He wiped his mouth when he finished, the bitter taste in his mouth an echo of his bitter thoughts as he re-entered the cave. He'd have to do better than this, if he wanted to keep the two of them alive! He went to the spring for water, put some on the lamp to heat, then braced himself and knelt beside his patient. Tarlac's wounds were oozing thick greenish-yellow fluid that would have to be cleaned off, as often as Dave could force himself to endure the sight and rotten-cabbage stench. At least the medikit had surgical gloves, he thought as he put a pair on, so he wouldn't have to touch the stuff or risk getting the poison into his own system through a cut or hangnail. Tarlac woke to a smell so bad it made him gag, and eyes that felt glued shut, so he couldn't see whatever seemed to be scrubbing his chest with a metal brush dipped in acid. He started to protest, trying to sit up, but the only result was a wave of dizziness and nausea. When he gave up on that and tried to rub his eyes, the scrubbing stopped and hands grabbed his wrists. "Don't--you'll just make it worse." Dave was unpleasantly surprised at how easy it was to restrain his patient. "Your eyes are all crusted over--I'll need to soak them to soften the crusts." He put a warm, wet cloth over the Ranger's eyes, then went on. "I'll finish cleaning you up while those soften. I did your back while you were asleep." The scrubbing started again, and Tarlac let out a yell. Dave stopped. "I'm being as careful and gentle as I can, sir. I don't want to hurt you, but I do have to get you clean." He frowned. "It won't make you better, though. All it'll do is keep you from getting worse as fast--but there's nothing else I can do." Tarlac sighed, managing not to groan. "Your best is all I can expect, Dave. I'll try to be quiet about it." "Yes, sir." Dave went back to work, grateful that the injuries, bad as they were, were limited to the Ranger's upper body. If Tarlac had been beaten all over with the poisoned whip, he probably wouldn't have survived the night. This way, he had a chance of lasting until he could get real medical help. Not much of a chance, Dave thought grimly as he began cleaning his patient's eyes, but a chance. "There," he said at last. "You should be able to open them now." Tarlac did manage, though it took most of his strength. His vision was blurred at first, but blinking soon cleared it enough for him to see the strain in his rescuer's face. Well, he probably wasn't looking too good himself, he thought--and that stink! "What's the smell?" Dave grimaced, pulling a clean blanket up over Tarlac's shoulders. "Stingweed poison, sort of. You don't want to see what it looks like." He shrugged. "It does have one advantage, though. It'll heep animals away, so that's one thing we won't have to worry about." "I can certainly understand that," Tarlac said dryly. "I'd certainly keep my distance from a prospective dinner that smelled this bad."