Abigail Clark went to the hospital that night feeling invigorated. She hadn’t wanted to go, but her nephew had started the trip out as soon as he’d heard what was happening. Of course, the trip was a long one, and he insisted that she stay the night for observation, but after the things she’d done to survive, she wasn’t about to listen to a man she didn’t believe could’ve made it out of there himself. 

            She did, after being examined, borrow a hospital wheelchair and roll through the floor that the hospital had dedicated to the victims of the beaver attack. They were laid out in beds, lying on their stomachs and getting the vaccines prodded into their rears. 

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