"They put the last stich through the nose? Eughh... ...why do they do that?"
"Battles are chaos, Finn. You think someone's dead, and leave them... only to find they're still breathing an hour later."
"But still! Can't you just... shake them? Why d'you gotta... hurt'm like that?"
"You gotta be sure, Finn. If they're dead, it won't hurt them. The alternative is you risk burying them alive."
"..."
"...I know. Death is a terrible business, isn't it?"
- - -
Finn pulled himself up onto the deck of the Hide, and collapsed onto it in an undignified manner. The familiar smell of the stone scrubbed planks was so pleasant that he gave them a grateful little kiss. The planks seemed to draw his weary body downwards, and Finn found it nearly impossible to stand. Looking out along the makeshift graveyard, Finn watched the crew moving about in somber silence as they laid the fallen in neat little rows, and worked to sew their bodies up in their hammocks.
Barrett had done his best to prepare the young kit to see death. He'd told him what to expect, what it sounded like, what it looked like -- but there was nothing that could prepare you for actually seeing the strong beasts like limp rag dolls with vacant stares. Unsettled that he was laying next to the fallen, Finn pushed himself to his feet, and stood watch while the crew worked the burial rituals.
Captain Talinn was still down in the longboat, waiting to be raised up in a blanket -- and Finn could see the beasts working with the pullies to get him aboard. Mr. Barrett was supervising the process -- and turned to find Finn. "Mr. Brightfur, don't dally!" called Barrett wearily. "Come... fetch the... carry my instruments to the infirmary!"
Finn could tell there was something off with how Arthur called to him, but didn't put much stock in it. "Aye, sir!" he called in response, briskly trotting over to fetch the pine marten's surgical kit. The captain was just being lowered to the deck now, and several strong beasts were grabbing the sides of the blanket to help carry him down to the infirmary.
"Don't worry, Cap'n! We'll get you back in one piece!" he said pleasantly, the tone in his voice betraying how little he knew of the dire situation.
Barrett stumbled along with the crew, face drawn with exhaustion. His left arm clutched over his ribs to stabilize the wound on his shoulder, and his right arm rose, trembling as he braced against the bulkhead. "Set him down on the table! Clear the infirmary" he ordered in a husky voice as he stumbled over to the surgical kit. His paws fumbled with the latch, squandering precious seconds as he flipped the top lid open, exposing the precious medication. The blue bottles stared at him invitingly, but the pine marten tried not to think about them. "Finn... ...fetch a basin of warm water. I need it to... I need warm water, I need fresh towels, warm the captain!" he panted, rather out of breath. "Mr. Harper, cut the captain's clothes... we need to get down to his wounds..."
Finn's stomach dropped as he caught his first real glimpse of the captain. Shrapnel in his forearm, bones grotesquely poking out from his fur, limbs splayed out in unnatural fashion. The foxkit let out a startled cry. "M-Mr. Barrett!"
"Water, Finn! Towels!"
@Talinn Ryalor
@Gyles F. Stowett
@Darragh Harper
"Battles are chaos, Finn. You think someone's dead, and leave them... only to find they're still breathing an hour later."
"But still! Can't you just... shake them? Why d'you gotta... hurt'm like that?"
"You gotta be sure, Finn. If they're dead, it won't hurt them. The alternative is you risk burying them alive."
"..."
"...I know. Death is a terrible business, isn't it?"
- - -
Finn pulled himself up onto the deck of the Hide, and collapsed onto it in an undignified manner. The familiar smell of the stone scrubbed planks was so pleasant that he gave them a grateful little kiss. The planks seemed to draw his weary body downwards, and Finn found it nearly impossible to stand. Looking out along the makeshift graveyard, Finn watched the crew moving about in somber silence as they laid the fallen in neat little rows, and worked to sew their bodies up in their hammocks.
Barrett had done his best to prepare the young kit to see death. He'd told him what to expect, what it sounded like, what it looked like -- but there was nothing that could prepare you for actually seeing the strong beasts like limp rag dolls with vacant stares. Unsettled that he was laying next to the fallen, Finn pushed himself to his feet, and stood watch while the crew worked the burial rituals.
Captain Talinn was still down in the longboat, waiting to be raised up in a blanket -- and Finn could see the beasts working with the pullies to get him aboard. Mr. Barrett was supervising the process -- and turned to find Finn. "Mr. Brightfur, don't dally!" called Barrett wearily. "Come... fetch the... carry my instruments to the infirmary!"
Finn could tell there was something off with how Arthur called to him, but didn't put much stock in it. "Aye, sir!" he called in response, briskly trotting over to fetch the pine marten's surgical kit. The captain was just being lowered to the deck now, and several strong beasts were grabbing the sides of the blanket to help carry him down to the infirmary.
"Don't worry, Cap'n! We'll get you back in one piece!" he said pleasantly, the tone in his voice betraying how little he knew of the dire situation.
Barrett stumbled along with the crew, face drawn with exhaustion. His left arm clutched over his ribs to stabilize the wound on his shoulder, and his right arm rose, trembling as he braced against the bulkhead. "Set him down on the table! Clear the infirmary" he ordered in a husky voice as he stumbled over to the surgical kit. His paws fumbled with the latch, squandering precious seconds as he flipped the top lid open, exposing the precious medication. The blue bottles stared at him invitingly, but the pine marten tried not to think about them. "Finn... ...fetch a basin of warm water. I need it to... I need warm water, I need fresh towels, warm the captain!" he panted, rather out of breath. "Mr. Harper, cut the captain's clothes... we need to get down to his wounds..."
Finn's stomach dropped as he caught his first real glimpse of the captain. Shrapnel in his forearm, bones grotesquely poking out from his fur, limbs splayed out in unnatural fashion. The foxkit let out a startled cry. "M-Mr. Barrett!"
"Water, Finn! Towels!"
@Talinn Ryalor
@Gyles F. Stowett
@Darragh Harper