Alligator: Death Roll

It rolled with your arm in its jaws and the world became water, mud and tearing. The shoulder came out of its socket before your knife found soft flesh, and you surfaced more drowned than alive, the arm hanging by wet red threads of muscle.

• Arm bound to your chest, dead weight, for 7 days
• Lungs half full of bayou: coughing fits that double you over for 2 days
• /me breathes shallow and wet, the strapped arm motionless, eyes fixed on the water

Recovery Weeks under a surgeon watching for gangrene, and the arm may never answer fully again; untreated, you don't leave the bayou.·Doctor, urgently

The spin wrenched your shoulder clean out of joint while the teeth held fast. Somebody has to put it back, and the putting-back is its own kind of scream.

• Arm in a sling for 6 days once the joint is reset
• Spiral tears around the forearm, stitched and wrapped
• /me holds the arm dead-still against their ribs, breath hissing at every jolt

Recovery 6 days slung with a doctor's resetting and stitching; without, the shoulder sets wrong and pops out again over trifles.·Doctor, urgently

It had your leg when it turned, and your knee turned with it, past the place knees agree to go. Something inside gave with a sound you felt more than heard.

• Knee strapped stiff: no bending it for 5 days, stairs sideways
• Tooth tears above the ankle, stitched
• Walk with a stick and a hard-earned respect for still water

Recovery 5 days strapped under a doctor's care, 8 without, and it may click for a season either way.·Doctor, urgently

It held you under through two full rolls. The wounds where it gripped are ragged, but the worse thing is the bayou you swallowed, you came up vomiting brown water and you can't get warm.

• Wracking wet cough for 3 days; whisper-hoarse voice
• Grip wounds soaked in swamp water: daily carbolic scrubs
• /me sits wrapped in every blanket in camp, still shivering, staring at nothing

Recovery 3 days by a fire with a doctor watching your lungs; untreated, the water-fever takes hold by night two.·Doctor, urgently

The teeth held while the body turned, and every puncture became a short, curved tear. A dozen small wounds that all pull open the same direction whenever you reach for anything.

• Stitches across the gripped limb, no lifting, roping or hauling for 4 days
• Wounds pull when you stretch: move like an old man or bleed
• A distinctive spiral of scars that marks you as a death-roll survivor

Recovery 4 days stitched with a doctor, 6 without and every scar wider for it.·Doctor required

You kept your feet under you somehow, and the roll spent its force twisting your shoulder instead of tearing it out. The joint stayed home; everything around it is howling.

• Arm in a sling for 3 days; no gun work on that side
• Deep bruising from grip and torque, shoulder to wrist
• /me rolls the shoulder gingerly and immediately regrets the experiment

Recovery 3 days slung and linimented with a doctor, 5 stubborn days without.·Doctor required

The world went around four times with you in its teeth. You broke free with torn grip wounds and a head that hasn't stopped turning yet, you've been sick twice and the ground won't hold still.

• Dizzy spells for 2 days: no riding fast, no rooftops, no ladders
• Grip wounds cleaned and wrapped; keep them out of the water
• /me steadies themselves against a post, waiting for the world to quit rolling

Recovery 2 days for the head, 4 for the wounds under a doctor's washing; longer for both alone.·Doctor required

It rolled once, lost purchase in the mud, and let go to seek a better grip that you didn't stay to offer. Crush bruising rings the limb, and your ankle turned badly in the scramble out.

• Ring of deep bruising: the limb is stiff and weak for 3 days
• Turned ankle wrapped tight; limp on rough ground
• Trousers and shirt shredded down one side, the tailor eats well this week

Recovery 3 days of rest and wrapping with a doctor, 5 if you keep working through it.·Doctor required

Halfway through the roll it decided you weren't worth the trouble and released. You corkscrewed into the mud with punctures where it gripped and dignity nowhere to be found.

• Punctures cleaned and plugged; sore limb for 2 days
• Every joint aches from the wrenching, old-man noises when you stand
• /me wrings a pint of bayou out of their hat without comment

Recovery 2 days with a doctor's once-over, 3 without.·Doctor advised

The wounds are shallow, it barely had you, but the roll put you under and you drank deep. Your chest gurgles when you laugh, so don't.

• Wet cough and waterlogged wheeze for 2 days
• Shallow grip wounds; whiskey-washed and wrapped
• /me coughs into a fist, grimaces, and spits something the color of the swamp

Recovery 2 days drying out by a fire; a doctor's listen to the lungs is cheap peace of mind.·Doctor advised

One violent turn, and your grip on the cypress root held better than its grip on you. You're stretched, strained and scraped from wrist to knee, like laundry that fought the wringer.

• Full-body soreness: everything done slowly for 2 days
• Scrapes down one side, cleaned with more ceremony than needed
• The cypress root gets a grateful pat every time you pass it

Recovery A day or two of moving carefully; nothing a doctor would charge much for.·Doctor advised

The roll churned the shallows to soup and it lost you in its own murk. You crawled out with grip bruises, a face full of silt and eyes that burn like you've been crying over onions.

• Red, streaming eyes for a day: no sharpshooting, lots of blinking
• Bruised where the jaws held; tender to lean on
• /me blinks hard against the light, eyes rimmed red with bayou grit

Recovery A day of eye-baths and rest; two if you rub them, which you will.·Doctor advised

It got half a roll out of you before your boot found its snout. Wrenched wrist, bruised ribs, and a boot print you'd frame if you could.

• Wrapped wrist: weak grip on that side for 2 days
• Bruised ribs complain when you laugh or mount up
• The boot that kicked it is retired from polishing, battle honors

Recovery 2 days of wrapping and care; it fades on its own if you let it.·Doctor advised

It started the roll; you didn't finish it. Torn sleeve, scraped forearm, one long moment eye-to-eye underwater that you'll be seeing at night for a while.

• Scraped forearm under a wrap for a day
• Sleeps poorly tonight, the eye in the murk keeps coming back
• /me stares into their coffee, sleeves rolled down for once

Recovery A day for the arm; the dreams keep their own schedule.·No doctor needed

One turn and it released like it tasted something it didn't care for. Superficial grip marks and a thorough baptism in bayou mud, sinuses included.

• Grip marks wrapped for a day, more for show than need
• Sneezing swamp for an afternoon; smell it everywhere
• Deeply insulted by the implication of being spat out

Recovery A hot bath and a day, the insult heals slowest.·No doctor needed

The roll soaked you to the marrow and scraped you on a sunken log, but the teeth never got a proper purchase. You lost the fight with the water and won the one that mattered.

• Log scrapes along one side; stings under a wet shirt
• Everything you own is soaked: powder, matches, tobacco, pride
• /me lays out their worldly possessions on a rock to dry, cursing softly

Recovery A day of drying, you and the kit both.·No doctor needed

It committed to the spin just as you reached the reed bed, and the roll shoved you up the bank instead of down under. Muddy, breathless, reed-whipped, and alive out of sheer geography.

• Fine red welts from the reeds across face and hands for a day
• Winded: hands-on-knees breathing for a few minutes after
• A new appreciation for reed beds, expressed at length to anyone nearby

Recovery By tomorrow only the welts remember it.·No doctor needed

The jaws slid on wet oilskin as it turned, and the roll launched you free instead of under. You hit the bank rolling and came up already running.

• One shredded oilskin coat, it died so you didn't
• Bruised hip from the landing; sit down carefully today

Recovery Nothing but the coat, and no doctor sews oilskin.·No doctor needed

It rolled; you bit, gouged, elbowed and blasphemed until it reconsidered the whole arrangement. You walked out of the shallows backward, dripping and pointing a finger at it like a loaded gun.

• Knuckles scraped on gator hide for a day
• /me levels a finger at the water line, daring it to try again
• Witnesses are already arguing over which parts actually happened

Recovery A stiff drink and dry clothes cover the whole bill.·No doctor needed

When it spun, you spun with it, some drowned-cat instinct turning you inside its turn, and its teeth closed on nothing but your saddle blanket. You came up on the far side standing in waist-deep water, holding a gator tooth that came loose in the blanket weave.

• Not one wound on you, the saddle blanket is a martyr
• A genuine gator tooth on a cord: the finest brag in three parishes
• /me turns the white tooth over in their fingers, letting it catch the light

Recovery Nothing to heal; the story is already growing on its own.·No doctor needed