Washed Ashore ((PLOT, OPEN!))

[Warhound]

The salt water licked at his wounds, stung his eyes, nose and ears, his thin, ragged fur clinging to his skeletal, battered body as though it had been painted on. A bloody piece of rope was looped around the bedraggled figure's neck, the broken shaft of a javelin causing his body to contort a little, unable to lie flat on his back thanks to the weapon sticking out of his shoulder blade.
Was the nightmare over? Had he died? Had he succumbed to his injuries? Did Tampa get away? If he could at least manage that, then perhaps dying right now wouldn't be all for nothing. Blood trickled out of the side of the otter's mouth, the waves washing sand into his cuts and open wounds with each swell of the tide... Despite being extremely tough, the young otter's paws were bloody, torn and scraped as though he'd had to climb over some sharp rocks to get to safety, a few arrow shafts in his rudder as well.

If the poor creature was still alive after all of this (to the naked eye, he looked very much like a corpse that had washed ashore, emaciated as he was), then he must've gone through hell and back before washing up on Salamandastron's shores a few hours after dawn.

~*~

-FLASHBACK-

Completely out of control, the berserk warrior otter attacked anything that came near him -- his fury encreasing when a rope pulled taught against his throat. A strangled, screaming howl came out in retaliation along with the tearing of teeth and claws, the rope joking him until he turned upon the one who held it -- a frightened rat guard backing away as Damon Warhound shoved others aside to get to him. Sinking his teeth into any soft parts he could find, the rat screamed as the otter's sharp, yellowed teeth gripped his shoulder, skeletal paws around another beast's throat, mad red eyes rolling.
A few rats ran, and Damon, so seized by 19 years' worth of anger and hatred, pursued them, dropping down to all fours with blood dripping from his jaws -- ignoring a javelin sticking out of his back in favor of his escaping targets.

Damon eventually caught up with them on the northern coast, blood, both theirs and his mixing in with the sand around their footpaws. It wasn't long before he was down to the last creature -- the one guard who'd been fast enough to evade him the longest, and smart enough to realize he was very well going to die on this beach. Not without a fight, however. Pulling out his sword, the guard trembled everywhere except his paws, as though they had gone numb with horror -- but the sight of a weapon drawn did not stop the Warhound. Damon lunged, and the sword was brought up to perhaps shield himself -- but the otter's arms were long, and his paws were at the guard's throat, the sword cutting into his ragged chest. Backwards they stumbled, the sea roaring in Damon's ears, the bloodlust in his eyes as they toppled straight into the water, the guard's life snuffed out like a candle.
With nobeast left to fight, and his injuries finally catching up to him, Damon passed out -- his unconscious form carried by the waves away from the carnage on the beach, no energy left in his whole body to care what happens now.

((The flashback is a continuation of the thread with Grath, if anyone wanted to see what happened up to this point. =) The thread should be around here somewhere! ))

[Tracy]

A full, busy day was laid about before the young lieutenant. Today was the first day Jamie was assigned back to a full-group cadet lesson and we he was really looking forward to it. He had picked up a few more private lessons to round out his schedule as well. Although he still had a few spare hours of the day to himself – that would be taken care of soon, he was sure – Roseleaf was still as busy as ever. With a fresh batch of recruits going through their first bout of combat lessons, the eager, inexperienced soldiers were keeping the infirmary busy.

Jamie enjoyed being busy and was glad to be back into his role as a trainer, but he hadn't anticipated some of the complications. Things that hadn't been an issue before. With both their busy schedules, Jamie and Roseleaf didn't get much time together. That morning they both showed up for an early breakfast, which was the first time they'd seen each other in almost two days. With a bit of sweet-talking and assuring it would be a short one, Jamie managed to talk her into taking a walk with him after breakfast, before they both got wrapped up in their various tasks.

Once they'd gone outside, free of the bustling crowd arriving for breakfast, Jamie playfully tugged Roseleaf close and kissed her. When he drew away, he threaded his fingers with hers and led them off on a slow, leisurely stroll down the beach. The morning was brisk, but not uncomfortable. It was quiet, the shore being sparsely populated at this hour; there was no one near them. The only sound was the gentle swoosh of the tide.

Washed up in the tide a ways ahead of them appeared to be a large chunk of driftwood. He paid it little mind until they drew closer and it began looking less and less like driftwood. Curiosity piqued, he nodded ahead of them. "What d'ya suppose that is?"

[Kenyon]

Roseleaf hated hated hated recruits. Particularly dumb recruits that didn’t give a wit (and obviously didn’t have any) about their instructor’s instructions. A new batch of recruits had just started training, and the amount of bruised foot-paws, shin splints, “bad tummies”, headaches, “flus”, “colds”, and other assorted illnesses or injuries was just ridiculous. She was at a loss which was worse, those pretending to be sick or injured to avoid their trainer’s heavy paws, or those truly sick or injured because of their own stupidity.

All in all, it had been a hectic, stressful two days. She’d shown up for early breakfast and been pleasantly surprised to find Jamie there. After eating and finding a little equilibrium she had lost in the stress, she let him persuade her to take a walk on the beach. They walked down the shore, holding paws. She took several deep breaths, losing more of her frustrations with the beautiful morning. She was gazing over the dark sea, the sunlight not having reached high enough over the trees to touch the waves yet.

"What d'ya suppose that is?"

Roseleaf was brought back to the shore as he spoke, following the line of his glance she spotted the source of his interest. What was that— suddenly she took off, racing down the sand to drop to her knees by the otter she gently laid her fingers against his neck. She looked back up at Jamie before returning her gaze to the otter. “He’s still alive!” She began a more thorough examination.

[Tracy]

At Roseleaf's alarmed reaction, it almost immediately clicked in his head that it must be a washed up beast. The haremaid had good eyes. Jamie quickly followed after her. He was almost on top of the unconscious creature before he could even tell It was an otter. The young lieutenant grimaced. "Poor chap was in quite the skirmish," the hare noted, eyeing the broken javelin and arrow shafts.

"He's still alive!"

That… Jamie had certainly not expected. There was NO WAY this otter was alive! Even if he wasn't stuck full of weapons, he was emaciated and washed up with the tide. Who survived that? But, he supposed, if there was one thing a healer ought to know, it was the difference between dead and alive. He squatted down on the other side of the – allegedly alive – otter, gaze flicking between Roseleaf and the wounded beast.

"Should we move 'im?" Well, at the very least, move him out of the tide, right? Somehow he'd managed to survive this long, it'd be a shame if he went and drowned in the rising tide. "I could prob'ly carry 'im, he's naught but skin'n'bones." And arrows.

[Kenyon]

"Should we move 'im?" Well, at the very least, move him out of the tide, right? Somehow he'd managed to survive this long, it'd be a shame if he went and drowned in the rising tide. "I could prob'ly carry 'im, he's naught but skin'n'bones." And arrows.

“At this point, moving him isn’t going to do much more damage, and it’s much more important we get him inside quickly.” She lifted the otter by his shoulders, helping Jamie to lift him from the sand. She checked his pulse again as Jamie shifted to a comfortable grip.

“Thank you..” She told Jamie as they returned to the mountain.

---

“Well, he’s at least stable.” It was the next afternoon and Roseleaf laid a tray on the table next to the otter’s bed. He was in the small room separate from the main ward, where he could have peace and quiet for his recovery. If he recovered. “I’m going to try and get some broth in him now. I’m afraid if he doesn’t take any liquids he won’t survive much longer.” And if he didn’t wake up soon, he might just slip away forever as well.


((Hope the jump is ok, guys))

[Tracy]

The wounded otter had required Roseleaf's constant attention that day. After carrying him to the infirmary, Jamie had offered any help he could, although he certainly didn't possess medicinal skills. Roseleaf and Vicky seemed to have things under control though, and the lieutenant was sure he would just be in the way. He scooted off and went about the various tasks of his own day. That afternoon he brought up lunch for the whole infirmary staff, who were all hard at work keeping the otter alive while still dealing with the steady flow of injured recruits.

Unsurprisingly, Jamie didn't see Roseleaf at dinner that night, or for breakfast the following morning. He wanted to go see how everything was going, but was swamped in his own duties. During the couple free hours he had in the afternoon, with his little sister's help, he gathered up another platter of lunch for the infirmary staff. Setting about the food on the counter as he'd done the previous day, he allowed Keely to swoop around and say her hellos to everyone, including several patients. Thanking the little haremaid for her assistance, Jamie sent her off back to her afternoon lessons.

Now he sat on a stool on the opposite side of the otter's bed from Roseleaf.

"Well, he's at least stable."

"I can't believe he's still alive," Jamie uttered, and the surprise was evident in his tone. He still couldn't even believe the otter had still been alive down on the shore the previous morning. As far as he was concerned, Roseleaf had just resurrected a dead beast.

"I’m going to try and get some broth in him now. I’m afraid if he doesn’t take any liquids he won’t survive much longer."

"Well, if there's anythin' I can do t'help, jus' let me know."

[Warhound]

By some strange sixth sense, Damon felt Roseleaf's paw coming towards his mouth -- eyes flying open as his fight-or-flight drives kicked into high gear. Damn, where was he? What was she? Those ears are just -- damn it, everything hurts! Did she do this to him? Was she the one to blame for all the pain he was going through at the moment? Confused and extremely defensive, Damon did the only thing that made sense to him right now; he bit the hand that was trying to feed him.
Normally, it would be ill-advised to bite the creature singlehandedly trying to nurse him back to health, but where he came from, the hand that fed him was normally attached to a very cruel creature who didn't care if he lived or died. Once, he'd had a warden who would put nails in the slaves' food, and Damon had nearly been beaten to death after he'd attacked the warden and shoved a few of those nails right down his throat!

Holding on savagely, the discombobulated, emaciated creature finally let go when something hit him so hard in the back of the head, he thought he might pass out again.
"Little savage." Azryel brushed some hair off the back of the book he'd been carrying, gave Jamie and Roseleaf a curt nod of acknowledgment before going off to his desk somewhere. Damon snarled and made to get out of bed, his voice a horrible rasp as he licked blood from his lips.
"Who are you? Speak!"
Normally a death threat would've accompanied those words, but Damon doubted he could put up much of a fight -- he was using all of his strength just to stay sitting upright!

[Cross]

Hovering in an out-of-the-way spot at the other end of the otter's bed was Vicky. She'd stayed up late into the night with Roseleaf to take care of the dying creature, hardly speaking a word as they worked. Her natural concern for the injured was apparent in her careful, gentle motions, but also in her quick obedience to Roseleaf's word. Whenever the hare maid needed something, the little mouse scurried off to retrieve it.

Vicky had also been helping much with the recruits. How so many of them managed to injure themselves or get so 'sick' was beyond her. Her knack for guessing ailments had paid off, and several of the cadets who'd dropped in with 'tummy aches' or other nonsense had been released after receiving only a cup of calming tea and a subtle jab at their acting skills.

Now, however, concern practically dulled her big green eyes as she stood by the wounded otter. Well, perhaps wounded wasn't strong enough a word. Vicky gave a nod and a half smile to Jamie and his sister when they entered the sick bay. His sister was adorable, but Vicky's mind was thoroughly preoccupied. Thanking the lieutenant for bringing lunch, she didn't eat just yet, worried for the otter. Besides, she'd had a decent breakfast. Pushing up her overlong sleeves for the umpteenth time that day, the mouse looked up at Roseleaf, biting her lip.

"I’m going to try and get some broth in him now. I’m afraid if he doesn’t take any liquids he won’t survive much longer."

Vicky nodded agreement, stepping aside as Jamie pulled up a stool to sit across from Roseleaf. She watched in silence, and the first sound she made that day was her squeak of shock as the otter's head jerked up and his jaws clamped around Roseleaf's paw. The mouse's own paws flew to her mouth, and she nearly jumped when Black swatted the otter on the back of his head with a book.

"Little savage."

"Who are you? Speak!"

Oh, Winter's Ice . . . "P-please, stay still," Vicky murmured. She didn't want him making his injuries worse.

[Kenyon]

"Well, if there's anythin' I can do t'help, jus' let me know."

“I will, thank you Jamie.” Roseleaf took a large spoon she often used when a creature couldn’t eat on its own and dipped it half full of broth. With her other paw she reached to tilt the otter’s jaw open.

“Yeowtch!” She yanked her bitten paw back instinctively, fumbling the spoon. The bloody little savage! She nodded curtly in response to the doctor and returned a stern gaze to the fuming otter. She took note of his condition and shoved him sharply in the chest.

"Who are you? Speak!"

“You washed up on my shore, otter, and if you think you’re going to win any battles by biting your healer, you’ve another think coming. Now, one way or another you’re going to eat this broth. Don’t make me give it to you the hard way.”

"P-please, stay still,"

Oh for… Roseleaf closed her eyes for patience. She’d seen some improvement when Vicky was dealing with the playacting of recruits, but if she was going back to this…

“Victiore, I doubt he knows the meaning of the word. By the looks of him, he’s had rather a rough time of it.” She raised her eyebrow at Damon. “Now, eat that broth, and then perhaps we can have a conversation, yes?”

[Tracy]

When the otter bit down on Roseleaf's paw, the hare jumped from his stool to stop him. But before he could figure out how to get the wounded beast to release the haremaid, Dr. Black came along and smacked him in the back of the head. That was far more satisfying to watch than it should have been. Jamie wouldn't have been able to bring himself to hit a severely wounded creature, so it was nice that the one beast seemingly devoid of a conscience had been able to do it for him.

Jamie didn't immediately return to his seat. Rather, he stood by the bed warily. He was sure, given the otter's state, he could hardly put up much of a fight against Roseleaf, but he was certainly not going to give the otter the opportunity to try.

"You washed up on my shore, otter, and if you think you’re going to win any battles by biting your healer, you’ve another think coming. Now, one way or another you’re going to eat this broth. Don’t make me give it to you the hard way."

"If not for her, you'd be dead right now," Jamie said, his tone carefully leveled, but with a detectable threat underneath. "I thought you were dead," he added flatly.

His gaze flicked over to Roseleaf then, eyes straying to her paw. "Are you all right?" Before she answered, he turned to the mousemaid who was hovering about timidly. "Could y'make sure Roseleaf's paw isn't hurt?" he asked, not wanting the haremaid to brush off a possible injury just because it was her own.

[Warhound]

"You washed up on my shore, otter, and if you think you’re going to win any battles by biting your healer, you’ve another think coming. Now, one way or another you’re going to eat this broth. Don’t make me give it to you the hard way."

Wait, what?

She was trying to heal him? ....was this a trap? Eyes narrowing, Damon took a few minutes to look at his surroundings, noticing the nervous looking mousemaid near the end of his bed, the tray of food nearby, and the various...medical...thingies...and that weird, overly clean smell in the room. Was this a...hospital? He'd never been in one before, let alone recieved medical treatment for anything, so this was more than a little new for the scarred, emaciated otter.

"If not for her, you'd be dead right now," Jamie said, his tone carefully leveled, but with a detectable threat underneath. "I thought you were dead," he added flatly.

Damon's dark red eyes immediately locked onto Lieutenant Sersea, the sea otter sizing him up even as he struggled to sit upright in bed. "Well ain't that sweet'o'her? I'm not eatin' a damn thing until somebeast tells me where I am, and who you lot are!" Stressed from the pain of his injuries and that always uncomfortable feeling of not knowing where he was, Damon eyed the broth Roseleaf had as though she were trying to poison him. It did look good...and it certainly smelled good -- no! Must not show weakness! Must look strong in front of these funny long-eared creatures and their...weird smelly room...
Where was that one with the book, anyway? He was gonna make that gaunt lookin' hare eat it the next tim he saw him! Suddenly, the otter felt a little woosey -- perhaps all that yelling and movement was a bit much? Lying back down against his pillows, Damon sighed wearily.

"Alright, I'll drink it."

[Cross]

“Victiore, I doubt he knows the meaning of the word. By the looks of him, he’s had rather a rough time of it.”

Vicky bit her tongue, resisting the urge to apologize. The big otter's outburst had just . . . startled her, that's all. Inwardly, she berated herself for squeaking like that. It was probably quite pathetic-sounding, after all. Ears dropping back, the little mouse tried not to widen her eyes in fear as the otter's red gaze fell upon her. But she was glad to turn her attention to Jamie when the lieutenant spoke.

"Could y'make sure Roseleaf's paw isn't hurt?" he asked, not wanting the haremaid to brush off a possible injury just because it was her own.

The mouse nodded, moving around the bed next to Roseleaf. Not waiting for the hare maid to protest, Vicky gently took Roseleaf's paw in her own, examining the bite mark. It didn't look too deep, and in his weakened state, the otter hadn't drawn blood. Though the skin and fur had been scraped back a little, leaving painful puncture marks where his teeth had clamped down. The bite would be sore for awhile, but it was nothing too serious. Vicky smiled up at Roseleaf and gave a small nod to Jamie.

"Well ain't that sweet'o'her? I'm not eatin' a damn thing until somebeast tells me where I am, and who you lot are!"

"You're at Salamandastron," Vicky told him gently, moving back to her spot at the other end of the bed. She pointed to the hare maid. "Roseleaf is the healer who's been nursing you back to health. I'm Vicky." She didn't know exactly what her role was in all this, so she didn't say. "That's Lieutenant Sersea." She indicated Jamie. Folding her paws in front of her, she offered a smile. "We won't hurt you."

Somehow she felt a little more confident. Maybe it was the fact that Jamie had stood up and looked ready to give the otter what for should it come to that. Maybe it was the fact that she remembered the otter really couldn't do much due to the extent of his injuries. Whatever it was, she was certainly glad it was there.

"Alright, I'll drink it."

The mousemaid's smile brightened, and her ears perked up a little. But her eyes still held that deep measure of concern for the wounded creature. Okay, sure, he was a big scary otter, but once he saw that he was among friends, he'd calm down more. It seemed he already was.

[Kenyon]

“Thank you Victiore.” Roseleaf said somewhat frostily as she gently removed her paw from the mouse’s grip. As if she couldn’t inspect it herself! She picked up the spo.on from where it lay on the bed, turning to place the spo.on on the table.

Damon's dark red eyes immediately locked onto Lieutenant Sersea, the sea otter sizing him up even as he struggled to sit upright in bed. "Well ain't that sweet'o'her? I'm not eatin' a damn thing until somebeast tells me where I am, and who you lot are!"

“Wrong!” Roseleaf rapped out, the spo.on in her paw coming down with a hard clack as she slammed it on the table and spun on the otter again. “I don’t think you heard me, otter. You’re going to drink that broth, and then, if you behave, I’ll answer your questions. This is my infirmary, and you’ll mind your manners!” She lifted the spo.on and dipped it into the bowl, balancing it on the edge as Vicky began talking.

A light sigh hissed through her teeth as she forced herself to calm down. Yelling at Vicky would do not a whit of good, and the poor mouse did mean well.

"Alright, I'll drink it."

“Good.” She handed the bowl to the otter, watching him with paws on her hips and eyes narrowed until he had eaten the whole thing. Overeating was a concern with beasts who had been starved, so the bowl was not overfull, it contained exactly the portion she had intended on feeding him, exactly the portion that would do him most good while keeping him from losing the meal altogether.

“Now.” Her voice was more gentle. “Tell us your story. And your name would not go amiss, either.”

[Tracy]

"Thank you Victiore."

At Roseleaf's icy response, Jamie glanced quickly over at the mouse and winked at her, a silent "thank-you" for inspecting the haremaid's paw despite her stubbornness.

"I don’t think you heard me, otter. You’re going to drink that broth, and then, if you behave, I’ll answer your questions. This is my infirmary, and you’ll mind your manners!"

Jamie had trouble containing the grin from flickering across his face. The idea that he needed to protect Roseleaf was downright laughable. She owned this infirmary, and had surely been dealing with belligerent patients before the two of them had even become friends. The haremaid was proud and feisty, traits he'd picked up on right from the beginning. Although he couldn't help but feel a bit protective, it was definitely nice to be with a haremaid who wasn't needy or helpless… or at least didn't act needy or helpless for his attention.

"Tell us your story. And your name would not go amiss, either."

At that, the hare moved back a bit. "How 'bout we let the chap finish up that broth and get some cool water down his throat b'fore we get him chatterin', wot?" Thinking back to how the otter had been riddled with various weapons, he realized his story might be a little more important than he'd first thought. "I'm goin' t'see if I can find Lord Braythe, he may want to hear this." Or he might not, who knew? Jamie still hadn't quite figured the badger out.

Moving around the bed, he gave Roseleaf's shoulders a quick, affectionate squeeze and then slipped out of the side-room into the main infirmary. There, he saw Azryel off in his little corner, ignoring everything as well as he could, book in his paws. Jamie thought to keep walking, but couldn't help but stop momentarily. "'Ey, Lieutenant," he didn't normally call Black by his military title, but it couldn't hurt when asking a small favor. "I'd appreciate if you kept a bit of ear out on that room, jus' in case," he said courteously, nodding at the room he'd just walked out of. Nodding briefly, he turned and left the infirmary.

~~

A few minutes later, Jamie ducked his head into the forge-room, his first guess for the Badger Lord's whereabouts. "M'lord?"

[Warhound]

“Now.” Her voice was more gentle. “Tell us your story. And your name would not go amiss, either.”

Yeesh, way to put a guy on the spot! Was she always this bossy? His whole body ached, and she'd just snapped at him (alright, so he had bitten her, he did feel a tad sorry about that whole thing) to drink the broth or Damon was suspecting she might try and force-feed it to him if he'd refused. Roseleaf, huh? Such a sweet name for such a...feisty hare. Yeesh. The other two were okay though, the mouse was a little shy, and the Lieutenant seemed alright. Watching Jamie get up and leave, however, the otter's stomach gurgled miserably at the thought of more food. In case they hadn't noticed, he didn't get a proper meal most of his young life, and looked a bit...famished.
The otter held out the bowl with a skeletal paw, looking to Victiore to ask instead of the proud Roseleaf -- too proud beasts arguing over a bowl of soup could end a lot differently from a proud beast and a shy one discussing it. "You lot plannin' on starvin' me too, or can I have another bowl full?" His voice was a little better from the warm broth, but he still spoke like a chain-smoker.

Now then...about his name... He was Rag--no, that wasn't right. He was Damon Warhound, but he hadn't used the name in a long time...in fact, only Tampa knew to call him Damon. Speaking of Tampa... This time Damon's eyes settled on Roseleaf, his expression holding back a slightly hopeful look. "Did you drag in 'nother otter like me, skinny as all hell, and feisty?"

At the Lieutenant's words, the dark Doctor Black looked up from his book, locked eyes with Jamie and nodded. He didn't mind listening in on their conversation -- particularly if things got violent. While he did not doubt Roseleaf's ability to defend herself, it was easy to get overwhelmed when somebeast came at you with all the rage their body could hold... That emaciated young otter was like a stray dog, if they poked and prodded at him too much, he was going to think he was still in jeopardy and attack them. Azryel almost snorted, turning the page. For all they know, he could be rabid.

~*~

The Badger Lord's eyes were gleaming in the forge-light, an overwhelming sense of giddiness hitting the monstrously large creature as he held up his finished Lightning Bolt. The arrival of the Lieutenant -- though odd, as Jamie didn't normally come up here -- only presented him with the opportunity to show it off and glean praise for his handiwork. "Ain't she beautiful? Took me an entire month to shape it just right." Braythe beckoned Jamie over with a paw, grinning like a dibbun.
"What d'ye think? Nice, huh? Wanna hold it?"

[Cross]

"You lot plannin' on starvin' me too, or can I have another bowl full?"

Starving him? Vicky's concern was clear in her expression now as her smile faded. Who'd starved him? The poor thing. She glanced at Roseleaf, the mouse a little nervous again now that Jamie had left the room. But she took the bowl, her ears dropping back as her paw brushed against his bony knuckles. Heavens above! Even though she'd been up almost the whole night helping care for this otter, she was still not used to just how thin he was.

She filled the bowl about halfway this time, knowing that Roseleaf wanted him to eat slowly. Going to fast in his state wouldn't be good for him. Handing back the bowl, she tried to smile again, pushing up her overlong sleeves for the umpteenth time that morning.

"What's your name?" she prompted him. He still hadn't answered that question from Roseleaf. She hoped he at least remembered that much about himself. It would be horrible if his injuries were so bad to the extent that he couldn't remember anything.

"Did you drag in 'nother otter like me, skinny as all hell, and feisty?"

Vicky's big green eyes darted over to Roseleaf again, and she shook her head, looking back at the otter. "No, we didn't," the mouse replied hesitantly. Was he looking for family? A friend? Had they been through the same torment he had? She bit her lip, and then stopped biting it. (She had to get rid of that habit.) "Did you get separated from somebeast?"

[Kenyon]

"You lot plannin' on starvin' me too, or can I have another bowl full?"

“You can have another half a bowl. And eat it slowly, or you’ll lose it.” She watched as Vicky ladled out another bowl, struggling with her sleeves once more. She reached out and rolled the mouse’s sleeve’s for her, much like Vicky had checked her paw, by just grabbing and rolling the sleeves up. “Haven’t you been able to get proper uniforms yet, Victiore? I’m sure there must be somebeast down in supply who can sew…”

"Did you drag in 'nother otter like me, skinny as all hell, and feisty?"

“Just you.” Roseleaf shook her head, taking the empty bowl and laying it on the table. “Tell us your story, and if you keep this broth down, I might give you something more solid next time.”

[Tracy]

"Ain't she beautiful? Took me an entire month to shape it just right."

"Oh. Aye," Jamie agreed without thinking. "Afternoon m'lord, I was jus' lookin' for you b-"

"What d'ye think? Nice, huh? Wanna hold it?"

How was the young lieutenant supposed to turn down an invitation like that? The task at hand momentarily forgotten, Jamie moved into the heat of the forge-room, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the change in the light. "Do I want t'hold it?" the hare replied with a small laugh. There was no weapon in the world like a badger-forged weapon, and Braythe was asking if Jamie wanted to hold it? "I'd be honored m'lord."

Even as he inspected the newly-forged weapon, his mind was tugged back to the goings-on back in the infirmary. "Oh! Ah, I came t'find you 'cause I thought y'might like t'know we have a wounded otter up in the infirmary." We? When did Jamie become 'we' of the healing staff? By the momentary look on his face, he was wondering that himself.

"Roseleaf an' I found him washed up on the shore yesterday mornin' and he jus' now came to. I think he might have a story t'tell. When we found 'im he looked like he was bein' used as a pincushion, stuck full o' arrows and a javelin buried in his shoulder. Also, he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life."

[Warhound]

“Just you.” Roseleaf shook her head, taking the empty bowl and laying it on the table. “Tell us your story, and if you keep this broth down, I might give you something more solid next time.”

"What's your name?" she prompted him.

"Did you get separated from somebeast?"

So many questions! Damon's ears flattened against his skull, as though he found their curiosity to be somewhat invasive. He didn't know these creatures, and he didn't understand why they wanted to know so much about him -- maybe they were concerned for their own safety? Damon inwardly scoffed. Or maybe they just wanted to know why the hell he'd washed up on their shores full of more arrows than a quiver. A bit awkward, Damon scratched at one of his nicked, scarred, flea-bitten ears, focusing on a corner of the bed that currently wasn't pressuring him with a few on-the-spot-questions...

"Damon Warhound, Son of Dalla Warhound and War Chieftain Brodin Warhound, of the High North Coast and the last of my Clan."

Finally he'd gotten that off his chest. It felt kind of funny really... He hadn't spoken his own real name out loud in years, literally YEARS... The otter he introduced himself as was a very different one from the otter he had once been, under that very same name. For most of his life, he had been Rag or Ragnor, the flea-bitten, furious, emaciated but nevertheless proud otter who would do anything to wring Obsidius Bane's neck.
Now he was Damon Warhound, the broken and battered otter who may have escaped his tormentors, had somehow managed to lose his last remaining kinbeast somewhere. What if they'd captured her? What if they'd killed her? What if she was out there right now, starving, injured and without anybeast to help her?
Damon gripped the sheets so tight his paws shook.

~*~

"Oh! Ah, I came t'find you 'cause I thought y'might like t'know we have a wounded otter up in the infirmary." We? When did Jamie become 'we' of the healing staff? By the momentary look on his face, he was wondering that himself.

The description of said otter made Braythe frown, a sudden twinge of anger hitting him as he realized just what kind of creature Jamie was talking about. He was talking about a slave. A beast purposefully starved, a creature with no freedom and normally not a chance in hell of ever getting out of such a horrible situation. The only rest slaves usually found were the kind that awaited them in the Dark Forest...
Taking the lightning bolt back from Lieutenant Sersea, Braythe's lips pulled back a bit in a look of displeasure. "Let's go see this otter of yore's, Lieutenant." All of a sudden, the Badger Lord had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach...

[Cross]

"Damon Warhound, Son of Dalla Warhound and War Chieftain Brodin Warhound, of the High North Coast and the last of my Clan."

The last . . . Vicky's smile faded entirely this time. Her heart went out to the scarred and beaten otter. He had nobeast left? Well, save for the beast he was looking for, maybe. She wanted to help him, somehow. Then she realized she and Roseleaf were helping him. They were healing his external injuries, but what about his losing his entire family? That was a scar no amount of broth or bandages could heal.

She noted his knuckles turning white as he constricted his grip on the bed sheets. Carefully, easily, she placed one of her dainty paws on his, trying to get him to relax his grip a little. "Do you remember how you came here?" she asked softly. Bracing herself for his reaction to her touch and her question, the little mouse hoped she would be able to draw her paw back fast enough.