Chapter 8
Ripplan
The pain struck with savage, blinding force.
I reached down and clamped my fingers directly behind the flared head of the diamondback.
The fangs were still embedded deep in my calf, pumping heat straight into my flesh.
With a sharp wrench, I tore the serpent free.
Blood immediately welled through the torn denim of my jeans, hot and thick.
The reptile writhed in my grip, six heavy feet of muscle coiling tightly around my forearm while its rattle buzzed like a furious hornet nest. I did not give it a chance for a second strike.
I tightened my grip and squeezed until the skull cracked beneath my fingers.
The muscular coils went limp, twitching only with dying reflex as I tossed the dead serpent into the dry grass.
A deep, throbbing fire radiated outward from the puncture wounds, clawing up through my calf and locking the joint of my knee. I ground my teeth together against the burn, forcing my breathing to stay level as I looked over at Tammy.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
She stood completely motionless on the path, the color drained from her face in the fading twilight. Her wide eyes were fixed on the dark blood soaking my pant leg.
"You jumped directly into its path," she whispered, her voice trembling before rising in sudden panic. "You took the strike for me."
"You were about to step squarely onto it," I told her, trying to keep my voice calm even as an ugly ache began chewing at my bones. "Did it graze you at all?"
"Did it graze me?" She looked at me as though I had lost my mind entirely. "Ripplan, you just took a full envenomation from a massive rattlesnake!"
"It is nothing I cannot handle," I said.
"You are not fine!" Her shout broke across the quiet evening air. "Help! Cookie! Xrylen! Get over here right now!"
Heavy boots pounded against the dirt trail. Cookie burst through the willow branches first, his broad face flushed red from sprinting, with Xrylen close on his heels carrying an emergency kit.
"What happened?" Xrylen demanded, dropping his gaze immediately to the dead serpent in the grass.
"Western diamondback," I answered. "It's dealt with."
Tammy stepped between us, her medical training taking over despite the tremor in her hands. "Dealt with my ass! Ripplan just got bit by this thing. It is over six feet long and fully grown. That snake carries enough hemotoxin to bring down an ox, and we need to treat him immediately."
"Orc constitution is different than human," I said, though my calf was already beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. "I do not need you fussing--."
"Your biology does not make you immune to necrosis and systemic organ failure," Tammy snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut leather. "You need antivenin right now. Help me get him to his tent."
"I can walk under my own power," I insisted.
"Like hell you will," Xrylen said, grabbing me firmly by my left elbow while Cookie moved under my right shoulder. "Up you go, brother."
I grumbled but deep down admitted I needed the help.
I'd managed to stay on my feet, but my leg felt about to buckle under a vicious spike of agony, forcing a low growl through my clenched teeth.
The poison felt like boiling acid spreading beneath my skin, attacking the muscle tissue with every beat of my heart.
"Just give me a second to find my footing," I grumbled.
"Save your breath and let us carry you," Xrylen muttered.
Between the two of them, they dragged me across the clearing and guided me through the canvas flaps of my tent.
By the time they eased me down onto my bedroll, sweat was dripping from my temples and the edges of my vision had started to blur with gray static.
I stretched my leg out, grimacing as the denim pulled tight against the swelling flesh.
"It looks worse than it feels," I lied, leaning back against my rolled canvas pack.
Xrylen gave me a dry, unimpressed look. "You are a terrible liar, Ripplan."
Tammy ducked through the tent opening, breathing hard.
She knelt beside my leg, her fingers cool and steady as she made a slit in my pant's leg and moved the fabric aside to inspect the punctures.
Even through the haze of pain, her distinct scent washed over me, sweet vanilla and warm cinnamon laced with the sharp bite of pure adrenaline.
"The tissue is already swelling," she murmured, her brow furrowing with intense focus. "The skin around the fang marks is turning purple."
"It will pass," I said.
She lifted her head, her deep blue eyes blazing with a fierce, frightened intensity that hit me squarely in the chest. "You don't know that, so stop acting like this is a mosquito bite."
She turned on her heel and dashed back out toward the chuck wagon, shouting instructions to Cookie about sterile water and cooler packs.
"She is terrified for you," Xrylen observed quietly from the corner of the tent.
"She is our medical provider," I countered, closing my eyes against the pounding in my skull. "She would react the same way for any ranch hand."
"Keep telling yourself that," Xrylen replied, crossing his arms. "How bad is the pain really?"
"It is manageable," I muttered.
"You are full of shit."
In truth, the venom felt like a hot iron spike driven through my calf and twisted into the joint of my hip. The throbbing thrummed all the way up into my lower spine, making my jaw ache from holding back a curse.
Tammy returned within moments, carrying an armload of supplies that included glass vials, wrapped syringes, and heavy shears. She arranged everything on a clean surgical towel with crisp, practiced efficiency.
"I am administering antivenin," she stated, drawing clear liquid from a sealed vial into a large syringe.
"You brought antivenin on a mountain drive?" I asked, watching her steady fingers flick the air bubbles from the barrel. "Did you think someone was going to get bit?"
"I prepare for every possible catastrophe when I am responsible for people's health," she replied without looking up. "Hold your arm still."
She swabbed my forearm with alcohol and slid the needle smoothly into my vein. The cold sting of the injection was barely noticeable compared to the raging furnace in my lower leg.
"There," she murmured, setting the empty plastic syringe aside. "That will neutralize the toxins in your bloodstream."
"Good," I said, bracing my hands against the ground to sit upright. "I need to check the picket line before the rain hits."
"Lie down."
"Tammy, the horses need—"
"I told you to lie down," she commanded, her voice dropping into a tone of absolute medical authority that brooked no argument. "You are not taking another step tonight."
She picked up the heavy shears and positioned the blunt tip against the leg of my jeans.
"You do not need to ruin a good pair of work pants," I argued weakly.
Tammy ignored me completely. With several clean, decisive cuts, she sliced through the thick denim splitting the fabric from my calf to my hip, revealing the full extent of the damage.
Her breath caught—just for a second—before her professional mask slid back into place.
The twin fang marks sat roughly a half inch apart, each puncture dark and weeping.
Around them, my calf had swollen to nearly twice its normal size, the skin stretched tight and shiny.
Angry purple-black discoloration radiated outward from the bite site in mottled patterns, like ink spreading through water.
Beneath the bruising, my flesh had taken on a sickly yellow-green tinge, and I could see the outline of distended veins tracking up toward my knee—dark, rope-like lines where the venom had traveled through my bloodstream.
The heat coming off the wound was intense enough that I could feel it myself, a feverish radiation that seemed to pulse with my heartbeat. Small blisters had already begun forming at the edges of the punctures, filled with clear fluid tinged pink with blood.
"Jesus," Tammy whispered, then immediately composed herself.
A subtle tightness pulled at her jaw, but her hands never wavered. She cleansed the punctures with antiseptic wash, working gently despite the fierce heat radiating from the wound, before wrapping the entire calf in layers of sterile gauze.
"You are going to stay off this leg until the swelling subsides," she said firmly, securing the bandage with medical tape.
"You absorbed a massive dose of hemotoxin.
Your system needs every ounce of strength to process the antivenin and repair the tissue, even with the help of the anti-venom.
If you exert yourself, you risk sending the venom circulating deeper into your vital organs. "
"Listen to Tammy," Xrylen agreed from the entrance. "The clouds are opening up anyway, so nobody is going anywhere tonight."
A heavy roll of thunder rattled the valley, shaking the canvas walls of the shelter. The wind whistled through the aspens outside, bringing the crisp, earthy fragrance of mountain rain.
A strange, metallic bitterness settled over the back of my tongue, accompanied by a hollow churn in the pit of my stomach. My skull felt heavy, thick with an unnatural fog that made my thoughts sluggish.
"Fine," I conceded, sinking back against the bedroll. "I'll stay put."
Tammy let out a slow breath, the tension in her small shoulders dropping slightly. "Good. I'll be back in a moment."
She gathered her discarded paraphernalia and stepped outside into the dusk. Xrylen lingered by the doorway for a second, watching me with a thoughtful expression.
"You did good out there," my brother said quietly. "You saved her life, Ripplan."
"It was basic instinct," I replied, staring up at the roof seams. "Anyone would have done the same."
"No," Xrylen murmured. "Not anyone."
He ducked out through the canvas flap, leaving me alone in the dim enclosure.
I lay there listening to the steady drumming of the first heavy raindrops against the tent fabric.
The throbbing in my calf had deepened into a dull, grinding torment, while my pulse hammered unevenly in my ears.
The antivenin should have started easing the tightness by now, yet an overwhelming heaviness was spreading through my limbs instead.
The flap rustled open again.
I opened my eyes to see Tammy stepping inside, her arms full of gear. She carried her own bedroll, backpack, a dry pack of medical dressings, a lantern, and two metal canteens.
"What are you doing?" I asked, watching her drop the equipment onto the floorboards.
"I'm not leaving my patient," she replied, shaking out her sleeping bag and spreading it directly alongside mine.
"You have your own tent," I told her, my voice rougher than I intended. "You don't need to spend the night here."
"Yes, I do," she insisted without looking up, smoothing the corners of her blanket with brisk motions. "You took a severe venomous bite, and you need continuous monitoring throughout the night in case you experience an adverse reaction to the antivenin or develop systemic shock."
"I will survive the night, Tammy."
"Probably," she said, finally turning her head to meet my gaze. "However, I refuse to leave that to chance."
"Tammy, be reasonable. You need to get some rest."
"This is not a negotiation, Ripplan. I am staying right here."
The proximity of her was an exquisite kind of torment.
She sat down on the edge of her bedroll, barely a foot away from me, and the ambient warmth of her body seemed to push back the creeping chill in my bones.
In the soft amber glow of the lantern, her blue eyes appeared wide and luminous, holding an intensity that made my chest constrict.
She watched me in silence for several long seconds while the storm broke in earnest outside, sheets of rain pounding against the canvas.
"Why did you do it?" she asked softly.
"Do what?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Ripplan. You jumped in front of that snake. You took the bite that was meant for me." Her voice was steady, but I heard the tremor underneath. "Why?"
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see whatever was in her face. Not wanting her to see what was in mine.
"I couldn't stand the idea of you getting hurt," I said simply.
"That's not an answer. That's—"
"It's the only answer I've got." I opened my eyes and met her gaze. "I saw the snake, and I just... moved. Didn't think about it. Couldn't let it happen."
"You could die from this."
"Better me than you."
"That's not—" She stopped, her jaw clenching. "You don't get to decide that."
"Too late. Already did."
She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
"And stubborn."
"That too."
"And an idiot for thinking your life is worth less than mine."
I didn't have an answer for that. Because the truth was, I didn't think my life was worth less. I just knew, with absolute certainty, that I couldn't live in a world where I'd stood by and watched her get hurt when I could have prevented it.
But before I could form the words, my stomach lurched.
I barely had time to roll onto my side before I vomited.