Chapter Seven - Camp in the Woods
Hannah
I pushed another stick into the small fire, and stirred the pot of stew. I wished to god I had more to put in it than the little bit of squirrel meat, and the vegetables I’d stolen from the garden. Even just a little salt would have made it more palatable. With a sigh I left the pot to boil, and went to my brother. He was lying on a deerskin, covered with a quilt that I had pulled off from some farm woman’s clothes line. I didn’t want to steal, I didn’t like to be a thief, but for my brother I would do anything.
I pulled back the quilt and tried not to gag. The wound in his shoulder was putrid and septic. His whole shoulder and chest was red and inflamed, while the wound itself oozed pus. The stink of the infection made me throw up in m
