Tribal Relations

A/N - I am SO SORRY. I had an issue in R/L with my job that unfortunately had to take priority. Then I got caught up with reading (yea, I know, that's a bad excuse, but it's the truth)

Btw, I am not a doctor or any member of the medical profession. If I'm drastically off on something in this chapter, please let me know. The lovely part of posting on these sites is that things can always be changed.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!
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Chapter 5

The next morning when he woke up Grael was feverish and barely conscious. Keil forced down the panic he felt when he saw Grael's state and tried to stay calm. He had dealt with this before – sort of. He'd seen the women of his tribe take care of injuries, although he hadn't paid too much attention. The first thing he had to do was get water - he knew that he at least needed to keep the wound clean. That was easy enough. Keil ran down to the river, filled the pails, and headed back as quickly as he could within spilling everything.

Once he was back in the hut, he soaked the edge of one of Grael's loincloths and concentrated on cleaning the red and angry looking wound without causing the older man too much pain. It was easier said than done. Grael wasn't awake, but he was moaning and twitching as Keil ran the cloth over the vicious looking gash. Greenish-white pus oozed around the poorly done stitches, and every time he cleaned some away, more came out.

It took a few runs down to the river and back to make any difference. The swelling had gone down slightly, and Grael seemed to be in less pain, or at least asleep. Keil cleaned up the mess he had made, and went back down to the river. All of the cloth in the hut was splotched with blood and pus, and he wanted everything clean, as he had a suspicion that the morning's cleaning would have to be repeated again. Even if the wound looked better, it was still swollen and not even close to starting to heal. There were probably herbs to help with the healing, but since he didn't know what they were – and wouldn't be able to recognize them even if he did he'd have to hope this would be enough.

After everything was clean, he realized that he would have to be in charge of food. He set up some traps in the clearing where he kept his in progress bow, not particularly wanting to get too far away from the hut while Grael was still so ill. Hopefully that would be enough for a few days. After that, he'd think about going out into the woods and actually hunting if he had to. Grael hadn't mentioned what the punishment in the tribe was for a woman to be found out of her hut, and he didn't particularly want to find out the hard way. Hopefully once the hunter regained consciousness, he could find out and they could decide whether it was worth the risk.

For now, he headed back to the hut with a pail of water. He tried to get some of it down the older man's throat, a fairly difficult task, and then put the rest over the fire. Taking a few of the bones left over from Grael's last hunt, he put them in the boiling water to try and make a weak stew. There was still a decent amount of vegetables remaining, so he chopped up and threw some of those in as well. Once it was done, or at least once Keil figured it was as good as it was going to get, he took the pot off the fire and started the long and frustrating process of trying to get the liquid down Grael's throat. The water had been easier; if some had missed, it didn't matter. The stew, for as watery as it was, still wasn't actually water, and it was also hot. It was also thicker, and Keil was worried for the first few mouthfuls that he'd cause the hunter to choke. Luckily, keeping him propped up against Keil's chest worked, and he managed to get most of the stew down his throat, and very little on them.

The bandages were starting to look fairly soaked through again, so once Keil had eaten some of the remains of the stew for his own dinner, and gotten fresh water, he repeated the process of that morning of cleaning out the wound. Keil felt nauseous when he uncovered the hunter's leg and saw the ugly colours the wound had turned. Pushing his own discomfort out of his mind, he concentrated on cleaning out the wound. Keil had at first thought that there would have been less to clean out, but if anything, it seemed like there was more pus being pushed out as he cleaned the dried blood away.

Once he was done, he went back to the river to clean everything. It was already dark, and he was stunned by how quickly the day had gone. After having weeks of very little activity, the fact that he had to work non-stop all day was a strange and very welcome change. It was just a shame that it was for such a bad reason.

Keil checked the traps on his way back to the hut, and as he had feared but more or less expected, they were empty. Hopefully he'd catch something overnight – and not have it eaten by another predator. Since there wasn't anything else, and the stew he had earlier hadn't been nearly enough to fill him up, he ate some of the remaining vegetables, trying to eat as little as possible, in case Grael was still ill and Keil needed to make stew again for him the next day.

After he had finished eating, Keil was faced with the decision of where to sleep. He wasn't sure if it would be better or worse for him to sleep in the same furs as Grael; but in the end decided that at least if he was lying next to the other man there'd be a chance that he'd be woken up if the hunter took a turn for the worse. With a sigh, Keil curled up next to, but not quite touching, the older man, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
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Keil woke up the following morning half draped over the hunter. He wasn't sure when, during the night, he had shifted, but the first thing his conscious mind realized was that the hunter was still hot to the touch. A few tentative shakes had determined that Grael wasn't much better than the previous day either. Grael had groaned weakly, and his eyes had fluttered open for a brief moment, but Keil figured if he was still feeling that poorly it would be better for him to stay asleep, and let off trying to get him to wake up. Groaning, Keil got up and grabbed the pail to get some water to start cleaning the wound again. He stopped and checked his traps again on the way back; one had caught something, but there was only a bit of blood and fur remaining of whatever creature he had managed to catch. With a frustrated growl, he reset it, and hoped that he'd have better luck at some point during the day. Even if his bow had been finished, there wasn't any time to hunt while taking care of Grael, as he had found out the hard way the previous day.

The wound looked slightly better – or at least Keil thought it did. It might have just been wishful thinking, but he thought that it seemed to take fewer trips to clean it out completely. On his second to last trip, he had found a rabbit caught in his traps as well, so that put him in a considerably better mood. At least he'd be able to make a better meal for himself, and the stew for Grael would be less like flavoured water. The first thing he did when he got back was make the stew for Grael, using the last of the vegetables, and set the rest of the rabbit to cook for himself while he fed the hunter.

After another fight to get the stew down Grael's throat, he once again set about cleaning up the wound. At least, without having to set all of the traps, it wasn't quite so late when he was finished, so he was able to travel back and forth to the river while the sun was still up. The down side was that his last couple of trips there were some of the other women from the tribe, and they were staring at him strangely as he cleaned up the bloody rags. One of the younger girls made an abortive move to help him, but at a sharp word from one of her elders, she stopped and went back to the group. A few even gave him a scornful or even hateful glances, and he was depressed but not surprised to see that the women apparently shared the men's low opinion of Grael. It was a shame, because he would have risked talking to him to try and make sure the hunter got better. Unfortunately, it was clear there would be no help coming from that quarter either.

At least, when he finished cleaning the wound he was able to get a small smile out of the older man. With any luck, that meant Grael was slowly getting better. Keil ate his own meal, put out the fire, and settled down next to Grael, hoping that the next morning would see the hunter at least semi-conscious.
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The next couple of days followed the same pattern, but to Keil's relief, the wound was getting better. It was slow progress, but each time when he cleaned the wound, there was less pus and the skin around the stitches looked less red and puffy. The fourth day, his fever had seemed to lessen as well. He continued cleaning the wound, however, as carefully as the first day, so that Grael wouldn't get worse again. There was a limit to what his minor knowledge could do, and if the hunter took a turn for the worse, Keil was fairly positive he wouldn't be able to save him. Still, he went to sleep that night feeling considerably more hopeful than since before Grael had been injured.

Unfortunately, when he woke up on the fifth day, Grael was burning up. It seemed that the fever had come back even worse. The wound, thankfully, was still looking better, but it wouldn't matter if he was lost to fever. Keil was in a panic, and spent most of the day sitting in the hut trying desperately to get Grael's fever down, or running to the river for more water to rinse him off with. It seemed that each time he rinsed the sweat off his overheated body it was back by the time he had finished. By the end of the day, he was exhausted from the frantic trips back and forth to get more water to cool him down. He managed to get some water into him, but Keil didn't bother with the traps or making either of them dinner.

Grael's fever didn't break until late in the night, and for a second Keil thought the older man had actually died. When he realized the hunter had simply slipped into a normal sleep, he let himself finally collapse.
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Keil woke the next morning curled up with Grael as they had before the man had been injured. He realized that this meant Grael had to have regained consciousness and moved – however slight – at some point during the night. The realization gave Keil some measure of relief; so long as Grael didn't relapse. Keil carefully extricated himself from the sleeping man, trying not to wake him. Even if the fever had finally broken, he still needed to get water to clean it.

It was on his way back to the hut, mind finally calm after days of worry and outright panic, that he realized that he could have left at any point the last few days. Well, no, that wasn't right. He couldn't have, in good conscious, left Grael to die like that. But now...there was no reason he couldn't go back to the hut, take Grael's knife and bow, and be gone from here.

He sat down in the clearing where he had spent so much time working on his means of escape, and forced himself to stop lying to himself. It wasn't just that he enjoyed the guilty pleasure of submitting to the other man; he was quite sure that if any of his own tribesmen had tried that he would have fought until the very end. That also wasn't a valid reason for the care he had shown the hunter the last few days. His first instinct had been to help him, without any regard to his own health. If he had thought it would do any good, he would have easily risked exposure to get him the help he needed from one of the women of the tribe or the healer. The only reason it hadn't was that he knew it wouldn't have done any good, and if he had been found out, he'd be dead, and Grael wouldn't have been far behind him.

The fear he had felt that last night, when he was so convinced each laboured breath was going to be Grael's last, was also nothing he had felt before. He hadn't felt like that when he found out his mother had died (although really, since he had barely talked to her, that wasn't a surprise) and he only felt worried when his brother went out fighting, but even that wasn't fear like he had felt with Grael. Of course, that could partially be because Crele was fighting other men, and Keil knew he was a fierce warrior; while Grael was suffering with a fever, and no amount of skill could help him.

Would Keil still leave? Yes, the answer to that question still hadn't changed. He may not particularly like the idea of leaving Grael, but being able to hunt, to stalk through the woods, and to be able to wear proper clothing again was too important. There was also the fact that they both lived in fear of Keil's secret being discovered like this. It would be better for both of them if Keil left as soon as Grael was better. Keil would also be able to pretend that Grael didn't want him to leave because he cared for him the same way...

Oh, shit.
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When Keil finally got back to the hut, Grael was up and slowly staggering around.

"What are you doing? Sit down!" Keil nearly dropped the water in his rush to get Grael off his injured leg. The hunter stopped and stared at him in mild shock.

"You're still here."

Not able to meet his gaze, Keil just nodded.

"I thought when I woke up and you weren't here..."

Keil sighed. "I thought about it. But...you'll need help still, right? I mean, you can barely walk, there no way you'd be able to hunt like this."

"Once I'm better I won't let you leave."

If Keil had been expecting freedom as a reward for the care he had given Grael, he'd have been sorely disappointed. But he understood the hunter's reasons for keeping him here, so he wasn't surprised. Besides, it didn't change his plans. "I know."

The hunter gazed at him, clearly confused. Keil decided to try and explain, even if most of it made little logical sense. He certainly wasn't going to explain his last rather startling revelation. "Even if I'm not happy about the situation, you did help me; I couldn't leave you on your own. I still want to leave, but not at the cost of your life."

Grael smiled the soft, sweet smile that Keil had come to enjoy seeing over the last couple of months. "Thank you, then."

Keil nodded then frowned at the still-standing man. "Now sit."

Grael chuckled, but obeyed. He checked the wound, and it was still healing; the swelling was nearly gone, even if the skin was still red. At least the fear of losing the entire leg was gone.

"You did a good job."

Keil shrugged. "Not really, I just imitated what I'd seen some of the women in my tribe do. You're lucky that women aren't restricted to the huts in my tribe, or I'd have been completely clueless."

The hunter waved off Keil's modest explanation. "Still, I have my leg, and my importantly, I'm alive, so I think that counts as a good job. Have you been hunting?"

"No, I set up traps. I was going to try hunting, even if it was risky, but I didn't want to go too far from the hut with the way you were. It hasn't brought in much, but I think we can both live on what I can catch until you're better."

Grael nodded. "Good, that makes me feel a bit better. So, what's for dinner? Please tell me it's not stew."

Keil laughed then shook his head. "NO. Definitely not stew."
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A few more weeks passed. Grael's leg healed up slowly, and during that time, they had to make do with the small game he was able to catch in the traps he set. Keil didn't mind that much, but he could tell the hunter was frustrated by his inability to hunt properly. He could sympathize, as it had been months since he had gone into the woods farther than to the river.

The bow was coming along nicely; he had a decent amount of arrows, and as soon as he had the string, it would be ready. He was still unwilling to leave until Grael was better though; the thought of leaving the injured hunter alone bothered him for reasons he was not going to explore. Keil had said it was basic kindness – Grael had saved his life, the least he could do was help him out until he was back on his feet. It's not like his tribe was going anywhere or his failure would be any less regardless of when he returned. At this point, however, the hunter would be able to at least take over setting and checking the traps in the clearing; Keil wasn't strictly needed any more, but he still found himself reluctant to leave.

Keil was standing at the door looking out towards the woods when he heard and felt Grael come up behind him.

"You miss it."

"Wouldn't you?" He had been saying that for months, after all.

He heard Grael sigh, and move away. "Leave."

Keil could barely believe what he had heard, and turned to look at the hunter. "What? You mean...?"

Nodding, the man waved towards the woods. "Go home. I'll think of some reason to give the tribe when they ask me about it. I can survive more scorn; you are wasting away in here. Besides, you're starting to fill out, even without hunting. It would be obvious to even the stupidest of the other men that you weren't a female in a year or so. If you were found out it would be bad for both of us."

He smiled; while he had been planning on leaving anyway, it made him a little less guilty to have Grael's blessing. "Soon enough – I won't leave you while you're still injured. I've been here for months, a week or so more won't hurt."

Surprise flitted over his face, but he smiled. It was so rare to get a smile on the man's face that Keil couldn't help smiling back.