Once the wound was packed, Akela handed Sartin the thread and needle. The fern leaves helped stop the bleeding while Sartin stitched the wound closed. The chief continued to writhe in pain while Sartin darned the hole in his body. When he was done, Sartin washed the chief’s torso with clean water.
Pika’s breathing slowed and became less labored. Soon, his body relaxed in sleep after the ordeal. Wikolia broke free from her crowd and returned to her husband’s side. Sartin nodded when his gaze met Maru’s. She took her son’s place, resting her mate’s head in her lap.
“Will he live, Kamohoali’i?” someone asked from the crowd.
“That is in the Princess’s hands now. I’ve done all I can. We should move the chief inside and let himrest.”
The men lifted Maru’s father off the ground and into his hut. When Kekoa came out of the hut, he said, “We must continue our preparations while Chief Pika heals.” The crowd dispersed at his command.