CHULANE
He was totally demented, beaten and bloody, his words barely making sense to Chulane. As he tried to run, and then fell, and then retched, the farmer only took a step back, as he might if an animal was behaving unruly before him. Silently, he just watched as the boy proceeded to declare himself without need for assistance, for help, only to prove though his drunken actions once more that help was the least thing he clearly needed.
Chulane had spent his whole life uncomfortably close to alcoholics. Australia had a culture where alcohol drinking was rampant, where it was considered 'normal' to be plastered drunk every weekend, and some weekdays too. It was why he himself avoided the substance, not only hating the sensation of loss of control over himself, but also the effects his lack of inhibitions might have on others. He just couldn't stand himself if he were to be told stories of things he had done with no memory of having done them.
He was so aware of the danger he was putting himself into, as he stepped near and squatted by the boy, throwing the blanket over the hunched shoulders, and then reaching to grab a hold of his elbow, gripping firmly so that he might pluck another cloth from his pockets and use it to protect his own fingers as he made to extract the glass that was slicing up Korbin's hand. He hoped the boy was too drunk to get another shot in - Chulane had no desire to be struck again. Should he be successful in this, he would then wrap the cloth as tight as he could manage about Korbin's hand, and then make to rise himself, still clutching to the lad's elbow.
"Get up," he ordered in a deep, booming voice. "Now." he followed-up just to be sure, before making to walk with the boy still firmly in his grip slowly but surely towards the lodge.
Chulane had spent his whole life uncomfortably close to alcoholics. Australia had a culture where alcohol drinking was rampant, where it was considered 'normal' to be plastered drunk every weekend, and some weekdays too. It was why he himself avoided the substance, not only hating the sensation of loss of control over himself, but also the effects his lack of inhibitions might have on others. He just couldn't stand himself if he were to be told stories of things he had done with no memory of having done them.
He was so aware of the danger he was putting himself into, as he stepped near and squatted by the boy, throwing the blanket over the hunched shoulders, and then reaching to grab a hold of his elbow, gripping firmly so that he might pluck another cloth from his pockets and use it to protect his own fingers as he made to extract the glass that was slicing up Korbin's hand. He hoped the boy was too drunk to get another shot in - Chulane had no desire to be struck again. Should he be successful in this, he would then wrap the cloth as tight as he could manage about Korbin's hand, and then make to rise himself, still clutching to the lad's elbow.
"Get up," he ordered in a deep, booming voice. "Now." he followed-up just to be sure, before making to walk with the boy still firmly in his grip slowly but surely towards the lodge.
it is better to know some of the questions
than all of the answers
than all of the answers
