The Great Black Marsh, pt 2

Doc is quick on the draw as he pulls his pistol into position, but the snake reacts to the threat just as swiftly. The speed of its movement surprises Doc, causing his shot to go a bit wide, splattering mud into the air. The snake dives towards his foot and bites into his shin.

Doc yelps in pain as the sharp teeth hit bone. The snake strikes again, this time hitting flesh. His calf goes numb as the snakes venom enters his blood. He vainly tries to knock the thing away with his pistol.

The snake rears back once again, flattens its head, and practically throws its self at Doc. It goes wide and ends up turned around confused. Doc takes the opportunity to back off and aim his pistol. One well placed shot neatly smashes the snake's head into tiny pieces.

"Thunderhorse!" calls Doc. "Donnerpferd! Whatever the hell your name is," Doc mumbles agitatedly as he switches the translator back on. Thunderhorse had already turned around to watch Doc dispatch the water moccasin. He collects the muddy cloth and escorts Lightning towards Doc.

"Was that your thunder sling?" Thunderhorse asks, observing the remains of the snake with extreme caution.

"Yeah. Can you get me the medicine box?" Doc asks. Thunderhorse complies. Doc feels the poison in his leg, and the numbness is starting to spread. Doc is able to ignore it for now, but it won't be long before it gets worse.

Doc sits down in the mud with the medical kit. He expertly treats the snake bite on his calf and bandages up his wounds. Meanwhile, Thunderhorse inspects the remains of the snake. He refuses to get too close to it, though.

"Fucking snakes. I hate them," he mumbles.

When he's finished with his leg, Doc collects the snake's remains. He drains it's blood, wraps it in a bit of cloth, and slips it into the saddlebag.

The two head up to the corduroy road and have a seat on a sand covered log. Doc looks up and down the road. The woods are thick and the road curves around the large marshy puddles in the swamp, but it leads towards Toledo. Doc can find no sign of people within his field of view or range of hearing.

Doc reloads his pistol as they rest. He cleans the mud off his suit as much as he can. He retrieves the flintlock rifle from the muddy cloth, inspects it, and rams a ball and powder into the muzzle.

Doc contacts the ship. "Yes, sir?" the Host speaks to Doc through his I-Browse.

"Can you replicate some equipment and send it down to us? I need some more first aid kits and a flare gun."

"Negative, sir. The only option for delivery is to launch a torpedo into your vicinity, and I have neither the programming nor the clearance to perform such an operation. You'll have to return to the Pu for supplies."

"Acknowledged," replies Doc.

The sun is high in the sky and is beginning to break through the dark clouds. After a twenty minute break, Thunderhorse begins to grow impatient. "Are we sitting here all day crying over your leg?"