Entering the bathing chamber, William retrieved a solar crème from the cabinet and turned, expecting to find his pet there. She was, glaring at him balefully.
“Sit down,” he said. “This takes a few minutes to work. It smells bad too, and you'll feel some tingling, but it will heal that burn in five minutes.”
“I hate you.”
“Give me your arm.”
He ignored her hate, her anger, her fear. None of those impulses would be rewarded with attention. When she failed to extend the limb, he took her by the hand and began slathering the crème over her skin. The effect was fairly instantaneous. He felt her relax as the pain abated. She was still angry and afraid; those emotions could not be soothed with salve, or any other topical treatment. Only time would make those abate.
It had not escaped his attention that she was slightly under the weather. There was a flush to her skin which could not be entirely attributed to anger, but it would be difficult to take her temperature, given that she'd probably bite the thermometer. He could try the other end of her body he supposed, but she would not much like that either.
“How long have you been sick?”
“I'm not sick.”
“You're sick or scared. Probably both.”
“I'm not scared of you.” She snarled the words with an intensity which would have been scary if it weren't coming out of a fever-soaked scrap of a woman. She had gone downhill quickly since being put in the crate, no doubt a result of the stress of being captured. One had to be careful with wildlings, as much as they needed firm handling, they also needed to be kept quiet for the first few weeks of their captivity. Too much stress and they could perhaps perish from the latent ailments that were part and parcel of living wild. Fortunately, fever was not all that dangerous in the city. It was common enough amongst hunter pets, especially when they were first bought in.
William had the necessary medication on hand, of course. The only problem was it tasted awful, and judging by the demeanor of his prize, she was unlikely to take it willingly.
“I'm going to give you something to bring the fever down. It won't taste good, but you'll feel better.”
“I would rather die than take anything from you,” she replied predictably.
William retrieved the bottle from the medicine cabinet and poured out a dose into a little clear vessel. “If you do die of this fever, you won't have the satisfaction of revenge now, will you?”
He held out the dose and was not at all surprised when she slapped it out of his hand. Reddish brown liquid fell to the floor and pooled on the tiles as he patiently poured out a second dose.
“This is your last chance to take it,” he explained. “If I have to do this a third time, I'll make you drink it.”
He extended the medicine to his captive. This time she slapped it toward him, spattering his clothing with the sticky mess.
“Right,” he said firmly. “I guess we'll be doing this the hard way.”
William poured a third dose and set it aside. Taking his naughty new pet by the waist, he drew her close to his body, her back against his stomach as he secured his grasp around her midsection, clamping her arms to her chest. The other hand then went to her nose, pinching it so she opened her mouth. The plan worked that far, but he soon realized he was missing a third hand with which to actually dose her. Substituting speed for extra appendages, he let go of her body for a moment, grabbed the liquid and tossed it down her throat before she could fight away.
The result was less than perfect, but most of the medicine seemed to have been swallowed as she squirmed away from him, cursing up an archaic storm.
“You'll thank me when you feel better,” he said, ignoring her fury.
“You've poisoned me!”
“If I have, I went to an awful lot of trouble to do it,” William said mildly. “Now, bath time.”
She desperately needed a bath. Maybe she'd had a dip in one of the lakes now and then, but there was grime and body grease coating every inch of her skin. It was a natural protection against parasites, and a warning to predators, but it was entirely out of place in good society.
“Baths are for the weak!”
“Baths are for the clean,” William corrected. “You'll feel better afterward, I promise.”
“Your promises are lies!”
She was really into the rebellious swing of things. He could probably have suggested giving her freedom and she would have resisted simply on principle.
“Do you have a name?”
The question seemed to take her off guard. She put her anger on hold for a moment and looked at him suspiciously.
“What would I need with a name,” she said bitterly. “I'm just your possession, aren't I?”