RP:Feral Tots and Hospital Cots

Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc

Summary: After a nasty encounter with a dragon, Orikahn rushes Aira to Hildegarde's camp in Xalious for medical attention. They are met by Josleen, who has been running the hospital tent therein, Juju, a twice-orphaned wild boy who can't keep his hands to himself, and some of the camp's giants. After a lot of treatment and medicine (not helped by the enthusiastic Juju's interference) the injured Aira is stable and on the road to recovery.

Rolling Hills

Orikahn pants heavily. His strain is that of one who has been moving as quickly and carefully as he can for a distance of many miles. He wears no armor, only a loincloth, for he had abandoned the burdensome plates along the way, discarding them in a mountain culvert; he couldn't afford the weight. Some weary leagues back, he had fallen into into the trance-like rhythm of the ceaseless runner, driven ever onward to the beat of feet, the pulse of breath, and the drumming of blood. Ordinarily, the hunter would have stopped ages ago to rest, catch his breath, stretch his limbs, have a drink; they would all be a sweet relief to him now, but Kahn dares not stop. In his arms, cradled carefully against his chest, is the body of an elf in peril. Aira had been deathly pale even at the start of their journey, and though Kahn had done his best to bind the poor creature's wounds with moss and leather, the cat knows that his companion hunter will perish without the help of a true healer. At long last, the smoke of the camp curls up before him, and Orikahn redoubles his pace. Hildegarde's allies have been light at work transforming Xalious' park into a functional camp, and it's amid the tents and cheerful, quiet fires that Orikahn barges in. "Healer!" He croaks, earning many startled glances and raised brows. Several of the giants recognize Kahn, and mutters of disdain and unrest are already circulating from tent to tent. "Healer!" Again, Kahn cries, breaking his voice as his running finally gives way to a stagger. He is clad in only a loincloth. His feet are raw and bleeding.

Josleen , since the erection of the first tents in the camp, has been working hard to source the necessary reagents and supplies to stock the medic’s tent. The nurse was trained in Frostmaw by shamans. The potions and medicines she learned how to brew there often require Frostmawian ingredients, which are all but impossible to find during these days of autarky in the City of War. No arctic poppies, no ice cap mushrooms, no white-fyre herbs or even just a pinch of damned Aramoth-blessed blue iron dust, which excellent to for treating broken bones. Without any patients to tend to -- aside from the odd flesh wound here or there -- Josleen dedicates her time to researching substitutions and brewing new potions to create a stock of elixirs and salves. She doesn’t have the time or money to waste on sweeteners -- oral or olfactory -- so hopefully soldiers are as brave in the medical bay as they are in the battlefield. She is bent over a book trying to find a replacement for blue iron dust when she hears the baritone wailing. She rushes past the tent flap and holds it open, shouting in a bardic-enhanced voice magically destined to reach Orikahn’s ears above the din of blacksmiths and sparring blows. “HERE! BED HERE! HEALER!” She waves an arm and it makes a swooshing then cracking sound like a giant whip being cracked above her head. In the tent there are ten cots. Josleen pats the one closest to the medicine cabinet.

Aira had lost consciousness early on in this journey, before they even reached the mouth of the cave where she had sustained her injuries. Throughout Kahn’s steady jogging she would occasionally come to for a moment only to groan and mumble something incoherently before dropping out once more. Upon reaching the camp, however, the over abundance of noise seems to rattle her and her copper eyes only open to slits. “Where?” Is all she manages to get out with her shallow breathing before her head lobs against Kahn’s chest once more. The effort of staying awake, of talking, proved too much for the huntress who seems to have sustained her worst injury to date.

Juju was walking along, the boy looked relatively well, dressed in a shirt and tie. Having never met his birth parents, the 6 year old was raised by wild wolves in sage forest. The young elf was taken by humans along with his momma and papa, both wolves. Dressed in the same attire of the man who ordered the capture it was all he knew compared to the rags he grew up in. Kind people gave him gold so he decided to go shopping and wear something familiar. As he walked along the boy was throwing punch after punch, his feet sliding with each punch. On his way to the giant tree where he found the bodies of his wolf parents. Having gotten lost since he wasn't paying attention, he hears several voices scream and begins to run after them. Soon he finds himself running through a camp, his small stature allowing him to go unseen. Once he nears the healers tent, the boy spots Orikahn and instinctually gets into a fighting stance. "You again. Dirty fermin, you hurt her like you did my momma and papa didn't you?" The boy learned the word yesterday and didn't quite understand it. All he knew of fermin was that they were furry. "I'll make you pay." As he says this he takes off the leather gloves to reveal bloody and bruised knuckles from the day before, he spent all day and night punching a wall, doing so in tears."

Orikahn snaps his attention up to the bard, her magic keenly directing his attention to her precise location. His eyes, all three of them, snap to face her, and he turns, hurriedly hobbling toward Josleen, nearly trips over a fire, staggers back to his balance, and finally wobbles to a stop just shy of actually tumbling into Josleen. Breathlessly, the massive sabercat shuffles past her and, with his last bit of strength and care, lays Aira gingerly in the medical cot. Seeing her thus secured in the safety of a hospital tent, Orikahn knows that he has done all he can for the elf. Panting heavily, he teeters back a pace and more or less falls back out the wide opening to the sizeable tent. Collapsing on his back, he stares upward at the sky. Ordinarly, the cat would be black with coffee brown stripes, but now he's almost completely gray with the dust of mountain roads. Just then, a voice strikes his ears and, soon enough, Orikahn can spot Juju out of the corner of his gaze. He turns his head to face the boy. "Great spirits," he pleads to unseen forces for aid and simply looks back to the sky, readying himself to accept whatever pummeling is about to come. Josleen, meanwhile, if she pries away the leather bindings and moss "gauze" to explore Aira's wounds, will discover the injuries are hideous. Some sort of bite crosses her abdomen and ribcage in a "V", front and back, with ragged lacerations, chemical burns, and ample bruising.

Josleen does her best to help Orikahn lower Aira gently onto the cot, but his movements, even weakened, are too heavy for her to be much help in stopping the sloppy deposit. The best the nurse can manage is to cradle Aira’s head and lower it gently down onto her own fingers before slipping those out from beneath the elf’s fine white, but now sullied, hair. Josleen knows she needs to help Orikahn too, but Aira seems first in line for death’s door and tops the list of priorities. Orikahn’s loincloth-only attire doesn’t rattle or embarrass Josleen the way it would if he looked human or elven. That’s the upside to being a tiger; no one cares if you’re naked. She doesn’t know him well, but has seen him around enough to know he is an ally -- at least currently. He wasn’t always. The memory of the yule ball burns in the back of her mind. She quickly unwraps the leather and moss and gingerly picks the moss out of the wounds that already reek with the festering of disease. “My name is Josleen. You’re at Hildegarde’s military camp in Xalious, and you are safe,” she says to Aira, then winces slightly at the horrendous injury, but maintains her composure. Two wars worth of blood, burns, and infections has desensitized her to even the worst of it. She pivots quickly to the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of milky white substance. She informs Aira of everything she is doing, whether or not the elf can hear her, so that the elf feels more in control despite the fact she has none, on the off chance she is even capable of listening. “This is queen’s garlic milk. It will help kill the disease that has infected the wound and will clean it. It won’t burn.” Just as she is pouring the medicine over the abdomen with one hand, and already reaching for fresh gauze with her free hand, Juju walks in to attack her next patient. Sure, a six year old isn’t very threatening, but that’s not the point. “Get away from him!” Her tone is firm and needling, like a school marm, perfected by trial and error as she’s used it before to rein in her lover’s sons when they get out of hand. One of them is six, just like Juju. It works with Dana, striking fear in his child’s heart. Hopefully it works on Juju too. “Come stand by me. I could use your help to help this woman,” she says to the six year old. It’s not really true, but elevating children to an important role seems to get them to acquiesce more quickly and easily. She’s oblivious as to why the child has it in for Orikahn.

Aira groans in protest as her body is deposited in the cot, the shifting of her body twisting her wounds drawing the pained noise from her lips. Her hands grip at the fabric below her frame in an attempt to temper the pain searing through her midsection. Aira offers Josleen nothing more than some grunts and a writhing body as the bandages and moss are removed. She vaguely hears the nurse’s voice but it’s incomprehensible to her at this point. Aira silently asks the gods and spirits above to let her black out completely again, but they seem keen on her staying in the murkiness of half consciousness; a cruel punishment for her lack of self preservation perhaps.

Juju flinches and backs up at the sound of Josleen's voice, bringing up the memories of torture he endured at the hands of his captors. He remains quite with his hands held together and head down. The young boy silently puts his gloves back on and walks over to her side. "Ok. What do you want me to do? Just don't hurt me." the young elf says just loud enough to be heard.

Orikahn grits his jaw and scrunches his eyes shut, ready to get a healthy sock to the noggin, but no such blow comes. Daring to peek one eye open, he watches Juju walk harmlessly past himself, and he sighs in relief. Orikahn isn't the only one to have noticed the little drama play out, for a handfull of giants had gathered to observe the beating with guffaws and schadenfreude. Now that Juju is complying with Josleen, they'll get to enjoy no such spectacle. The giants grumble amongst themselves, and there is some amount of ribbing to try and get one among them to go trouble the helpless Kahn instead, but none of them do. They disperse. Oorgal, one of these giants, sticks around to stoop a little to peek into the tent. "Did you need any help with the new arrivals, Josleen, ma'am?" He makes sure, should Josleen look up, she sees his contemptuous glance toward the saber cat.

Josleen blinks at Juju’s response. She expected him to stop, but not to look so defeated. Poor thing. Josleen doesn’t have time to coddle though. She nods towards the bottom portion of the cabinet. As she speaks to Juju she begins to press the gauze gently to Aira’s abdomen to soak up excess blood so she can see the exact contours of the bites. “Open the cabinet and finds the jar labeled worm’s silk.” Realizing he may not be able to read she adds, “It looks like thick green spider silk. Hand me that jar, and the tray that has a needle and other metal objects on it.” He can’t mess it up. The surgical trays are assembled in the same way; she assembled them herself. The nurse pivots grabs a glass jar of salve and a tin of hard candies from the top portion of the cabinet, out of Juju’s read. To Aira now, “This salve I will help stop the bleeding. You’re still bleeding in parts. It shouldn’t burn, but my touch may hurt. Here,” she holds a hard candy near Aira’s mouth. “It’s to help with the pain.Suck on it slowly.” If Aira doesn’t take it she’ll press it gently to the elf’s lips to see if instinct will guide the woman to accept food or medicine in a safe place. If she takes it, Josleen explains further as she works in the salve to the still-bleeding parts of the wound, which is a lot of it. “You should be feeling the effects in a few minutes. A general numbness all over the body. It may make you drowsy.” That’s when Oorgal, who Josleen recognizes, offers his help. She nods and points at the small clay-baked hearth. “Heat up some water and brew some gods’ wind tea. It’s labeled in the cabinet. Top shelf.” Then to Orikahn she says, “Rest. The tea is for you. It will help you regain your strength.” Unfortunately for the tiger, the bard missed Oorgal’s contemptuous look to the hunter.

Aira gives the most pathetic of wimpers when Josleen begins to rub the salve over her wounded midsection, the pressure of her touch causing a wave of nausea to overtake her. It is most unlike the hard huntress to give into the pain this way, but here in the healing tent, amongst a young boy (who Aira doesn’t even know is there) and a nurse, she doesn’t seem to care. The high elf has all intention to take the candy with her hand but the appendage continues to lay limply at her side. However, when Josleen presses the candy to her lips she takes it in her mouth, inclining her chin in the briefest of nods in understanding of the instruction. Aira’s body trembles slightly as tries to focus her attention on the nurse. If she couldn’t completely blackout, she didn’t want to be out of it either, at least not until the drowsiness overtook her. “Is Kahn...okay?” She asks in a raspy whisper.

Juju silently walks over and looks for the jar, finding it he grabs it and walks over to the trays. Placing the jar carefully, he picks up the tray and brings it to Josleen. Leaning over and standing on his toes the boy watches her help the woman. When Aira comes to and asks about Kahn he looks around, eyes falling upon the man himself. This was the first time he actually took a good look at Orikahn. "I'll check! he blurts out and walks off towards the saber cat. Once at Orikahn's side he grabs a fistful of fur and leans forward to whisper into his ear. As backs up again he tightens his grip and moves to smack the saber cat back and forth. "Hey! Are you Kahn? Are you ok?" If he did smack the cat he would do so after each word.

Orikahn finally feels like he is catching his breath, but he doesn't want to sit up quite yet. The cool earth feels quite good against his back. Now that the sabercat has had a moment to let the adrenaline go, he can really begin feel the ache in his feet. He dries his best to drive it from his thoughts. Boy, he's thirsty. Kahn reaches for his wineskin only to realize, aha, he had discarded it with his pack. And his bow. And his quiver and his tomahawk and all his other things that had begun weighing him down along the road. With nothing to quench his thirst, he's just about to speak up when Josleen, clever considerate Josleen, thinks to have Oorgal put on a kettle for him. Well, that'll do nicely. Oorgal silently complies, and he slips inside, ducking to get through the door and standing once inside. In no time, the frost giant has stoked a roaring fire, and he's got water on to boil while he gathers up the herbs. Ah, Juju. Orikahn was grateful to Josleen and spirits alike when the six-year-old's attention had been diverted away from him. Now, when he feels the young elf's fingers tangle in his fur, he blinks over in surprise and, at last to the giants' delight, begins beating the cat across the face. Sounds of protest, small at first, begin escaping the cat, and eventually the crescendo into a roar. Orikahn's arm snaps up, and his wide pawlike hand reaches to try and wrap around Juju's middle, that is if the feline is fast enough to catch the little elf. The cat would like very much to pry his attacker away and hold him at arm's length. Oh, his sore whiskers.

Josleen , lulled into a false sense of authority by the boy’s obedience, doesn’t stop Juju from checking on Orikahn. She has no way of knowing the source of the boy’s hate for the sabercat. Imagine her wide-eyed, slack-jawed surprise when a six year old starts beating on a feared hunter. She drops the salve with a thudding clatter on the dirt-packed floor and rushes over to pick up Juju and pry him away. “Let go!” An adult in an adult-run world, the half-elf has no problem picking up children she doesn’t know. “Stop it!” She uses the same tone as earlier, tonally engineered to strike fear into children’s hearts. “Where are your parents?” She demands as she drags Juju to stand by the cabinet. As he respond she cuts him off. “Sit. You’re in time out.” What kid doesn’t know what time out means? she thinks, still oblivious to his history. Juju’s hatred, his parents, his behavior, all of it takes a back seat as Josleen returns to her important, time-sensitive, and hopefully life-saving work. She picks up the fallen salve, discards that which is covered in dirt -- a waste of precious medicine that earns Juju a glare. She washes her hands in a bowl of water cleansed with astringent then resumes her work. This tent feels like a circus. Why is there even a kid in this tent? “Oorgal, please give Orikahn his tea,” she mutters under her breath as she begins to thread the silk through a sewing needle. To Aira again, the patient who occupies most of Josleen’s headspace and focus, she says, “I’m going to start stitching. This thread is said to help with scarring a little. It helps reduce the opportunity for infection. It rots off on its own in a month, and can smell very badly in the meantime, but it’s the best thread we have.” She begins to sew living flesh like a patchwork on trousers. Her touch is as light as it can be.

Aira is pleasantly unaware of what is happening outside of the tent, her concentration solely on doing her best to fight off the drowsiness that is threatening to overtake her. The one thing that does manage to stir the huntress is Kahn's roar, which instinctively has Aira pushing herself to a seated position, the maneuver causing her own howl of pain and subsequent collapse back onto the cot. She pants and attempts to draw her knees up against her body in the classic fetal position, her position of comfort when pained. Josleen goes off to handle the situation, coming back and placing the small boy who now earns a look, in time out. Her unnaturally copper gaze is creepily unblinking as she watches his movements, like a hunter stalking prey if you will. Was he the one who caused Kahn to roar? Only when the nurse speaks to her does Aira shift her gaze. The elf wrinkles her nose slightly when Josleen explains about the smell of the thread, the small ridges on the bridge of her nose bringing attention to her dusting of freckles and thus her own youthfulness. Still, she nods in understanding and does her best to relax. "Is Kahn okay?" She asks once more through gritted teeth as it was not answered previously.

Juju tries to avoid the saber cats grab and instead has his throat grabbed and is held out at arms length. "Ack! He's ok!" he says as he tries to break free before Josleen grabs him and sits him down. "My momma and..." he is cut off and remains quiet for a short while giving the cat a glare he is given one as he looks back up to Josleen. "Not fair!" he begins to say, "Those nasty fermin killed my momma and papa!" as he says this the boy points at Orikahn. "Why does he get to lay down? Go look mean to him not me! I didn't do anything." the boy continues and stands as he speaks. Pointing to the saber cat the whole time he was speaking the boy found his way slowly toward the man while facing Josleen. Just barely within Orikahn's reach.

Orikahn resists the urge to squeeze as Juju hangs in his grasp, and it is to everyone's relief when Josleen arrives to pluck the child up and set him back in the tent. Spotting Aira's distress, Kahn cranes his neck, daring to sit up himself so he can try and get a better look at the wounded elf. He'd seen elves in various states of agony and dismemberment many times before, but for once in his life, the cat derives no pleasure from the sight. Oorgal gives Josleen a very dry look indeed as he steeps the cat's tea. Facts are facts, he was a little disappointed when the brat gave up the slapping, he along with the rest of the giants who only bother to make the most superficial attempts at hiding their laughter. Perhaps it worked out well for Kahn. Oorgal had initially planned to spike the tea with some laxative, but the humiliation of being beaten by a child seems punishment enough for one instance. There'll be plenty of time later to harass the cat. "Here, drink up, sourpuss." Consolingly, the giant gives Kahn a cordial pat and offers him a nice, large, steamy cup of tea, which the sabercat accepts with bedraggled gratitude. In a moment of well-deserved serenity, he sips. Oh, Juju. The boy's daring approach is met with bared saberfangs and a warning hiss. Kahn's onto his antics now, and he seems to want no part of it.

Josleen nods reassuringly to Aira. “Orikahn is very weary, but he will be just fine. You’re the one who needs help right now. Orikahn agrees.” She looks at the sabercat expecting some backup or validation here. “Right?” Then Juju starts whining that it isn’t fair, and Josleen is about to roll her eyes but stops short when the child reveals that he is an orphan. Oh. She instantly assumes he must be from Larket, and one of the missing children whose parents have been assassinated by the fermin in recent months. This changes everything. Suddenly he is a poor, dear boy in need of a little tender love and care as soon as Josleen has a moment to spare. Could be a while. Josleen is struggling to shed empathy on Juju while also doing a good job stitching up Aira. The elf can speak at least, a good sign. “Oh child,” she says to Juju in the softest tone she’s used with him yet. But she isn’t looking up -- she can’t. She doesn’t see the way the boy approaches the sabercat, a little poop disturber if ever there was one. No, he is now an innocent in her mind. She’s still speaking to him, “He’s not a fermin. Fermin look like rats. Come ov--” Then the hiss. “KAHN!!” Josleen stops stitching for a second to ‘look mean’ to Orikahn, as Juju wanted all along. “Can you not see that the poor boy has been through enough? Leave him alone. Boy, come over here. What’s your name? Come help me with this woman. Pay him no mind. He’s hurt and testy.” Another warning glance at Kahn, then she resumes her stitching. To Aira she asks, “What’s your name, miss?” Then seems to immediately forget that she asked Aira this question and rudely speaks again, this time to Oorgal, “I have a recipe for a white-fyre brew substitution pasted in the cabinet. I still can’t get the herb. Can you follow instructions and make one for this patient? Use the smaller wax comb for her dosage.” Her mind is split among too many tasks at once and conversations, such as with Aira and Juju, fall by the wayside. She quickly steals a look at Juju to see if he’s put distance between himself and the cat, and if he has, she resumes her stitching.

Aira is not as sympathetic to Juju's plights as Josleen and thus, doesn't particularly feel like his problems are an excuse for his actions. While the huntress had no qualms with children in general (she was an older sister once and currently taught some of the young elven children how to shoot their slings at the abandoned archery range) she didn't hold the same compassion for his orphan status. To her, parents were vastly overrated. Josleen's words of Kahn's well being do their job at calming her anxieties a bit, and Aira can't help but smirk slightly when she hears that familiar hiss. The elf is many things, but sweet is generally not in her repertoire so she scoffs at the nurse's assessment of her fellow hunter. "Perhaps if the little brat stopped instigating..." But she stops herself there before she can work herself up into complete agitation. Aira settles back down and closes her eyes to block out the various distractions. "I'm Ai--" she tries to answer Josleen before she gets cut off with her instructions. Once the huntress was sure she wasn't going to speak, she tries again. "I'm Aira."

Juju flinches at the hiss and runs over to Josleen's side. "If he is not a fermin what is he?" he asks curiously. When she begins to question him he looks down, "Momma and Papa never gave me a name. They couldn't talk like I can. But the humans who took me called me Juju." Looking over Aira while she was being stitched up he eyes her wounds carefully. When she calls him a brat his eyes narrow and the boy sticks his finger in part of the open wound and wiggles it around speaking as if he had never intended to do so. "Since you poke her and she doesn't cry with that." Speaking to Josleen referring to the stitching needle. "Does it hurt her when I do this?" he asks as his eyes move to look at Aira's face.

Orikahn shoots Josleen a mean look right back, but he calms down nonetheless, particularly when Juju flees to hide behind the bard. Quietly, contently, the herculean hunter resumes sipping his tea. The little spike of conflict does his spirit good, that and the herbs he drinks, and he begins finding the strength to will his aching legs and feet to move. Oorgal's finished with the fire, and now that he's had a chance to put away the teamaking things, he can can slip back toward Josleen, Aira, and Juju. "Course it hurts! Get your mitts out." He barks at the boy immediately upon observing the uncouth fingering. "Josleen, ma'am." Oorgal nods in respectful, albeit sternly displeased, apology to the presiding nurse, for he knows it's her hospital and, therefore, not his place to disrupt. "Orphans a'plenty among Frostmaw's own," he reminds her, "elves and giants a like." A true citizen of the city of war, Oorgal knows a feisty spirit when he sees one; he can alrady imagine those grubby mitts weilding a club or an axe some ten or twenty years from now. Josleen sees an orphan, he sees a recruit ready to be tucked into Frostmaw's martial fold. "You wanna be a warrior, someday, don't you?" That one always appeals to the boys. Lucky for Juju, Orikahn didn't notice the boy molesting Aira's open wounds; he's too busy getting back onto his aching feet.

Josleen looks away quickly when Orikahn glares at her. When he is weak and down it’s easy to forget how fearsome he is,but that look reminds her and she’s not that brave. With her attention back on the patient, she smiles weakly at Aira’s name (still a little rattled by the sabercat glare) and doesn’t argue the point about Juju instigating. That’s undeniable, but still, orphan and all... She says nothing politely. Juju’s explanation of his parents, and how he got his name (which Josleen judges to be ridiculous and cruel, if true), causes Josleen to look at him questioningly, but she doesn’t have the spare attention to focus on him and get to the bottom of it. He’s lucky she’s fishing out another length of worm silk when he goes to touch Aira, for had he attempted to do so right under her nose he would have never made contact. He’s double lucky she wasn’t looking at him when he did it, for had she seen the devilish gleam in his eyes, her opinion of him would have flipped yet another 180. But Aira’s screams jerk her away from the jar and her hand lashes out like a serpent to grab Juju’s wrist, squeeze hard to weaken his grip, and yank his hand away. His hand no longer over Aira’s she slaps it hard to leave a mark and make it sting. “NEVER! Never touch a patient! What is wrong with you?” Mild child abuse is fine by Josleen, having been raised among farmers and school teacher’s quick with a ruler. Her own knuckles had been rapped as a child, and she pays the cycle forward without thinking it wrong in the slightest. Look, Josleen turned out just fine, as per her own estimation. “I’m so sorry,” she coos to the elf. “Is the candy working? I have more.” When Oorgal begins trying to recruit a six year old to war, she sends him a sidelong, judgmental look but says nothing. That’s the culture and no one is being turned into a child warrior right this second. Aira is still more important.

Aira thinks this child is awfully lucky her bow was destroyed in her hunting excursion or she might have used it in him. For when he digs his finger into her wound she lets out a hellish scream and turns her face into the cot in an attempt to stifle it. Josleen's punishment of Juju is lost on the huntress who hunches over herself and lets out a slew of expletives in her native tongue. When she eventually stops seeing stars, she is only left with fury and she once again attempts to sit up and simultaneously push Josleen out of the way in order to grab Juju about the shoulders and give him a firm shake herself. "Why you little..." she pants and winces as she consorts her body with her efforts.

Juju looks up at the words spoken to him from Oorgal to stop, then suddenly his hand is yanked and smacked. He rubs his hand and backs away just in time too as Aira reaches for him he scurries away quickly. He ignored Josleen, he simply didnt know what was wrong with him. All he knew was that he was different. Finding himself in front of Oorgal he turns around to hear him ask if he wanted to be a warrior. "No!" he makes a disgusted face while shaking his head. Then his face brightens as he says, "I'm going to fight those fermin." he says this pointing at Orikahn. "I'm going to be a fighter." The boy started took a deep breath and then suddenly threw a punch into the air, continuing to do so, all the while concentrating on his fists hitting their imaginary targets.

Orikahn nearly jumps out of his skin when Aira screams, and despite his soles does the cat limp back into the infirmary, eyes sharply darting from one face to another. He doesn't have to search long to gather that Juju, again, is the source of distress. Briefly, quietly, he studies Aira's suffering, but this his eyes move over. Over the brim of his mug, with piqued intentiveness, Orikahn watches the elven child declare his defiance and throw his punches. The cat's bushy tail sets to twitching like the pendulum of a clock: a countdown clock. Oorgal, meanwhile, merely laughs off the boy's words. He'll come around. "So you shall," he assures the boy. "Was there anything else, Josleen ma'am?" The giant looks to her. It sounds like a polite question; Oorgal's ready to be on his way.

Josleen tries her best to calm Aira by holding her hands up, palms out, and gently pushing on the elf’s shoulders. “Easy. Mind your wounds. The stitching is coming undone.” Josleen will need to start over in places. “Easy, Aira. It’s done.” Palms still braced against Aira’s shoulders,she glances over her shoulder at Oorgal and says, “I can handle it from here. Thank you for your help.” Then to Juju, “He’s not a fermin. He’s a feline. More specifically, a ti--” She’s about the specify cat species (incorrectly) then realizes she doesn’t actually know for sure. This could be a foot in mouth moment, and so she just shuts up. She eyes Orikahn’s energy level then says. “There’s a wash basin behind that curtain.” Her chin juts to the curtain indicatively. “You can wash your fee-” Her mouth clamps up again. Should she call them feet or paws? Is one of those offensive? If so, which one? Her chin now points to his feet/paws. “If you rummage through the cabinet I can point you towards a salve that you can apply to soothe them. There’s also a robe for giants near the wash basin if you want to dress.” Scratchy cheap robes at that. Turning back to Aira she asks, “How’s the pain? Can you drink? The white-fyre brew will help you regain your strength. I also have some fizzy potion to help you replace the blood you lost a little more quickly.”

Aira begrudgingly allows Josleen to settle her back down onto the cot. Her tirade isn't over, however, and she continues to mumble some rather not-so-nice phrases about Juju under her breath in elven. She completes her verbal assault with a dramatic huff and continues to stew in silence. She contemplates telling the boy about Kahn and how he is in the market for a new garland of skulls but besides she better not. He's a -child- she tries to remind herself, but Aira's not exactly patient. She's also not exactly nice under the best of circumstances. Throw in her bow being destroyed and getting herself nearly eaten by a dragon, she's feeling pretty edgy. The huntress takes out her frustration on the candy which she gnashes between her teeth with a loud crunch. Aira only grunts in response to the pain. It's awful, but she won't complain. "I'm fine," she says shortly. Obviously, not true. "And yes I can drink."

Juju stops throwing punches as he listens to Josleen tell him Orikahn is not a fermin. Blinking a few times and curious the boy walks up to the cat and reaches out to grab his moving tail. Should he grab it the boy would gently tug. Whether he grabs it or not he would continue on to ask, "Your not a fermin? Your a feline? Whats a feline?" he pauses for a moment then looks up into the cats eyes. "I don't know where the fermin are. I thought you were one. Could you help me find and fight them?" the boy sits on the ground and scratches his ear with his foot before he says, "Full of spit and grit. Remember?" he asks.

Orikahn gives his tail a deft flick, keen to keep it out of Juju's grasp. His three eyes glint down at the boy. "We'll start with rats, first," he growls down. "And where'd you learn to scratch your ears like that?" Not that he'll stick around for an answer. Per Josleen's suggestion, he's off to find a basin. In a moment, he's rejoined them to soak his feet, quickly staining the water with a rusty red tint. Nevermind the robe, he didn't bother. Interested in Josleen's handiwork, he studies the stitches from where he sits. So, you can just stitch someone together like a bag? Kahn is dubious; he'll be interested to see if Aira survives until tomorrow's light. "It was a dragon," he explains to Josleen, unprompted, and not particularly caring if he interrupts her. His eyes move briefly to his tea, his brow furrows in approval, and he takes another sip.

Josleen glances up from her work periodically to supervise the sabercat-child interaction. Seems as fine as it could be considering the circumstances. Juju’s peculiar scratching method disturbs her. He seems too wild. Wild boys grow up to be dangerous men. She grins at Aira’s fiery temper and takes it as a good sign. She hands the white-fyre brew to the elf, then hands her a bag of several bright green mushrooms. “Eat one of these now. They’ll help repair the damage you sustained to the lower digestive tract. You’re lucky whatever attacked you didn’t sever the tract all the way through.” That’s when Orikahn informs her that the attacker was a dragon. “Extremely lucky, in that case. Eat one of these every day for two weeks.” Her needle and thread moves on now to the worst part of the wound. Front and back where necessary, asking Aira to turn over now that the woman seems capable of at least rolling a little. Once the stitching is complete, she reapplies the same salve she was employing earlier over the entire wound. From here on out the healing it quite straightforward. Drink this brew, eat that mushroom, rest, and wait for the worm silk to rot out. Josleen writes down instructions about how to keep the wound clean, and when to take what medicine, on a piece of parchment then hands that to Aira.

Aira scoffs as she hears Orikahn's question about the stitching. "I stitched you up at one point," she says, talking over her shoulder in his general direction, her voice uncharacteristically weak. "After the attack in the graveyard out at the ruins." Honestly, he was so ill she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't remembered it. Aira was tired, she was weak. All she wanted to do was sleep and as nice as Josleen was being, the huntress always had her guard up. That, and she didn't trust that tiny elf boy. For the most part, however, Aira remains a decent patient, rolling when instructed, nodding at instructions, not being her usual difficult self (Kahn can attest to it). When everything seems done Aira takes the piece of paper and reads it over, drinking the potion and grimacing at the mushrooms--she never liked them--but does eats one anyway. When that's done it takes all of Aira's remaining energy to speak. "I need to sleep now," she announces to the room at large before turning her face into the cot. "Thanks, Kahn," she mumbles, secretly hoping he didn't hear her; she wouldn't want the hunter to think she was getting soft or anything.

Juju nods at Orikahns words and was about to speak when the cat walks off, so the boy just sat there quietly. He watched as they stitched up the woman and as Aira sat up in pain. It took him a while to realize just exactly what was wrong her. Then he heard something called a dragon attacked her. He walks up to the trip and looks at Aira, "A dragon got you. I don't know what that is but don't worry. I'll fight em for you." He nods as if it was agreed upon. Turns around and throws a few punches, the speed making a whistling noise with each punch. "Have fun you....whats the word?.....creatures!" he says, "I'ma find me a dragon!" With that the child runs over to the massive black wolf that was accompanying him. Juju jumps on top of the wolf, "Lets go brother. We are fighting this thing called a dragon." they then ride off set on their mission.

Orikahn listens to Josleen's prescriptions with half an ear. It's his plan to stay at Aira's side, but he won't announce this. He'll just be here. At Juju's declaration, Kahn sips his tea and says nary a word to stop the boy from riding off.

Josleen nods at Aira’s request for sleep. She gets up and rolls a curtain on wheels as a partition to give Aira some privacy. She’s about to shoo the cat and child away, when the child mounts a Sven damn wolf Josleen hadn’t seen until now. What. She blinks as the spectacle sprints away. With only Kahn left, she doesn’t shoo him. He seems fine when left alone. No hissing or roaring. She goes to the medicine cabinet to clean up, then waves goodbye to Orikahn and leaves for the day. The giants know to keep watch, and how to reach her in case of emergencies.