Tending Her Wounds [4/29]

Carefully, the young doctor changed her own bandages. The stitches that were in place held up admirably. Every movement pulled at the overwrought muscles of her stomach. Even standing was a strain, but still the woman managed to keep her face clear of all wincing. It would take more than physical pain to keep the stubborn female from seeing to her patients. Her hands worked, steady as ever. Her eyes were fine. Her nerves were steeled. She'd be fine.

Dionysus sat, green eyes staring at Kendra's hands as if they were hypnotic. Or perhaps it was the string that entranced the feline as Kendra tied off some of the bandages. Carefully, the woman dressed, her skirt sitting lower than her waist in an effort to avoid the pressure or friction of the fabric over still healing and sensitive sutures. She gathered her doctor's coat, slipped her feet into her hospital shoes, and left through the door. Along the way, pain tablets are washed down with coffee.

Some of the pain would melt away about an hour later. The wounds did cause a great deal of pain to Kendra, but her slavish work ethic would not be disrupted by the mere bite of a fish monster. The cat would follow her to the door meowing like mad for her to stay.

Dionysus hated being left alone in the tiny dormitory. Potential for mischief was so terribly small in the tiny space...