The small, dimly lit infirmary at the orphanage was filled with the faint aroma of herbs and the flicker of candlelight. Sister Annie bustled about with a mixture of worry and practiced care, her hands moving deftly as she prepared a poultice. Nero sat on the edge of a makeshift cot, wincing as she dabbed at his bruised chest with a cloth soaked in warm water.
"You boys," she said, her voice tight but gentle, "always finding trouble. One of these days, you're going to give me a heart attack."
"It wasn't our fault this time," Finn muttered, sitting nearby with a bloodied lip. "They started it."
Sister Annie shot him a sharp glance. "And you thought the best response was to start a brawl in the middle of the village? You're lucky none of you ended up with broken bones!"
Will sat cross-legged on the floor, poking at a fresh scrape on his knee. "They deserved it," he murmured. "Bullies like Billy always do."
Finn added on," And it wasn't in the middle of the village."
Charlie, lying on another cot, groaned dramatically. "Deserved or not, I'm pretty sure my knuckles will never be the same." He held up his hand, the skin raw and swollen.
Nero remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. He felt the weight of the day's events pressing down on him, heavier than the pain in his ribs. Sister Annie noticed his quietness and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
"Nero," she said softly, "does it hurt too much? Do you want me to stop for a moment?"
He shook his head, finally looking up at her. "I'm fine, Sister Annie. Really."
Her eyes softened, but she didn't press further. Instead, she turned to Finn. "Father Elias has gone to fetch the village doctor. He should be back soon. Until then, you all need to rest—and no more fighting."
"But what if they come back?" Finn asked, his jaw tightening. "We can't just let them push us around."
"And fighting will solve that?" Sister Annie countered. "Violence only breeds more violence, Finn. You need to be smarter than that."
Finn looked away, muttering under his breath, but he didn't argue further.
A knock on the door interrupted the moment, and all heads turned. One of the orphans uninjured Ellie, peeked in hesitantly. "Sister Annie, Father Elias says the doctor will be here soon. He's just checking on Old Man Vick before coming over."
"Thank you, Ellie," Sister Annie said, giving hera warm smile. She turned back to the boys. "See? Help is on the way. Now, stay put and let me finish tending to you."
As she worked, the room fell into a subdued silence. The boys exchanged glances, their earlier bravado now replaced by exhaustion and lingering frustration. Nero leaned back against the cot, his thoughts drifting. Billy's words still echoed in his mind: You're nothing. Nothing.
The small chapel door swung open, letting in a sharp gust of the evening wind as Father Elias returned, a tall figure following close behind him. The man carried a weathered leather bag in one hand and wore a long coat patched at the elbows. His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he stepped inside, shaking off the lingering cold.
"Sister Annie," Father Elias called softly, his voice tinged with relief. "I've brought Dr. Thorne."
The orphans, seated near the hearth with blankets wrapped tightly around them, turned their heads. Dr. Thorne was a familiar face to the children, a man of few words but a steady hand. He had tended to them in the past, his gruff demeanor offset by a quiet kindness.
"Good evening," Dr. Thorne said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet room. His eyes swept over the group, assessing their condition with a practiced gaze. "Who's hurt?"
"Finn and Nero," Sister Annie answered quickly, guiding the doctor toward the makeshift cots. "The others have a few scrapes, but those two took the worst of it."
Dr. Thorne set his bag down beside Finn, who looked away, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "It's nothing, really," Finn muttered, trying to wave off the attention.
"Let me be the judge of that," Dr. Thorne replied firmly, pulling out a small jar of salve and a roll of clean bandages. "Now, sit still."
As the doctor worked, the room was filled with the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional hiss of pain from Finn. Maggie and Elli watched wide-eyed from the corner, whispering to each other. Will and Charlie hovered nearby, ready to assist if needed but keeping their distance to avoid being scolded for crowding.
When Dr. Thorne finally turned to Nero, his expression softened slightly. The boy was clearly in pain, his breathing shallow as he lay back on the cot, clutching his side.
"Let's see it," Dr. Thorne said gently but firmly.
Nero hesitated, glancing at the others. Sister Annie noticed his reluctance and stepped in, her voice soothing. "It's alright, Nero. The doctor is here to help."
Slowly, Nero allowed Dr. Thorne to examine him. The doctor's hands were firm but careful as he pressed around the bruised ribs, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Nero.
"Hmm, that's weird." Dr. Thorne muttered, his brow furrowing. "It's bad, but nothing's broken somehow. You'll need to rest and avoid any heavy activity for at least a week, understand?"
Nero nodded, his face pale but resolute. "Yes, sir."
The doctor cleaned and dressed Nero's wounds, his movements efficient yet gentle. "You've been through worse winters," Dr. Thorne remarked quietly, as if to himself. "But you're a tough one, I'll give you that."
Once he finished, Dr. Thorne stood and addressed Father Elias and Sister Annie. "They'll recover, but Finn and Nero need time to heal. Keep them warm, make sure they eat well, and keep an eye out for signs of fever or infection."
Father Elias nodded, his expression one of gratitude. "Thank you, Dr. Thorne. Your help is invaluable."
Dr. Thorne packed up his bag and gave the children one last glance. "You lot take care of each other. No more scrapping if you can help it."
As the doctor left, the room settled into a heavy silence. The fire's glow illuminated the weary faces of the orphans, and for a moment, they all seemed lost in their own thoughts. Nero closed his eyes, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of their earlier fight. Yet beneath the pain, a flicker of warmth remained—the unwavering bond he shared with the others.
Father Elias sighed as he closed the door behind the doctor. He turned to the boys, his expression stern but not unkind. "What happened today?"
"They started it," Finn said immediately.
Father Elias raised an eyebrow. "And you finished it, I assume?"
Charlie smirked despite the scolding tone, but Finn shifted uncomfortably under the priest's gaze. "They hurt Nero," Finn said finally. "We couldn't just let them get away with it."
Father Elias's expression softened slightly. "I understand wanting to protect each other. But you must also learn restraint. There are other ways to stand up for yourselves without resorting to violence."
"But what if they don't stop?" Nero asked quietly, his voice barely audible. All eyes turned to him. "What if they just keep coming back?"
Father Elias walked over and crouched in front of Nero, his kind eyes meeting the boy's troubled gaze. "Then we deal with it together," he said firmly. "You're not alone, Nero. None of you are. This is your family, and we face our struggles as one."
Later that night, as the boys lay in their beds, the orphanage was unusually quiet. Nero stared up at the ceiling, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden shutters. His chest ached, but it was the uncertainty in his heart that kept him awake.
Finn's voice finally broke the silence. "We'll make them pay next time," he whispered from his bed.
"No, we won't," Will said firmly. "Next time, we'll be ready. But we won't stoop to their level."
Nero didn't respond. He turned onto his side, clutching the thin blanket tightly. As his eyes drifted shut, a single thought lingered in his mind: Is it possible to fight back without becoming like them?