Wheeling Gull Isle My Order has detected an abnormal amount of transliminal energy

Although he could not bring himself to regret staying by Ana’s side, Caracal immediately felt contrite for his sharp tongue. Still cradling the little girl’s limp body, he looked up at Heda, trying to catch her eye to apologize with his own. He would beg for her forgiveness and ask her to give him penance later, though presently her next query waylaid his attention.

I’m a medic, remember? Never mind that he’d totally ignored that aspect of his life since before their reunion. I’m going to stay right here beside Ana. I wouldn’t mind some backup, though, he continued, sitting up a little from his crouch over Ana. We can call for help together, request anyone who can to head to the mainland to seek medical assistance. Tell them we think it’s a head injury…

Caracal tried to think of what he knew about such things. Considering her prior symptoms, this went way beyond a headache, though the same principles might still apply. Perhaps a cold compress might help. He recollected something vague about ginger, though nothing about its application. It was hard to think, when he was staring down at his unresponsive little girl.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave her side, so he said, Heda, Ava, could you find something—a clump of moss or… or a seasponge, if we have one handy—and soak it in cold water? Don’t wring it. Just soak it as much as possible and bring it to me.

Meanwhile, he gingerly shifted his forelegs, slipping one beneath her neck to prop up her head and give it a softer pillow than the hard ground. He thought the movement might wake her, though Ana didn’t so much as stir. Caracal swallowed and stared into her slack face. He realized he was breathing hard right into it and had the errant thought: I’m surprised my bad breath hasn’t woken her up!

Lauren gave me permission to skip Ava for this round.