"But the visible veins seem t' be doing well. And the iris and pupil looks good, reactive and no inflammation. No blood. Does it hurt or sting when you try t' focus on something? How about blinking or moving your eye? Does the area around it feel numb?"
This lad's pretty good at his profession, thought Eddie as Cor inspected his eye. In his years as a Warpup, other than first aid and basic wound treatment, advanced treatment fell on the Therapy dogs. And amongst those, none were quite as effective as Surehands. The old man was a machine; after battle it wasn't a question of if Surehands would fix you up, but when. His expertise had saved Eddie more times than he probably deserved.
Cor's thoroughness brought memories of Surehands back; stitching up open wounds, anesthetizing before an operation, and, of course, the regular rant against using dogfood. One would recon that it'd be a good idea taking the advice of the man that's saved your life more times than you can count, but Eddie was young and foolish back then. Now he was just the latter.
"It feels a little sore when I move it, but otherwise it doesn't bugger me." Which, as he was taught ages ago meant that the possibilities of infection were low. He already thought -and hoped- that it was nothing, but he wanted a second opinion, and given Cor's more than competent description of his eye his doubts extinguished. At around that moment the wagon slowed down and came to a halt. "Looks like we've arrived." Or we're about to be ambushed.
"Thanks fer checkin' on my eye" he said as he got up, smiling, "I owe ya one. If ye need anything while me and Rasp's still around, ye can count on us." And got off the wagon, "I'll check how things look in the front real quick. Lemme know if ye need help with our injured."
---
This particular settlement was neither one of the bigger or the smaller ones Eddie had the chance to encounter. Which was all the worse for them, because raiders liked these kinda towns: Not too small to be worth it, not big enough to deter all but the biggests gangs from attacking. Still, given the rather polite -all things considered- welcome they were receiving, it looked like its people were doing well. Or, at the very least, knew how to make it look so.
Eddie walked to the front and stood next to Rasp. The sheriff left them with his deputy, who looked less than pleased to have them around. Crossing his arms, he looked Rasp in the eyes and gave her a small nod, advising caution. There was always more to things than what was apparent, and caution saves more lives than luck could ever aspire to. He stood in the back, silent, waiting for the others to ask their questions and speak their peace first. Now was not the time for initiative, and listening to the rest hopefully help him understand them better.
This lad's pretty good at his profession, thought Eddie as Cor inspected his eye. In his years as a Warpup, other than first aid and basic wound treatment, advanced treatment fell on the Therapy dogs. And amongst those, none were quite as effective as Surehands. The old man was a machine; after battle it wasn't a question of if Surehands would fix you up, but when. His expertise had saved Eddie more times than he probably deserved.
Cor's thoroughness brought memories of Surehands back; stitching up open wounds, anesthetizing before an operation, and, of course, the regular rant against using dogfood. One would recon that it'd be a good idea taking the advice of the man that's saved your life more times than you can count, but Eddie was young and foolish back then. Now he was just the latter.
"It feels a little sore when I move it, but otherwise it doesn't bugger me." Which, as he was taught ages ago meant that the possibilities of infection were low. He already thought -and hoped- that it was nothing, but he wanted a second opinion, and given Cor's more than competent description of his eye his doubts extinguished. At around that moment the wagon slowed down and came to a halt. "Looks like we've arrived." Or we're about to be ambushed.
"Thanks fer checkin' on my eye" he said as he got up, smiling, "I owe ya one. If ye need anything while me and Rasp's still around, ye can count on us." And got off the wagon, "I'll check how things look in the front real quick. Lemme know if ye need help with our injured."
---
This particular settlement was neither one of the bigger or the smaller ones Eddie had the chance to encounter. Which was all the worse for them, because raiders liked these kinda towns: Not too small to be worth it, not big enough to deter all but the biggests gangs from attacking. Still, given the rather polite -all things considered- welcome they were receiving, it looked like its people were doing well. Or, at the very least, knew how to make it look so.
Eddie walked to the front and stood next to Rasp. The sheriff left them with his deputy, who looked less than pleased to have them around. Crossing his arms, he looked Rasp in the eyes and gave her a small nod, advising caution. There was always more to things than what was apparent, and caution saves more lives than luck could ever aspire to. He stood in the back, silent, waiting for the others to ask their questions and speak their peace first. Now was not the time for initiative, and listening to the rest hopefully help him understand them better.