Chapter Text
Nothing could have prepared Dutch or Hosea for the sight they saw. Blood splashed onto the ground and a boy - their boy - fell onto the ground holding onto his bloody throat. A giant beast insistent to finish its dying meal, lumbered towards the gasping and dying form and Dutch shot before he could think. The lion fell, a new pool of blood slowly merging into -
"Arthur!" The pure panic in Hosea's voice knocked Dutch into action and they both flew towards him, dismounting even before the horses stopped, stumbling to his side, Hosea cradled his head while Dutch crouched over him hands fluttering around uselessly as Arthur gurgled beneath him, glassy eyes meeting desperate brown as more and more blood flowed freely from his neck staining the muddy ground with its dark hues. Dutch ripped the sleeve off his white shirt and hastily wrapped it around Arthur's neck as Arthur slowly stopped moving, his desperate gurgles slowed and nearly stopped and Dutch near panicked until Hosea grabbed his hands, meeting his eyes, and took over knotting it tight to slow the bleeding. Finally a real breathe of air entered Arthur's desperate lungs but they worried it would be too late considering how shallow the breathing was. The sleeve was stained red near instantly and Dutch sucked in desperate breaths fighting the sudden dizzying anxiety as he watched Arthur's chest slowly raise and lower. Hosea pulled himself up from his crouch and whistled loudly, startling Dutch, and started trying to lift his boy. It was then Dutch realized Hosea was talking to him.
"-On the horse, get him quickly to camp so I can stitch it up... Pray to god that he hasn't lost too much blood. Help me, Dutch." And Dutch did, staggering to his feet and helping him hoist their son up and onto the back of Hosea's turkoman. They knew they had to ride fast but they couldn't ride too fast and risk raising attention.
"Let's go, quickly." And they took off, galloping as fast as they could before nearing camp and slowing down to not grab any attention. Hosea gently touched Arthur's bloody and torn neck checking for any sign of a pulse, relieved when he felt a small barely there but steady thump thump thump.
--
Grimshaw near had a heart attack when she saw them ride into camp, both men covered in Arthur's blood and the man himself half dead, unresponsive, and bleeding slowing but not enough. She shook her head, pulled her skirt up from the ground and started ordering the camp around to keep them out of the way as the curious couple clumsily dragged Arthur off the horse and towards the table. They laid him out on the table, not his bed, so they could access the slices on his neck better when they started to tend to it, but for now it kept Arthur at a decent height for them to hold his neck while Hosea hastily gathered the suturing supplies. Abigail ushered a now terrified Jack away while John stood staring, mouth agape, in shock. Tilly was near tears as she took in the pale and bloody man who was so kind to her, coming to her rescue rather often. Karen was nowhere to be seen and it was probably for the best Sean had her occupied as the grisly sight would have made her sick. Mary-Beth stared at her book without reading the pages as tears dripped out of her eyes staining the pages. Even she could tell the outcome wasn't looking good here, especially with how unresponsive and bloody Arthur was. The men, except John, all busied themselves just so they wouldn't have to see Arthur possibly dying in front of them, with nothing anyone could do.
The makeshift bandage around his neck was slowly peeled away and blood gushed from the two long and possibly deep slices on his throat. It pulsed out in time with his heart beat and the sight made Hosea sick to his stomach but he knew he had to be strong. Grimshaw brought over a bucket of water and some spare clean cloths to help blot the blood away. She took a spare cloth and pressed it against his throat, leaving a small area for Hosea to start stitching. His hands shook but he took a steadying deep breathe and did his best to stabilize his hands as he began. The needle tugged at the skin, pulling the slice closed and stopping the blood.
Dutch uselessly paced back and forth occasionally glancing up to see Arthur's pale and slack face and gruesome neck and felt the tell tale stinging of tears behind his eyes. His strong boy was dying right in front of him and there was no shooting or talking his way out of this situation. The memory of Arthur's panicked eyes glossing over as he lost blood kept replaying in his head, a sick movie he couldn't stop watching and it went on and on and on-
"Dutch?" The soft yet still thickly accented voice interrupted the awful imagines, causing said man to turn, and see Molly staring at him, eyes soft. Her hand gently came up and rested on his arm and Dutch touched her hand gently in response. She offered him a sympathetic smile and he patted her hand in response turning to see Hosea wipe a bloody hand across his forehead, smearing red. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he worked, desperation making his work a bit shaky but the relief of Arthur's breathing steadying eased his burden. The last stitch in place, Hosea and Susan worked together to clean his neck of blood and debris, both feeling the weight of their situation lighten. Arthur wheezed, but remained unmoving.
----
3 days. It took 3 days before Arthur woke hazily and disorientated. He was very clearly not 'there' but it was better then the suffocating silence his tent had been home to the last few days. He woke with a gurgled shout, hands flying to his neck and Hosea burst into the tent, desperately ripping the hands away from the devastated neck. Arthur's bleary eyes met his and Hosea would swear he saw some recognizance in the striking blue eyes but, said eyes rolled back into his head and Arthur slumped back down onto the bed. Dutch burst onto the scene, brown eyes wide with terror and Hosea was so exhausted he almost laughed.
"He's... fine. Barely even woke up. Let's take this as a good sign." Hosea stumbled towards the entrance to the tent, Dutch caught his elbow.
"Why don't you try and sleep, I'll watch over him." He offered, a soft look on his usually hard face. Hosea blinked tiredly up at him and smiled humorlessly.
"I can try. I just keep seeing that lion taking him down and he dies right in front of us and there is nothing I can do but scream uselessly." Hosea admitted, tiredness cause tears to cloud his vision, he blinked them away.
"I know, but you look like you could fall asleep. Try, at least. For me." And Hosea did, he tried. He slept deeply and woke crying out for Arthur but he atleast got some.
---
2 days.
Arthur woke, pain dulled out every other feeling and he curled up into his himself. His throat was on fire, what the hell happened? He wheezed out a weak shout as his hand gently dusted his- bandaged?- throat. Hands were suddenly fluttering around him trying to pull him out of his curl and weakly he shot a hand out to shoo them away, fear ate away at his mind and he wheezed a weak plea.
"Please son, calm down!" Dutch? Was that Dutch? Arthur peeled his eyes open and blearily looked out at Dutch, then Hosea. Why did they look so worried? Why did his throat hurt so bad? He tried to ask but his vocal chords would not cooperate. He squeezed his eyes shut but relaxed under the touch of Hosea. He drifted off...
--
Arthur woke up, feeling his throat protest and throb agonizingly so. His eyes fluttered open and he flinched as a stream of light assaulted his eyes. He tried to groan but his throat protested, he realized how dry his mouth was and tried to sit up. He choked on a gasp as he fell back, failing to sit up. His head began to pulse pain with every beat of his heart and he covered his eyes with his hands. He didn't hear when someone entered the tent, nor did he hear them gently set water next to his bed. He did flinch when a hand gently touched his hand and he blearily glanced out at the person. Abigail stood, looking nervous but somehow happy, gently pulling at his hands. Arthur let her move his hands and she picked up the cup, gently lowering it to his lips and letting him drink slowly. His throat protested with every swallow but the water eased the dry sand feeling his throat seemed to hold onto, desperately. He saw her lips move but he was so delirious he didn't understand what she said until Dutch and Hosea skidded into the tent.
"Son, you're awake! How do you feel?" Arthur couldn't process anything so he blinked blearily up at the two, a gentle look crossed their faces, soon he dropped back into darkness, exhaustion pulling at his bones.
-
Hosea sat, a soft and tired look on his face, watching as Arthur doodled in his journal. They sat in silence but they both were relaxed and at ease and the tension of Arthur's near death was not to be found. Arthur has woken up yesterday and managed to stay awake for longer then a few minutes. He agonizingly was able to drink water and a small bit of stew and after drifting off for a bit Hosea and Dutch helped him sit up so he could have some semblance of independence.
"Hosea." Arthur's raspy voice broke into his thoughts and his eyes flickered up to meet the boys. A small smile tugged at Arthur's lips and he reached a hand out, meeting Hosea's.
"Thanks, for uh... helping me." He managed, his face screwed up in pain as the words vibrated the sensitive skin of his throat. Luckily the pain had dramatically lessened after sleeping almost a full week. Hosea had assured him that it was healing well though he would have a pretty nasty scar.
"Of course, just... try not to end up on the wrong side of a lion again, okay son?" And Arthur wheezed a broken laugh in agreement.