The cuts sting. Sarah winces, drawing back, but glances at Boris’ raised eyebrows and stops.
Boris continues. Once the blood is gone, he takes a paste, similar to the one
