Two Crows Watch from the Gallows Tree (part 3)

Sera slid the blades between one of the links and snipped. There was a moment of resistance, then the chains fell away. "That's that," she said with a satisfied nod. "What brave soul will let me come near them with these monsters now?"

Pratik let out a sigh of relief, not even trying to catch the collar as it fell on the cot next to him then clattered to the floor. He grabbed his neck without thinking about it, breath hitching in his chest when he realized how badly it hurt. He shouldn't have done that.

But he wasn't going to admit that, or make a big deal of it.

He looked back at the others, hesitantly lowering his hands. "It doesn't hurt."

"Yes, it does," Rickard murmured.
"I'll go next," Ada told Pratik, reluctantly pulling at her collar. Sera approached slowly, then raised the cutters and snipped the collar away. Ada probed at her neck more gingerly than Pratik had, wincing.

"It won't get better if you don't let her," Pratik said gently, looking at Rickard. "She can bandage us up once the collars are gone."

Rickard's shoulders were hunched, but he shut his eyes again with a shuddering breath and delicately held his collar away. Sera came up and, much more carefully than with the other two (that was saying something) she cut it away. Rickard whimpered as if expecting it to hurt, but as the collar fell into his lap he let out a short breath, and he opened his eyes.

Pratik nodded encouragingly, noticing how much easier the gesture was now that the damnable collar was off. "It's okay."

Rickard stared down at the length of chain in his lap, still trembling with the anticipation of what hadn't come. He said nothing, tears pricking at his eyes. Ada watched him in silence. Sera stepped away and busied herself preparing disinfectant and gauze for the three of them.

Pratik decided to give him a moment to collect himself, and turned his attention back on Sera. "Thank you. It already feels so much better."

"Good." She sat down beside him and dipped her cloth into the disinfectant. "This will actually sting a bit, so try to hold still. I apologize in advance."

"Thanks for the warning," Pratik said. He lifted his chin, refusing to cower even a little, and clenched his teeth, determined to take it without making a sound.

Sera began to gently wash his wounds, brow furrowed in concentration. "These look partway infected," she mused. "Did you get any care at all?"

Pratik's jaw was clenched, face hard as he glared straight ahead. He forced himself to swallow and braced himself so that his voice wouldn't waver or betray a whimper, despite how agonizing this was. "We got as much care as you'd imagine Tarr would give his slaves."

"But the apothecary didn't help you at all?" There was a controlled anger in her tone, but it wasn't directed at him. "Gods, that place is more far gone than I thought."

"He gave me salve, once," Pratik answered. It wasn't Alexander's fault that Tarr was a monster. Well, he did stay in Tarr's employ. He wondered if that was voluntary. "But there wasn't much he could do, while the collar was still actively making it worse... at least that was my impression. I don't know much about medicine."

"Ah, Alexander." Sera hummed to herself. "He always struck me as being a few birds short of a pigeon pie, but he's not terrible. A bit frank in his words but well-meaning."