Stone Circle Rage and Grief beset

Inkeri ran with @faun and @germanicus breathlessly she urged them towards the patriarch of the pack lands Gunnar. The old man standing vigil by teh boy @Aquillius

Gunnar alternated keeping the boy warm and dry. Trying to rouse him if he needed to. But darkness had closed in. He gave a yelp of relief when the runner Inkeri arrived with the healer.

Thank goodness. I only know so much. Was his quiet words.

I'll play Gunnar on this one and bring him in later. For now you can consider him as a cameo and Inkeri has dispersed.

With @Germanicus in step behind her, Faun marched through the pack lands, a woman on a mission, her steps sure and her eyes focused.

The male who greeted them was older, standing vigil. At his feet, a dark scrap of fur. In the dark, Faun could see he was young, far too young, skinny with travel and little eating, twitching occasionally but sleeping as deep as he could. She could smell the sickness of beginning infection, and she decided in that moment that hell or high water, she didn’t care.

This boy would live. He would see sunrise, then a thousand more. She dipped her head gratefully to the man who spoke, then set her skin aside.

Her voice hissed out between her teeth as she examined what wounds she could see without moving the boy or crowding him.

The older wounds aren’t canine. Feline, if I had to guess, or avian. The new ones…canid. Her eyes could pick the raw edges of ripped flesh on an already scarred shoulder, but she knew that couldn’t be it. Not with how the messenger had spoken.

germanicus did not think he had been to the heart of the stone circle before.

quietly he followed, though his tactician's mind recorded each detail of the territory as it pertained to protection. or invasion. but he was no longer that man.

indeed, in the next seconds, as he set down his burden and turned toward the crumpled boy on the ground, germanicus would find that his entire world narrowed to a single point under which he only saw aquillius.

"fuck," came the rare hiss, and the roman pushed forward and held a shaking paw above his son's shoulder. "fuck!" he shouted, and in complete opposite of his abilities to be reined, germanicus threw aside the bag of herbal supplies, unthinking in rage and anger and grief and self-hatred.

he sank down in silence, not daring to breathe hardly. "he is my son. save him."

Son.

Son??

Faun stared at the man for a moment in time, only a fluttering of her heart, before she turned to steel beneath his gaze.

Talk to him. He can hear you, even if he’s unconscious. Her words were a near snapped order as she encircled him, her eyes falling to the numerous bites on his haunches, the backs of his legs. 

This was not what you did to a trespasser.

This is what you did to prey.

She snorted, sharp and harsh from her nose.

At the very least he has something fractured or broken in that ankle. Familiarity is what he needs right now. She gestured to the wounds in silence, pacing in a quick circle.

Im going to have to set that ankle. It’s going to be painful. Can you hold him down when I come to that? Or should she call someone else to do it?

The boy let out a faint noise, half a moan, and she set to work on plucking out herbs and mosses and cobwebs. First things first, she had to stop the bleeding, let him be eased in that regard at least. They could worry about bones and mental scars when the boy wasn’t two inches from becoming a eulogy.

but what could he say?

what could he say that would change all the failures that had led his son here, dying of fever far from the canyon?

that the canyon no longer stood.

his jaw shuddered and he came closer, grasping the still hard paw of aquillius between those iron ones he possessed.

shame for his outburst came swift and harsh, but the eagle pushed it away to say, "i am sorry, my son. for all that i was not."

at last he looked to the riverclan woman. "i can hold him."

She didn’t shame him for his grief, but she did not offer him empty platitudes either. Faun focused her efforts on mopping up the blood soaked fur of the boy, pressing moss into the wounds to soak it up, before she would go in with a mixed bag of herbs.

Over and over again she would do this, packing the wounds that needed it with the herbal mixtures to stave off the infection she could smell coming. She strung cobwebs across those wounds, binding them tight.

Then, it came to the leg.

She paused for a moment, staring at the ankle, twisting her head this way and that.

Hold him.

She managed to set the ankle with a few deft strokes, several cobwebs and a nearby stick she dragged in and used her teeth to chop to bits. The process was quick, but the boy reacted, bucking like a mule, snarling like a feral thing, reacting only to the pain he could feel. Faun would manage this as well as she could, staring into that single, feverish eye as it looked at her face, the face of the boy’s father, between them both, before it rolled back and he was gone all over again.

She took a step back.

I have done what I can do externally. My best guess? A fall is what messed up that ankle. He might have broken ribs on that side, but I can’t ask him without him being awake. The thought of rousing the boy only to ask a few questions rankled her.

Or.. She reached over, gently pressing her nose to his ribs. Again, a kick, a strangled cry of pain.

Either bruised or broken. Play it safe, call it broken. The woman stepped back, looking over the boy with pity. She drew a gentle breath.

Its up to him. He has to pull through. If he survives tonight, I’ll bet he sees the next day. But, if he would pull the night through, she could not say definitively.

Whatever did this to him..I don’t want to meet it.

The rips in his haunches alone spoke of a bloodlust she didn’t want to put into words.

his eye.

his body.

germanicus felt the tears rise and angrily he shoved them away. he held aquillius as the healer set the bone, tensing for any sound of pain or writhe. and when it came, the steel-bound strength he had honed for years pinned the would-be general of mereo to the earth, quiet save for the seethe of breath in his throat until the moment passed.

a man should not hold his son as though the younger lay dying upon the field of battle, the eagle thought, reaching to steady the boy's head against the ground.

he was haunted, staring, castigated by a thousand haunting ghosts, as much as he had been with meadow that night of his weakness and the feline.

germanicus wanted to strike the woman for causing the boy more agony, but he saw it only as the answering anguish of the feral creature he too housed in his flesh.

"please inform gunnar i would like to stay until he is recovered," he asked of the healer, noting her face at last. "what is your name? you are clan to crowfeather. i would ask that you hold me in debt."

He cradled the boy in the way of parents, and Faun looked at him with perhaps the greatest pity.

She would not comment on this. Only to his asked question. Her head dipped, low for a moment, before it rose again to regard him with a small smile. Her eyes were far older than her body in that moment, world weary with a thousand memories.

I will tell him. Faun said softly.

My name is Faun. And there is no debt, not for this. She paused, only a moment, then reached out to put her paw on the man’s shoulder, as a doctor comforting a grieving father.

I will make him live. This I cannot promise, but I will make it so. You’ll see your boy healthy again. Faun offered her best reassuring smile, then took a step back, leaving father and son to the den.

@Gunnar ? She would say as she stepped out, looking for the older man who had greeted them.

Gunnar had not moved far. He had stayed to listen. His body creaking and protesting as he finally stood to his feet. He teetered for amoment, but he offered her a warm smile. The stiffness of his limbs the only reason for his poor movement.

Will he live at least? I tried my best. I gave him medicine for fever and staunched some of teh blood, but I am not the healer my mother was.

He looked down regretful that he couldn't do more. Sad that he had been unable to help as much as he had wanted. Anxious that he had not learned more when his mother had been alive and willing to teach.

Faun smiled, the motion tired and tugging at her cheeks.

I’ve given him the best shot I can. The rest is up to him. She tipped her head to the den’s insides.

The man who arrived with me, he’s the boy’s father. He’s requesting to stay until he’s healed. I wish to stay too, after I or someone else inform Crowfeather and Silvertongue of my whereabouts. Then, it occurred to her she had never introduced herself, and she blinked.

Oh! I am Faun, by the way. I didn’t get the chance to say it.

Gunnar nodded. That's usually the way of things. Mother used to tell me she could do miracles, but only if the other wolf was willing to put in the work to heal. He sighed tired and sad, missing his mom.

He may stay. I would not kick him to the borders for his son to lay still. No.

He wondered why the boy hadn't been with his father, but he also knew now was not the time to ask. You are more than welcome to stay as well. If you'd like Inkeri can run a message again. I'm sure she wouldn't mind.

Well met Faun. Gunnar Lodbruk.

If she wouldn’t mind. Her eyes went back to the den, breathing out a soft sigh.

I want to be close in case he crashes during the night. I’m going to fight til the very end for this boy. Faun closed her eyes, then opened them again.

The new wounds…they’re canid. Was anyone with him when he came here? Any scents on his coat? Your messenger said he was raving about demons. She sat there in the mouth of the den, worry stark on her face. What exactly had the boy she had just helped ran into that would hunt him down like that?

Demon, indeed.

Inkeri won't mind. The she wolf enjoyed being helpful and she was a very good scout. And a fast runner.

Gunnar settled back down. When he arrived he was going on about a spider and a demon being upon his tail. I assumed it was the fever talking, but perhaps there is something else to his story. He smelled like open air and stone. As if he had been running for some time. Any scents of other wolves was long gone from him when he arrived here. It was only him that we smelled.

Gunnar closed his eyes. There are some wolves that will attack others, just for pleasure and there are I am sure beasts in the wild, we all don't know about. No one can truly know everything that exists it is too vast a wolf.

She shook her head, slowly, sighing out a breath.

I know. The memory of the girl, her legs trembling, her eyes full of tears, upon the pack lands of Atausikut.

Perhaps more than you realize. She turned her leg to the side, looking down at the faint, whiplike scar up the inside of her leg. She sighed, softly again, then looked back up at Gunnar.

It might not be too far from the truth, but until he’s awake, we won’t know what he was seeing. If it was just a feverish hallucination or his mind trying to rationalize what happened to him. Her ears swiveled to the side.

He has a long road.

Gunnar had seen enough in his life to know that there were good wolves and bad ones. His father had been taken from them just as violently as the boy now laying in the den. But this boy had been lucky.

Gunnar shook his head. Lady Faun please don't presume to know I don't realize things. I know very well of the violence of others, even if I am a benevolent man.

Though he was sure this had something to do with her. He didn't like others thinking false things about him. And it was not a cruel reprimand, just a reminder that she shouldn't make assumptions about others.

Yes he does. Now if you'll excuse me. I'd like to check on him, tell Germanicus he may stay. And I will send a runner to Riverclan.

He stood quickly and he would move away. The way the girl spoke had rankled him and he wasn't sure why. So he'd like to leave the situation. And besides he had many things to do. He had to ensure that Germanicus had warmth, that the boy was comfortable, he'd need to tell @Bjarna of these developments, and he would need to send Inkeri to Riverclan and his body was tired. He was not a young man.