Morning — Workshop
Raven continued to work on his coffee table, and was now well underway making the legs, from large blocks of wood. Marta had shown him on the first leg, how to chisel out and make the holes for the mortise joints — and then left him to it. Marta was not one to hover; she was available if needed. The second and third leg had gone well and he was feeling confident. With a steady tap of the mallet, the pile of wood shavings on the bench grew, filling the workshop with the scent of freshly cut wood. The workshop was the place where he felt happy and most himself.
Raven was carefully chiselling out the last mortise joint on the fourth leg. A large chunk of wood was still stuck stubbornly in the bottom of the joint and he put his fingers down to try and free it, using the chisel with his other hand to try and pry it out. Without warning the chunk of wood came free, the chisel slipped, and it sliced cleanly across the palm of his hand.
Raven: Ow! Shit!
Then he looked down at his hand, blood beginning to run freely from the fresh wound. Suddenly he was not feeling so good.
Oh. Shit.
Samson was passing by the workshop door on the way back from the other workshop by the waterwheel. Raven managed to shout out to him.
Raven: Hey, Samson! I need help!
When Samson entered the workshop, the problem was abundantly clear. He immediately pulled off his T-shirt and placed it firmly on Raven’s bleeding hand. Raven’s face had also drained of all colour and small beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.
Samson: Hold that and press hard, we need to get you over to Rebecca.
Samson wound his T-shirt around Raven’s hand and got him to press hard with his other hand.
Raven: Whoa, I don’t feel so good.
Samson: It’s OK, mate, we got you, sit down here for a minute.
He pulled up a chair and got Raven to sit down for a few minutes, all the while making sure that firm pressure was still being applied to the makeshift bandage.
Samson: If I help you, do you think you can walk back to the house?
Raven: Yeah, I think so, I’m feeling a bit better now, bit of a head rush for a moment there. Oh — and yeah, now it’s starting to hurt. Whoa. Oh yeah — Yup.
Samson helped Raven to stand and they walked together back to the house and over to the kitchen door. He kicked the door open and yelled out for Rebecca.
Samson: Rebecca! Raven has hurt his hand — we need you real quick!
Rebecca appeared with floury paws wiping them on a cloth; she had been busy mixing the latest batch of bread dough.
Rebecca: Hello, boys, what seems to be the…
Rebecca’s voice trailed off as soon as she saw Raven holding his hand, and the blood-soaked T-shirt.
Rebecca: Right. Bring him over to the table, and sit him down. Let’s take a look at what we’ve got.
Again, Samson guided a very wobbly Raven to a chair and sat him down before his legs gave out. Raven’s colour had returned a little but he still looked very pale and shaky. Rebecca already had the first aid supplies out on the table and was getting things ready. With all the commotion, Charlie had also appeared and after taking one look at Raven’s hand and then back to Rebecca, a question crossed his face on what he could do to help.
Rebecca: Charlie, I need some clean towels, and a bowl of warm water.
Given something useful to do, he responded straight away.
Charlie: I’m on it!
Carefully Rebecca eased back the soaked T-shirt to inspect the wound. Fortunately, there did not seem to be anything major injured, and the bleeding had slowed down considerably. Charlie reappeared with a bowl of warm water and clean towels.
Rebecca: OK, let’s take a look at the damage.
Right, we get your hand cleaned up and then I’ll need to put in a couple of stitches.
Raven: Stit… stitches? With… a needle? Have you done that before?
Rebecca: Absolutely. I’ve looked after engineers. They are always doing something to themselves…
She tilted her head at Samson, who was still hovering anxiously nearby, hands covered in Raven’s blood; she gave him a friendly wink.
…or bringing someone else in that needs patching up. Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse.
Samson, the sink is over there to wash your hands.
Rebecca then set to cleaning the wound before injecting some local anaesthetic. Raven went paler still at the sight of the needle. Samson, returning with clean hands, pulled up a chair and took on the job of distractor-in-chief.
Samson: That table top is looking amazing, Raven! Once you have sanded and polished it, it’s gonna look fantastic!
Raven: Yeah, it does look amazing… ouch!
Rebecca had just touched a tender spot and Raven winced.
Samson: Hey. Try and keep still. It’ll only hurt worse if you wiggle.
Raven: Thanks, Samson, you’re a real pal.
Samson: That’s what I do, bud. I’m right here for ya.
He looked at the blood-soaked T-shirt and grinned.
— And, that’s my favourite T-shirt by the way.
Raven smiled weakly, acknowledging his friend’s selfless sacrifice.
News of Raven’s mishap had quickly spread and a small crowd was beginning to hover around the doorway of the kitchen, Seb among them. His eyes went to Raven’s face first, then the injured hand. Something stirred in his chest that he was quick to push straight back down. Raven caught his eye, giving the smallest nod. I’m okay.
By now, Rebecca had decided that an audience was not required for the stitching. She made shooing motions to the boys who had gathered.
Rebecca: All of you out!
She looked at Samson.
Samson, stay. Rest of you shoo!
Once the room cleared, Rebecca began the careful task of inserting the stitches, one by one.
She worked quietly, stitching, cleaning again and dressing Raven’s hand properly.
Raven, now calm enough, was content to watch her work, his other hand resting flat on the table with nothing to do. Forced stillness was not in Raven’s nature. Nothing to make, nothing to reach for, just to sit quiet and still, allowing Rebecca’s careful paws to attend to his injured hand.
Charlie appeared with two mugs of hot chocolate — with marshmallow and sprinkles. He gave one to Samson and the other to Raven.
Charlie: Here. This is the best medicine for both the wounded and the emotional support friend. Six heaped teaspoons of powder. Don’t tell Rebecca.
Rebecca just tilted her head at him and said nothing.
Oh, and Samson, I got you a clean T-shirt.
Charlie, who also had a clean T-shirt tucked under his arm, left it for Samson. He then diplomatically disappeared again into the scullery.
Rebecca finished bandaging Raven’s hand and secured the last piece of tape.
Rebecca: There, good as new. Almost.
How are you going in there?
Rebecca very gently extended her paw to Raven’s chest. Raven was very still and quiet for quite some time. He didn’t answer immediately and Rebecca did not rush him.
Raven: I… um… it just happened so fast. I had done the other legs just fine, and then, the chisel, it just slipped.
Silent tears made their way down his cheek, and he quickly brushed them away with his good hand.
Raven: Headwall… you… everyone… the last year… have all been so amazing since we got here.
He paused, and brushed away another tear.
It’s nothing like we had to live like… you know, like, before.
Rebecca: You are here, and you are our family now. You are safe and we are going to keep looking after you, and all your friends — your good friends like Samson here. We all care about you very much.
Samson nodded in agreement.
Samson: Yeah, mate. What Rebecca just said.
Afternoon — Verandah
Raven was sitting quietly outside, his bandaged hand elevated, resting on a pillow; the valley bathed in the late summer light.
Jake appeared and sat down next to him, a mug of hot tea steaming in his paw.
Grandpa Jake: How’s the hand?
Raven: It’s OK, it throbs a bit. Rebecca gave me some pain pills.
Grandpa Jake nodded slowly and took a sip of his tea. Raven managed a weak smile.
Raven: The table legs are gonna need to wait a few days.
Grandpa Jake: It’s going to be a fine table when it’s finished.
Grandpa Jake tilted his head and gave a little huff.
I’ve peeked.
Evening – Dinner
That evening at dinner Hamish came and sat quietly next to Raven. He tapped his paw gently on Raven’s arm.
Hamish: I’m sorry your hand got hurt.
Can I cut your food up for you? I can do that now — I’m six!
Raven looked down at Hamish and gave him an appreciative sideways hug, with his perfectly good hand.
Raven: Sure you can. Thanks little buddy.
Hamish: I can feed it to you too, if you want.
Raven: Yeah, why not? My hand is hurting a bit.
Hamish then very carefully and seriously fed Raven his whole dinner, one forkful at a time.
Screw Pile Developments 