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Hamilton had not meant to skip dinner, work through the night, and forget about breakfast and lunch when the sun rose again. He had not meant to go out hunting faint from hunger and lack of sleep.
The stag he had angered did not seem to care however, and Alexander figured that if he had to die being gored to death, at least it was warm and dry here. He should not have cornered the animal against the large slab of rock, should have left it space to run without going through him, but hunting had never been one of the things he had spent energy learning.
Then he’s flat on his back, a cold numbness spreading from his chest down his arms. He was probably bleeding something fierce, probably making gasping motions with his mouth. Really, he felt oddly detached from the whole situation. Good for the stag though, he’d live to eat grass another day. Alexander figured that the stag probably didn’t care that he had gored a very soft human and left it to the mercy of scavengers and any other carnivores in the area. How long until wolves caught his scent? Bears? Maybe they’d be nice enough to let him die before eating him.
He supposed it should worry him more, bleeding out on the forest floor, but the numb feeling was almost freeing. He couldn’t walk, so he didn’t, just lay there and let the heat of the pine needles beneath him leech into his back.
-
He’s surprised when he wakes up, not least because he did not remember falling asleep, but also because he shouldn’t still be alive. Shouldn’t blood loss have killed him by now? But apparently not, as the dull ache in his midsection and the hunger still gnawing at him told him that he was not, in fact, dead.
Lifting his head from the pine needles it rested on, he looked down at himself. Okay, so not gored as badly as he had thought. Yes, there were bleeding holes in his middle, but no internal organs were in any danger of falling from behind his skin. If he could get the numbness in his legs to subside, maybe he could even make it back to camp, he was not far.
It took a few tries, but eventually he made it to his feet. He winced when he noticed the small, blood-covered rock approximately where his head had been. Ah. That would explain the detached fogginess then. He takes a step, then wonders why his shoulder feels so light. Looking around, he saw the musket lying a few feet away, undamaged. Well, thank God for small mercies, the Continental Army was low enough on supplies without hapless Island boys losing firearms on unsuccessful hunting trips.
His vision becomes spots and dancing lines when he bends over to retrieve it, and he has to pause for a moment to be able to see the trees in front of him. He wouldn’t get very far if he ran into trees.
It’s an interesting, detached walk back to camp. A squirrel crossed his path, the loud sound of it in the trees startling him for a moment before he caught sight of the bushy tail. Huh. A little creature, to make such noise. The stag had been much quieter.
The sentry on guard must be hard of sight, because he asks Hamilton for the password. Or maybe he’s a stickler to the rules. God knows they’ve all seen enough blood to be desensitized. Or maybe the man thought it was from some animal. Well. Either way, Alexander cannot for the life of him summon the energy to remember the password.
“I’ve been rather gored by a stag,” he said instead, trying for a conversational tone. “Kinda hard ta think a anythin’ . . .” the man squints at him. The sun is going down, and is sitting at a rather unfortunate spot for Hamilton’s own eyes. He sat down heavily. “Don’ ‘xactly have the energy to argue,” he slurred sleepily. “Haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday: I assume it was yesterday, don’t know how long I was out for.” The man was starting to look worried now. “I can wait for you to find someone,” Alexander offered helpfully. “I’m just dreadfully tired and could probably do with some medical attention.”
“Some?!” the man spluttered, seeming incredulous. Hamilton shrugged internally. There was just no pleasing some people. “You could use a whole team of doctors, you could. Come on Lieutenant Colonel, I will escort you to the medical tent.”
“Might have to carry me,” is all the warning Alexander is able to give before the gnat-like spots fill his vision once more and he collapses back into darkness.