Archive of Our Own ^beta

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I was aware of heavy pain in my thigh and Winnetous cool hand on my forehead.
Everything else was muted.
My brother leaned in, his breath feathering over my brow, his hair tickling the side of my face.
„Sharlih must be strong now, as Winnetou is not. I cannot cause you this kind of pain.“
A piece of wood was put between my teeth. I realized that even worse pain was to come.
Winnetou leaned over me, his arms holding me tight. I leaned into him, seeking his strength. Someone else’s hands were on my thigh.
Then I bit down.

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They had us.
Being hampered by my injury we hadn’t been fast enough.
Not only was I responsible for Winnetou’s and my fate but now it was my fault as well, if they were captured with us. With my injury our fate was very uncertain. We might not be able to rescue ourselves.
I didn’t even dare try to make Winnetou leave me but Sam, Dick and Will would have stood a chance, if they’d separated from Winnetou and myself. They wouldn’t listen, no matter how much I tried to beg them.

Now, it was too late.
We were cornered.

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Being dragged was never pleasant; with my injured thigh it was worse.
I could barely stand but I would not look weak in front of our enemies.
They formed a tight circle around us.
I was glad that Winnetou was next to me.

Luckily, it was the trefoil with us, we could rely on them to keep calm.
Unluckily, the leader had a personal vendetta against us.
As soon as we were pulled up to him, he drew his gun, stepped close and pressed it against my temple.
From that moment he was a dead man.

We would survive this.

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I woke up disoriented.
This didn’t happen often as things like these can decide between life or death in the west. I barely remembered what happened. There had been a gun to my temple, then - nothing.
Winnetou! Where was he? Was he alive? The others?
I was tied up, lying on the ground and none of the others were near.
My head was pounding and the wound in my thigh was hurting badly.
A rescue would not be easy. We would have to free ourselves.
First I needed to know if Winnetou was alright.
Then we would get the others.

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We had been manhandled quite roughly and no one had looked after my injury.
The dressing needed changing badly. The stitching seemed to have ruptured for I could feel blood seeping down my leg.
I hoped I would not get blood poisoning. The blood loss was an immediate concern though, since it made me dizzy and slowed my thoughts. I needed to figure out how to escape. Not being able to think properly was scary. I felt my usual calmness in the face of uncertainty and danger waver. Hopefully I would be able to regain my composure.

Where was Winnetou?

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Screams from across the clearing caused me to snap out of the state I had fallen into.
Winnetou! He was alive! I was so relieved I could barely comprehend what had happened.
It hadn’t been him who screamed. For an instant I had thought it though. Instead I saw several enemies rolling on the grass or clutching their fingers.
I was very glad that he was well enough to defend himself.
Despite my exhaustion and pain I managed to sit up, able to spot him, amidst more enemies trying to hold him down.

He was trying to get to me.

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We were free! All we had to do now was to stay free and alive. Of course this was easier said than done. We couldn’t get to the horses at the moment, so our best chance was to stay quiet and hidden. Hopefully we could get them later together with our guns and the rest of our equipment.
We were hiding as far away from the camp as we had managed to get with my injured leg.
The wound was aggravated and pained me quite badly.
Winnetou insisted on checking it himself.

I felt his hands shaking on my skin.

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Our situation was dire. We had no food or water. No weapons, no horses. My injury irritated me badly still. I was afraid the fever might come back.
Winnetou was doing what he could to make me comfortable. It wasn’t much but I appreciated the little things. He was sitting upright, leaning his head against a tree. My head was pillowed on his thigh. Despite my feeble protests Winnetou had taken off his jacket and draped it over me to give me some warmth.

Considering the whole situation I was tempted to just stay where I was and give in.

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At some point I must have fallen asleep because rain woke me.
I had been tossing and turning. Poor Winnetou must have not gotten any rest. Though at the moment I was more worried about the cold from the storm. I could feel him shiver.
When I tried to give him his coat back, he silently refused.
He also shook his head, when I tried to speak.
Winnetou’s eyes were dark when he looked at me. For the first time ever I thought I saw some hopelessness in them. Maybe it was my own reflected back.

Then they found us.

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One of our enemies was wielding a whip. In many ways he reminded me of that nasty deserter that I had met in Mexico.
At one point he had managed to capture me by wrapping the whip around my throat.
The next moment several of his henchmen had gripped my arms, holding me as tight as the whip that was still wrapped around my throat.
He had pulled me closer to him with it. It had been all I could do to stay on my feet.

The feeling of being this powerless had stayed with me for a long time.

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They had laughed when they had seen us.
We probably looked like drowned rats. Indeed, Winnetou’s beautiful mane was very disheveled. No one seeing us now would believe us being the famous Winnetou and Old Shatterhand.
Our enemies might have thought the same for they actually allowed Winnetou to rebandage my leg.
He had to use the old bandages which were quite torn now but he tried to clean them as well as possible under the circumstances.

It hurt when he tore them off but Winnetou’s hands were very warm on my skin and he found a smile for me.

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That thrice-cursed rusty nail. Why did I have to make that jump? Of course I had thought I could clear the overturned wagon with no problems. Too bad I hadn’t seen the long rusty nail sticking out of it. It had come lose, driving into my thigh just under my skin.
At first I hadn’t even felt it. Only when I had gotten irritated that there seemed to be something stuck to my leg, I had realized how bad it was. The nail had been long, which had meant that I hadn’t been able to pull it out by myself.

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„Are you here to break us out“? I whispered softly to Sam who was lying in the bush behind me. It was so dark I could barely see Winnetou lying next to me. For Sam to have managed to rob through the underbrush to come find us, well, he was a good westman but he wasn’t me nor Winnetou. For him it was quite the feat and in this moment I was very glad to know him near. It meant there might be a hope to escape this hellish nightmare.

All I wanted was make sure Winnetou would survive this.

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We had failed.

It did not happen often that I had to admit that.
It was all I could do not to give up hope.
Sam had not managed to break us out. The trefoil had now been recaptured too. We were still in the hands of our enemies and we would probably not survive the next day. If our situation had not been so dire or if I had been my usual self this would not have put such a damper on my spirit.
With everything that had happened we were in quite a situation.

Time for desperate measures.

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Our flight had been a harrowing one.
Afterwards I could barely remember our desperate ride, relying solely on the wonderful horses and Winnetou to get us to relative safety.
I barely had the strength to stay astride my dear Hatatitla, hanging on for all our lives, breathing through the agonizing pain in my wounded thigh. Winnetou’s careful stitching had come undone and I would retain a nasty new scar as a reminder of this excruciating adventure if we did not get to safety soon.

I hoped the wound was re-stichable though Winnetou would probably have a hard time with it.

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I could not move.
I knew it was necessary because this time holding me down to re-stitch the wound would not be enough. Winnetou had been so somber suggesting the dangerous herbs that I almost thought he had come to tell me worse. As it was, it all depended on the exact dosage since a bit too much would also paralyze my lungs or my heart.
When I had gripped my brother’s arm and asked him if there was any other way he had shaken his beautiful head.

„Then why does my brother ask? I trust you with my life.“

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Winnetou set to work.
With the paralyzing herbs doing their work I could not get any painkillers. Neither could I grit my teeth or bite down on anything hard to relieve the excruciating pain. Since I could barely move my lungs to breathe, I could not even scream.
There comes a time in a man’s life where he reaches his breaking point.
No matter how brave or noble or in control of his emotions he is.
With everything that had happened, I reached mine that fateful day.
When Winnetou had finished stitching my wound, tears were rolling down my face.

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Since it would take a while for the paralysis to wear off, I could do nothing but lie there, helpless like a newborn. Rarely have I hated anything more than being so helpless.
Even when bound at the stake I could always think about escape plans in my head.
Right now I could do nothing. Nothing at all. I was utterly at Winnetou’s mercy. For a moment I even hated him for putting me in this position.
Then he turned towards me.
„My brother needs to stay warm,“ he said and gently laid his jacket over me.
I felt warm.

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The next morning I could move again.
Slowly, still lying underneath Winnetou’s jacket, I tested every limb. They moved well enough and didn’t hurt too much.
Gratefully, I tried to get on my feet but I couldn’t.
Well, after several exhausting tries, I managed to get to my knees. Winnetou, his eyes full of worry, pulled me to my feet, though I was very wobbly. The moment I tried to take a step forward though, the world spun around me. Dizzyness swept through me. My knees buckled; I fell on them hard.
Before I hit the ground I was unconscious.

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Waking up was like swimming through molasses. I heard words but could not understand them. Recognizing Winnetou’s cold voice and the hated one of our enemy, I tried more to swim up faster.
It was hard. I hurt all over, my brain was sirup and if I was not mistaken we had fallen back into the hands of our enemies. And it was my fault.
Again, the situation was dire.
But maybe not as dire as I feared because finally I started to process the words.
Winnetou and the leader were in negotiations.
They were considering a trade of prisoners.