Meanwhile, aboard the steamship headed to the United States of Avalonia, Poul carefully examined Penelope's wound, making sure to clean it with antiseptic before re-dressing it. He knew that infections were a common risk with stab wounds, especially when they were inflicted with a dirty or rusted weapon.
As he worked, Penelope lay still on the bed, her eyes closed in pain. Poul couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sadness and worry for her. He just stabbed the person he loved the most and seeing them in pain add salt to that wound.
Penelope's eyes suddenly fluttered open, and she looked up at Poul. Her face was pale, and she looked weak, but her eyes held a spark of determination.
"Poul," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think you have done well enough on dressing my wounds. Don't worry, I'll take care of it once we are in the United States."
