Dean stood
still for a few moments, allowing the anger and despair to flow through
him. He needed the strength from the
anger. The man walked around the area,
finding Sam’s shotgun. The duffel had
been thrown a ways from his brother.
Dean took his knife and began looking for a better group of trees and
limbs than where he was attacked. He cut
a large number of branches, dragging them to where Sam lay unconscious.
The older
man found a lot of plant life that looked and felt like rope. He had no idea what it was, but was grateful
for it. Dean turned his brother over
onto his back. He made a splint and set
the leg. Sam screamed. The older man jumped when it happened. He turned the flashlight to look at his brother’s face. Sam was still unconscious. Dean bandaged his brother’s head and left him
lying where he’d found him.
For the
next hour or so, Dean made a stretcher from the branches, vines, and leaves he
found in the canyon. He could tell the
sun had risen but the sky was gray. He
looked up at the clouds and hoped it would not rain.
Exhaustion
was setting in and the pain from the scratches began to intensify. Dean realized he was stupid not have taken
care of that, but his fear over Sam blotted it out of his mind. Going to the duffel with the first aid kit,
He took out water, the bottle of whiskey, and some antiseptic ointment. It was difficult to tend to the wounds on the
back of his leg, but he did the best he could.
He tied the shotguns to Sam’s duffel and laid it on the stretcher.
Taking a
deep breath, Dean lifted his brother and placed him on the stretcher. He carefully tied the young man to the
stretcher to keep him from falling off.
Walking towards the head of the stretcher, Dean leaned down and picked
up the handles that were the remainder of the sides of the framework. Gritting his teeth, he turned to where his
back was toward the stretcher and began to drag it.
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