Fyn blocked her with his body. “We’ll see to her.”
“No you won’t—MOVE!” Wolf bellowed as he approached them, fury in his eyes.
Fyn looked to Raven.
“This isn’t her choice and don’t make me tell you again to move,” Wolf warned, the commanding timbre in his voice enough to make any sane person obey.
“Do as he says, Fyn,” Raven said, before it escalated into an unreasonable situation.
Wolf’s fiery glare turned to complete rage when he saw the arrow that protruded from his wife’s arm and the blood that soaked her shirtsleeve.
“I should go for Wren,” Clive said, stepping forward.
Wolf looked to Greta.
“She is a far more experienced healer than I am,” Greta said, “but it will take her time to get here and the arrow shouldn’t wait that long to be removed.”
“Go and fetch the woman but take George with you,” Wolf ordered with a nod to Clive, then looked to Gorm, who stood not far from his right. “Send six warriors with them.”
Clive went to protest but the flair in Wolf’s dark eyes warned him against it. He gave a nod and he and George followed after Gorm.
Fyn moved from Raven’s side to step behind her as soon as Wolf stepped toward her.
Wolf lowered himself to rest on his haunches in front of her. “You will keep your eyes on me and tell me what happened as Fyn helps Greta remove the arrow from your arm.”
“I don’t need to be distracted from the pain,” she argued.
“Believe me, wife, you do,” he said and reached out and took her hand.
Raven glanced down at his hand wrapped tightly around hers, its strength strangely comforting. She looked up at him ready to tell him she didn’t need his help, and yet there was something about the way he held her hand, that to her surprise, she favored.
“Don’t waste your breath. I’m not letting go,” Wolf warned.
It struck her odd that he was staying with her. He didn’t have to. He could have gone off to search for the culprit, and leave her alone to deal with her wound, but he hadn’t. He stayed. He didn’t leave her to face this alone. His thought was of her and that puzzled Raven.
“I need to get some clean cloths, then you’ll need to break the end of the arrow off so that you can pull it out,” Greta said to Fyn. “If you could tear away her sleeve while I fetch what I need, that would help.”
Fyn nodded and saw to the task.
Wolf was pleased that Fyn was gentle in ridding Raven of the bloody sleeve, while he kept her occupied with talk. “I spoke briefly with Iver and Brod, both impatient to chase the culprit that wounded you. The only thing they could tell me was that a dark cloaked figure shot at you when you were in the open space between the keep and the village.”
Raven nodded, still baffled by his actions. She didn’t know if his talk would distract from the physical pain she was about to suffer. However, she had found physical pain easier to bear than pain that touched the heart. A wound healed sooner or later. A pain to the heart never truly healed. It lingered and would open unexpectedly and you would suffer the hurt all over again.
She would suffer the pain of the arrow and be done with it. It was the pain Wolf had caused her family and scarred her heart that had yet and perhaps never would heal. And yet she found herself confused by him. He treated her well enough and had eventually helped her clan. What enemy does that?
It concerned Wolf that she was so quiet, not saying something to annoy him. It meant that she was in more pain than she would say. So he said something he knew would annoy her.
“I will make sure one of my warriors remains with you at all times from now on,” he ordered.
“You will not,” Raven snapped. “I need no one following me about.”
“Why? Are you up to something I don’t know about?” Wolf challenged.
“With a husband that ignores me, I need to find something to do around here,” she quipped.
Her tongue was quick and her barbs could sting more often than not and Wolf felt that one, but he tossed it back at her. “I will make sure to spend more time with you.”
“Oh, joy!” she said and rolled her eyes.
Greta returned and placed a basket of clean cloths on a small bench she had Fyn fetch for her.
“It would be wise to hold her still,” Greta said to Wolf.
He surprised Raven when he lifted her gently in his arms and sat on the bench, his one arm remaining around her waist to hold her tight against him and his other hand latching onto the forearm of her wounded arm in a firm grip, keeping it from moving.