Chapter Text
Goldie could not remember another time that her luck had been quite this rotten. Then again, she’d brought Louie with her on this adventure. That kid seemed to exude bad luck with every ounce of his being. So, of course, Louie’s bad luck caused a cave-in. An unfortunate event, surely, but cave-ins were standard fare for seasoned adventurers like Goldie and Louie.
But then, that one large rock came hurtling towards her. Louie, bless the kid, managed to react in time, pushing her far enough out of the way to prevent her from being completely flattened, but not far enough away to stop her from getting her arm pinned between that rock and the wall of the cavern. This was a tad more unlucky than usual, but it was still the type of thing Goldie felt confident handling.
Being stared down by a feral, ferocious, and angry-looking bear with no means of escape was definitely a level of unlucky that Goldie found nearly unfathomable. But here she was, almost completely immobilized in this goddamn cave, seconds away from being torn to shreds by a massive wild beast.
If Scrooge were here, he’d describe this situation as being “up shit creek without a paddle.” Well, that’s what Scrooge would say if he were here and Louie wasn’t. Scrooge was very mindful not to curse around the kids. Goldie was much less careful. Over the years, Louie had picked up some colorful language, and Scrooge blamed Goldie. Goldie brushed it off. Louie was sixteen years old now! Well into his teenage years! Of course he’d picked up some foul language, most kids do!
“Hey, dickhead!” Louie shouted, pelting the bear with a few stones from a few dozen feet away. “Leave her alone!”
The bear ignored Louie’s taunting, shrugging off the rocks he threw like they were house flies. It slowly stalked toward Goldie, letting out an intimidating, low growl. Goldie could see large globs of salvia falling out of its mouth. The thing obviously intended to make a meal of her.
When the rock hit her, it knocked her satchel off, which landed three or four feet away from where Goldie was now pinned. She definitely had a few things in there that she could use to free herself. The fact that it was just out of her reach – literally two or three inches – was the single most unlucky thing about the whole experience so far. Try as she might, stretching herself until her pinned arm felt like it was about to snap, she just couldn’t reach the damn thing.
“Louie, you need to get out of here, you can’t take this thing on by yourself!” Goldie called out. In the confusion, Goldie had lost track of Louie, but she assumed he was close enough to hear her. Goldie could take care of herself; Louie, on the other hand, tended to get himself into messes he couldn’t talk his way out of.
The bear was now close enough that she could smell its putrid breath. She was out of time. She needed to figure out something in the next few seconds or she’d be mincemeat. The bear reared upwards onto its hind legs, raising its massive paw into the air, ready to bring clawed death down upon Goldie.
Suddenly, a green blur was atop the beast. Louie hopped on the bear’s back, climbing up to its shoulders and wrapping his legs around its neck as he pulled on its ears and tried to gouge its eyes out with his bare hands. Immediately the bear began thrashing about, attempting to buck Louie off like he were a bull rider. Louie eventually found an opportunity and jumped off, hitting the ground and rolling. In one smooth motion he scooped up Goldie’s satchel and tossed it to her before hopping over a well-aimed swipe of the paw.
“Jesus Christ, kid, be careful! I told you to scram! This thing’s dangerous!” Goldie yelled out as she began to rifle through her satchel with her free arm.
“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you, Louie, I owe you one!’” Louie shouted back with gleeful candor. He’d put some distance between himself and the bear, which seemed incensed before but was clearly livid now. With a wild roar, the bear charged Louie, who began to flee with a rather undignified yelp.
“Come on, come on… there has to be something useful here…” Goldie muttered under her breath, frustrated.
Goldie finally found a useful thing: a small vial with a sparkly red liquid inside of it. She quickly yet gingerly removed the cork with her bill, careful not to spill on herself, spitting the cork to the side and pouring the contents of the vial onto the rock that pinned her to the wall. Instantly, the rock began to shrink, reducing to the size of a pebble in only a few seconds.
Goldie didn’t stick around to watch the magic at work. As soon as her arm was free, she made a mad dash toward Louie, who was still being pursued by the bear a few dozen yards away.
And then, in what was undoubtedly the worst stroke of luck yet, Louie tripped.
Goldie cried out.
“No!”
Louie hit the ground on his stomach. He quickly pushed himself off the ground, attempting to get going again, but it was too late. The full force of the bear’s massive claw came down squarely on Louie’s back, shredding Louie’s hoodie and leaving three deep gashes in his back.
Louie cried out in pain, trying to roll away from his attacker. The bear leaned down and chomped onto Louie’s what was left of Louie’s hoodie, and Louie let out another panicked cry. The bear spent a few moments thrashing him around before the remains of his hoodie finally snapped and he slammed back to the ground. The duck ragdolled a few feet across the stone floor of the cavern before coming to a completely still – too still – stop.
Goldie watched in horror as the scene unfolded in front of her. She hadn’t been quick enough. With an angry yell, she planted a nasty kick to the side of the bear’s face as it was gearing up to attack Louie again. The animal immediately turned its attention to Goldie, snarling wildly and lashing out with its claw. She jumped back to escape its range, before producing a small orb from her satchel. She threw it at the bear and turned away, covering her ears and shutting her eyes as best she could.
The orb popped as it impacted the bear’s face, creating a brilliant light and an extremely loud noise that seemed all the louder in the confines of the cavern. Even with her eyes closed and her ears plugged, the bang still slightly disoriented Goldie.
The bear experienced the full effects of the device and stumbled around wildly before falling onto its side. It began to whip its limbs around in confusion, trying to regain its bearings. Goldie wanted nothing more than to kill the damn thing, but she had much more pressing matters to attend to. Still slightly dizzy, she ran over to Louie and scooped him into her arms, sprinting away before bear could get its wits back.
“Louie, baby, can you hear me?” Goldie asked as she ran with Louie in her arms. She held him against her chest, with his bill resting on her shoulder. She momentarily cringed at the overly-familiar name she called him before realizing how trivial such a thing was.
Especially because she received no response.
Goldie could feel that the feathers on her arms were absolutely soaked with blood, and her clothing wasn’t faring much better. She needed to figure out the severity of his wounds so she could best determine how to address them, but she first needed to get out of the cavern to the relative safety of the surrounding forest. She felt a momentary panic as she moved her hand to Louie’s neck to feel for a pulse. Relief washed over her as she felt a relatively steady beat, despite the blood loss.
“Kid, you better not die on me…”
After a few minutes of running, Goldie could finally see daylight. Louie began to stir in her arms. Goldie’s sprint slowed to a walk.
“Louie? Talk to me, sharpie. I need to know you’re still with me,” Goldie said.
“Mmmmnnnnn…” Louie groaned in reply. He didn’t seem fully aware yet. Goldie found a small log and set the boy face-down on it, finally getting a chance to assess his wounds with the light of the evening sun.
Louie was naked, his hoodie torn and the pieces left with the bear in the cave. His back was a grotesque fleshy mess, missing most of its feathers, with three distinct gashes running down from his shoulder blades to just above his waist. The blood made the depth of the wounds impossible to visually discern, but judging by the volume of blood, the wounds were deep.
“G-Goldie? H-help, it h-hurts…” Louie whined out. Goldie had never heard such fear in his voice before. She’d seen him scared plenty of times (she liked to describe sharpie as “the bravest coward I know”), but this was different. He sounded so weak, so small. Goldie looked over Louie once again as he shuddered in pain, moisture collecting on his eyes. She swallowed heavily.
“You took a really nasty one for me, sharpie. But you’re going to be alright. I know you’ve been through worse,” Goldie replied, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible. She didn’t want to betray how internally terrified she was. If Louie knew how unsure she was of his condition, he’d probably panic. That definitely wouldn’t help.
Louie tilted his head to the side so he could look at Goldie at the edges of his vision. Goldie finally noticed the injuries to his head and face. The bear had slammed him face-first into the stone floor of the cavern, splitting his upper bill right down the middle and giving him a black eye. A large contusion was swelling on his forehead just above that eye. Large patches of feathers were missing all over his face. After taking a few strained breaths, a sly smirk crawled across Louie’s face. “I kn-know you’re lying to me, Goldie. I’ve never gotten myself f-fucked up this badly,” Louie said, following up with a weak chuckle. “And a-another thing: you’re c-covered in my blood. It’s n-not like you to be this bad at lying.”
Even at a time like this, Louie couldn’t help himself. Goldie decided that it was a positive development that Louie was still trying to banter with her despite his injuries. She wished her mind would stop racing for long enough to form a witty reply. Maybe it would help keep him calm. Goldie looked down and realized that, yes, she was, in fact, drenched in blood. She’d been too distracted to realize it.
Louie’s demeanor suddenly changed as he winced through a wave of excruciating pain. He tensed up, panting heavily and gripping the log beneath him with all the force he could muster. He let out a pained wail.
“Oh shit Goldie, it h-hurts,” Louie wheezed. “Hurts w-worse than anything.”
“I won’t lie to you again, Louie. I have to clean these wounds,” Goldie replied, her words slightly shaky. “That’s going to hurt too.” Louie didn’t immediately reply. Goldie pulled her first aid kit out of her satchel and began to open it.
Blood was dripping off of each side of the log, pooling beneath it. The air was thick with the smell of it. The surrounding forest was very placid, drenched in golden evening light. It was cool, there was a very slight and gentle breeze… the severely injured duck seemed extremely out of place in the calm environment.
“Am I going to die, Aunt Goldie?”
The question caught Goldie flat-footed. The fact that he called her “Aunt Goldie” didn’t help. He usually called her that to annoy her because he knew she didn’t like it. The way he said it this time… it felt like he truly considered her as family. As if he’d prefer to have someone he considered family around if these really were his last moments.
“Of course not, sharpie, and don’t you dare even consider dying on me,” Goldie replied, trying to feign confidence after an uncomfortable silence. Goldie removed her belt and quickly secured Louie’s wrists together so that he was bear-hugging the log he was laid on. She needed him restrained for what she was about to do. Louie didn’t even seem to notice.
“You r-really think I’d let your ancient ass outlive me?” Louie said tauntingly.
Goldie began to irrigate Louie’s back wounds with water before applying a large cloth to soak up the water and blood. Louie screamed bloody murder.
“Fuck, G-Goldie! That hurts!” Louie protested. He struggled against his restraints, grunting and whining in pain as Goldie cleaned the wounds. “P-Please stop, Aunt Goldie! It hurts!” His high-pitched wails of pain almost made Goldie oblige, but she knew that she must continue. She knew that this was necessary. It might save her sharpie’s life. She needed to do what she could to prevent infection, especially with how long it was going to take to get Louie to a hospital.
Goldie glanced through the trees at the setting sun. They were at least a half-day’s trek away from the plane, and that’d be without carrying a gravely injured duck the whole way. It’d be too dangerous to continue in the dark. She’d need to cover as much ground as possible with the little remaining light she had, then set up camp. With the wounds cleaned she could tell they weren’t as deep as she initially feared; there was probably some muscle damage, and the force of the paw might’ve broken a few of Louie’s ribs, but she didn’t think the wounds were deep enough to injure any organs.
With the wounds thoroughly irrigated, she tossed the bloody rag to the side and grabbed a fresh one, applying it evenly to the wound on his back. She freed him from the restraint and sat him up so she could wrap his body in gauze, holding the cloth in place. Louie sniffled and a few tears fell into his lap. For as excruciating an experience this surely was, the boy was maintaining his composure fairly well.
Goldie was not equipped to treat Louie’s broken bill, nor his concussion. She hoped the latter was only mild, and his relative lucidity seemed to indicate that her hopes were well-placed.
“Well, kid, all I got in here is some ibuprofen. It isn’t much, but it’ll help a little with the pain,” Goldie said, bringing her palm to Louie’s mouth. She carefully helped him swallow the pills with some water.
Louie closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. He couldn’t sit up straight without Goldie’s help. He was clearly half-conscious.
“I need you to stay awake for now, alright sharpie? Promise me you’ll stay awake?” Goldie replied. “We need to get moving. The longer we’re out here is the longer you’re without a doctor.” Goldie kneeled down in front of Louie, who was still seated on the blood-soaked log. “Here, climb on. Arms around my neck.”
Louie complied, wrapping his arms around Goldie’s neck as she held his legs. Goldie’s instant reaction was to think about how much Louie weighed now; he definitely wasn’t the tiny, sixty-pound, massive-headed ball of feathers he was when she met him. Goldie took a few uncertain steps, trying to acclimate to traversing the uneven terrain of the forest while giving a teenage duck a piggyback ride.
The pair continued for some time in near silence, save the ambient noises of the forest and the soft crunch of pine needles underneath Goldie’s shoes. Goldie trekked along to the unsteady rhythm of Louie’s laborious breathing. His struggled breaths screamed “I am dying!” and Goldie did her best to ignore them.
“Do you think Uncle Scrooge is still gonna let us adventure together after this?” Louie suddenly asked.
“Don’t we have more pressing concerns to worry about, kid?” Goldie replied.
Louie chuckled weakly. “Yea, I guess we do. Still worries me,” Louie said hoarsely. He swallowed heavily before continuing. “Our adventures together are really fun. I’d miss them.”
“It’s worrying me that you’re getting all sentimental. You’re not planning to go anywhere, are you?” Goldie teased. Goldie could practically hear Louie roll his eyes in response. She always found bantering with Louie to be entertaining; now it was proving to be immensely stress-relieving. “Besides,” Goldie continued, “the people I’d be worried about are your mom and her brother. Scrooge doesn’t trust me, but he does like me. Those two definitely don’t. And I don’t think this little incident is going to improve my standing with them.”
“D’yoh boy,” Louie snickered in response, “when Uncle Donald sees the condition you’ve returned me in, he’s going to explode. Go positively nuclear.”
“Exactly,” Goldie said, stopping for a few moments to rest. She took a swig from her canteen. “The only reason they let me take you on these trips is because they know how much you enjoy them, and they love you much more than they hate me.” She shook her legs to relieve some of her muscle tension before setting off once more through the forest.
“I wish I could get them to come around. I wish they didn’t hate you,” Louie replied, sounding almost somber. Goldie stopped again. A cutting reply came to mind, but something in her mind stopped her from saying it. There was an awkward moment of silence. “I love mom and Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge more than anything in the world, but they…” Louie’s voice trailed off. Goldie wanted nothing more to say something caustic and dismissive to get Louie off of this saccharine subject, but the words just wouldn’t leave her mouth. Louie sighed heavily. “…there are some things about me that I think you understand better than they ever will. Better than even my brothers do.”
Goldie still couldn’t formulate a coherent response. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say she was touched. She didn’t really know the other two triplets very well, but she knew that the three were very close, along with that girl. Louie was spilling his heart out and Goldie hated it, because it meant having to admit that their relationship was more than just transactional. More than just business. It was one of those obnoxious things that called out Goldie’s crass and uncaring façade for what it is: a façade. She really enjoyed the kid’s company, and the fact that she’d let him get hurt (and hurt badly) was eating her alive.
She’d do anything to make sure Sharpie would live to adventure another day. With or without her.
Another half hour or so passed with no words exchanged. Goldie trudged on, stopping occasionally to catch her breath and do some leg stretches. Louie seemed to be holding up as well as anyone could reasonably be expected to, given his condition. Goldie would occasionally hear a few sniffles or a few grunts of pain, usually accompanied by Louie’s grip around her collar tightening. Goldie had her fair share of severe injuries under her belt, so she could sympathize with his pain. She was, honestly, very proud of him: she couldn’t imagine very many 16-year-olds suffering through what Louie was suffering through with the same amount of poise. The boy was a trooper, through and through.
The light of the evening sun had been almost totally exhausted, and the temperature was dropping fast. She felt Louie shiver against her back.
“G-Goldie, I’m not sure how m-much longer I can hold on…” Louie whispered. He was clearly exhausted.
“That’s fine, sharpie. We’re out of daylight anyway. We’ll set up camp here,” Goldie replied.
Goldie set Louie down on a small boulder as she set up the tent before starting a small fire. Louie rested his head against a tree immediately beside the rock and closed his eyes. Goldie prepared some soup over the fire, taking it to Louie in a small paper bowl. She roused the half-asleep duck, offering him some food. He managed to take a few spoonfuls before resting his head back against the tree. He, understandably, didn’t have an appetite right now.
The bandages around Louie’s body had been completely bled through. Goldie propped the half-conscious duck upright as she removed the bandages, tossing them aside. She grabbed her flashlight and struggled to turn it on; the dried blood in the feathers on her hands made things difficult, to say the least. She only had enough water for her and Louie to drink, but she knew that there was a stream crossing a few hours down the trail. She could wash up then.
After she finally managed to get the flashlight to turn on, she looked once again at the wounds running down Louie’s back. Blood was still steadily leaking at a pace far too quick for Goldie’s comfort. She soaked some of it up with another rag and was met with a hiss in pain from Louie. She apologized under her breath before wrapping him up in a fresh set of bandages.
At this point, Louie was definitely more asleep than awake. Goldie carried him to the tent and placed him in the cot she’d set up before covering him with blankets. She needed to get some rest too, but she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight. So she kept vigilant watch over the child she’d come to love as her own (though she’d never admit it), each of his pained wheezes compounding her guilt, each of his cold shivers like a knife in her heart.
As the night went on, the wheezes got more desperate and the shivers got more intense. Goldie numbly watched as Louie’s condition slowly got worse and worse, wondering to herself how she could have possibly let this happen.