Lost Creek Hollow look at me, i am old but i am happy

now that fun-police/ex-milkmaid had retired to serving them part-time, sionnach had a lot more time on her hands to make trouble. she had gotten exceptionately good at being sneaky. her new favorite past-time was watching her parents patiently, waiting until their attention was somewhere else -- and the second it was, sionnach would bolt from the den like a greased pig being shown the fryer.

she had just managed to give her parents the slip (kek, stupid old people), and was sitting a little too far from the den than was probably appropriate. her nose had told her to come here, and she couldn't even see the den anymore. she was more interested, however, in the massive shape in front of her.

it moved with the same ponderous steps as aengus, but was about twice as fat (a titanian feat, really, given aengus was so fat he couldn't even be a saturn because the rings wouldn't fit). it was almost the same color; a cool, ashy grey brown -- and it had eyes that were hard and flat and totally watching her as it nibbled on a patch of clover.

oh, i forgot to mention the most important part. it had spikes.

about fifteen thousand of them.

whssh, whsssh, it went as it moved, dragging the bizarre carapace of what sionnach assumed were just funky twigs behind it. it did not seem afraid of her, and she was not afraid of it: she had a great life so far, and the only bad thing to happen to her was that aengus hogged all the good bedspace.

so, sionnach did what any self-respecting, nosy puppy would do. she demanded it play with her. pouncing up to it like a coltish but clumsy gemsbok, sionnach yapped right in the twigman's face, insistent he stop stuffing his face and PLAY WITH HER, RIGHT MCFREAKIN NOW!

she didn't even have time to close her yap before it came.. you guessed it...

The Big

 

THWACK!!

sionnach was flung aside by something extraordinarily powerful and painful. it came at her like a 2x4 out of hell, rigid as steel and carrying thousands of nails with it.  for a fat fucker, it moved surprisingly quick: sionnach screamed as she felt a thousand pin-pricks across her nose and face, assaulting her senses with overwhelming agony. what was worse was these thousand little quills were steadfastedly embedded in her beautiful face; she rubbed and writhed and tried to escape them, but no matter how much she scratched at her face, they remained like fiery thorns only digging deeper.

and then the little prick (hah, no pun intended) shuffled past the caterwauling child, oblivious to the harm it had caused. there was a band of fresh clover not so far from the cub, so he moved past her at a leisurely pace. once he reached the patch, he settled over the verdant greens and munched contemplatively.

meanwhile, sionnach rolled in the dirt not twenty feet away in ceaseless agony.

He heard the screams, and they sent him running.

Gannet had seen the work of porcupines before, and just as he'd removed the quills from Joss, he knew what had happened and what needed done as soon as he set eyes on Sionnach. The culprit was ignored for now.... Gannet knew it was no danger so long as they kept away. Something apparently the pup had learned the hard way.

Gannet approached and dropped to his belly in front of her with a soft whine, inviting her to come closer so that he could look. Let me help, he said quietly. He did not want to frighten her any more than she already had been, and his mind was already running over the options. First, removal. Then, perhaps something for the pain.

<3

there's an expression sionnach had fatedly yet to be introduced to up until that moment: it goes along the lines of, "in a world of pain". never, until that very moment, had the expression been so painfully poignant.

she was too busy dirtying herself rolling in the dirt to notice gannet; her pelt was shoddy and dusty, her face streaming hot with tears -- worst of all, she wore a literal mask quills. it was a bizarre, grotesque facade worse than any masque of the red death.

she did not quit as gannet came to her; his whine went unaddressed, mostly because there were mo-frickin' hundreds of quills digging into sionnach's angelic, undeserving face -- that and, she was so busy screaming in horror that she could scarcely be still.

With his increased patrols, Rannoch had found himself more tired lately. He figured that the kids were fine, and decided to take advantage of the momentary peace. All was fine until he was jolted awake by the sound of Sionnach's screams—no more than three minutes after he had closed his eyes. 

"Sionnach?!" he asked, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he quickly scanned the den. She wasn't here. Without thinking, Rannoch picked himself up and looked to his other children. "Stay here," he told them sternly, meeting each of their gazes. Then, without any further confirmation from his children, Rannoch exited the den to see what had caused his daughter's blood-curdling screams. 

Gannet had already arrived, and Rannoch was thankful—but this didn't quiet his concern. Rushing to the medic's side, he looked at his daughter and felt his heart drop. She had been caught on the wrong end of a porcupine, and he should have been there to protect her. 

"Sionnach," he said, silently thankful that it hadn't been worse. "It'll be okay, sweetie. Daddy's here. Gannet here is going to help you." Rannoch shot Gannet a thankful look, before returning his attention to his youngest child. "You gotta let Gannet do his job, though. It's going to hurt a little, sweetie, but I'm here now. It's going to be okay."

At first Gannet was surprised by Rannoch's appearance, then he was discouraged by it. He took a step back, unsure if he should continue or depart and let him handle this. It hadn't struck him initially that this took a healer's care - there was no herblore involved, just attention to detail.

Fortunately Rannoch indicated he expected the pale man to stay and help, because he'd been prepared to leave them be. He was a stranger after all to her, and she was not calming enough for him to attempt anything. Her twisting would only make things worse in the end, though, he noted with concern.

Hold her, he directed Rannoch, and assuming the leader did so Gannet would waste no time. He would carefully plant his paw against her cheek, where no quills dwelt, and begin to quickly grasp the offenders near their base as he could and yank industriously out.

on a good day, Sionnach was about as obliging as a mule that missed supper. on a bad day, she was downright intractable. 

just so happened that getting your face ballista-missiled by hundreds of angry quills constituted wholly in the “bad day” category. 

she was in an absolute fit as her father came, trying his best to console his writhing daughter. even as she was flipped and forced to the ground, Sionnach still fought fiercely — pinned as she was, the girl had no one recourse besides loud wails of hollering anguish.

"Alright," Rannoch replied quietly. He then turned towards Sionnach, and exhaled; he hated seeing her in so much pain. 

"Alright, sweetie," Rannoch said, "We're going to need you to stay put. Can you do that for us?" He moved then, placing a paw gently on her back. Rannoch felt Sionnach wither underneath him, and he reposition himself so that he held her between his paws. There was no way that Rannoch was going to get her to stay completely still, but he figured that this sufficed. 

He looked to Gannet then and nodded—a silent confirmation that he had her somewhat under control.

He worked as quickly as he could while still remaining careful, pulling each out with a practiced speed. This time was easier than with Joss. The male had held it together better, but after removing his, he'd learned how best to pull.

He felt badly for her, but that guilt was easily set aside and didn't affect what he felt he needed to do. He paid careful attention to her cries and her state, checking at times if he needed to pause, but he didn't balk at causing pain. In the end this would be better.

When he was able to finish, he gave a few gentle cleaning licks, then turned it over to Rannoch. I should go find something, he said, though it was more retrieve. He knew where it was, as her seen it the day before.

"NO!" sionnach of course protested, being powerless in her father's grip. for all the writhing she did, nothing came of it -- both adults were relentless in keeping her contained. gannet's shadow draped her form as he worked, and he did so with a precision that sionnach could not appreciate, only because each time he plucked a quill from her face, it let loose a torrent of burning agony. "GO'WAY!" she screamed into gannet's face, trying to turn her head away from him to no avail.

she lacked the adult's experience with pain (it goes away, it's going to be worse before it's better, sometimes you have to endure more pain to erase it, etc) so, naturally, she was screaming the entire time gannet methodically worked besides her father. when at last the final quill was plucked from her face, sionnach wasn't a white puppy anymore -- her face was red, swollen like a cast-away tomato -- and streaked with hot tears.

"My girl, my sweet, sweet girl," Rannoch hummed, knowing that his attempts to calm her were in vain. Sionnach was hyperfocused on her current plight, which was understandable given the situation. "You're a strong, brave girl," she would prevail and be back to mischief as soon as this was over, "And you're doing such a good job." A blatant lie—she was screaming bloody murder. 

When Gannet excused himself, Rannoch nodded. "Thank you," he replied, keeping his eyes on his daughter. Without the medic in his line of sight, Rannoch was faced with the aftermath of Sionnach's shenanigans. She resembled a ripe tomato, her cheeks inflated and washed in scarlet. Despite the pain she was in, Rannoch couldn't help but find the light in the situation—her appearance was amusing, but he'd never remark on it. 

"Gannet will be right back, and this will all be over," he assured her, gritting his teeth as he held back his true feelings.

Some wounded animals accepted help and some screamed and clawed and scratched and fought. Sionnach it seemed was the latter, but Gannet was completely unfazed. He had placidly completed his work, but now that he went to seek soothing, he did move faster.

Pain, infection, and swelling. These were the things he brought remedy for, one to be eaten, one to be applied. The first when he returned he set down in front of her, pushing it and nodding to Rannoch. It will help. he explained. Then he chewed the others, grinding them together into a salve he could use to clean her face. It would sting a bit, but once on, it should quell the fire in her cheek.

yes, sionnach was a strong, brave girl, and one thing strong, brave girls did is that they let nobody tell them what to do. naturally, given her face had just been given a lift by virtue of hundreds of little quills, sionnach was letting no one tell her what to do -- not even her father, who just wanted to console her.

while gannet was off looking for soothing herbs, sionnach became morosely quiet. most of the suffering and pain had eased over into shock, which made the normally unmalleable girl alarmingly compliant. all of her sobbing had given way to a deadened, thousand-yard-stare look, and while she was propped between her father's large paws, all sionnach could do was stare ahead in dull, denatured shock.

Gannet returned with an assortment of herbs, none of which Rannoch knew what remedies they provided. As the medic pushed the herbs closer, the leader became perplexed. He wasn't quite sure what he needed to do with what he had been given, and his expression betrayed his confusion. 

"What do I need to do with this?" Rannoch asked, noticing that Gannet was grinding his portion into a paste. Was that what he needed to do, too?

Ah, he'd forgotten to specify. She should eat it. When she can. It didn't need to happen now, but as soon as she was feeling better, it would help some. For now, it was Gannet's turn.

He knew that her quietness, instinctively, was a warning sign, but Gannet didn't have it in him to panic. In all things, he always knew that the most he could do was his best, so he methodically began to use the paste he'd made to gently clean her face and wherever the quills had hit. He did so slowly to prevent further damage but also to try and calm her.... hopefully the actions and the soothing herbs would bring the reaction down. They would at least prevent further infection.

luckily for sionnach, gannet was a capable healer. long term, the worst the girl would suffer was a brief assault to her pride. short-term, things were a bit more dire: tomorrow her face would become swollen and lumpy, and a few days after the swelling would finally break. her shock would be short-lived, and mostly one of mental exhaustion.

she was demure and placid as gannet worked; once he was done her father carried her back to the den gently. placed protectively between her siblings, sionnach would refuse play, instead staring at the wall for some time before exhaustion (and its cousin, sleep) finally overtook her.