As Vilde and Finnian came into the tent with a critically wounded Tultow, the final thread holding Barrett's sanity together snapped with an almost audible twang. Vulpuz's saggy left ear¹, now there's a battlecat in the infirmary.
Barrett beat a path over to Darragh, who was floundering with Kaii on the cot. Looking down at the half dressed fox, Barrett planted his paws on his hips. "Very good, you've managed to unbutton his shirt so far!" he growled, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Have you found his injuries yet, or are you just admiring the view?" Barrett glanced down at Kaii -- and seeing no immediately visible wounds, looked back at poor Darragh (who was doing his best). Barrett seized the stoat's wrists and lifted them up for him to view. "When you can't see with your eyes, feel with your paws!" he chided, waggling the boy's paws for emphasis. "Gates, you have to actually touch your patient!"
Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Silvie was having a touching moment with Swifttail. Barrett gagged. "And for crying out loud, feel with your paws, not with your heart! We've got plenty of that going on as it is!" he groaned to Darragh before throwing the stoat's paws back to him. He had to catch Silvie before the foppy fox flamboyantly flounced afield. Barrett dashed after the bard, aiming to catch him by the tail if necessary.
Snatching the fox's fancy feathered accoutrements on the way out, he stormed out of the infirmary. When Silv turned around, he'd be met with a blood soaked scowling pine marten, drawn up to his full height.
"Now look here, you sentimental, dandytailed peril magnet!" he fumed. "Put that sword of yers away in yer belt and think with your head for once!" Roughly -- but with sufficient care to avoid fashion related fatalities (as the fabled hat was almost lost at sea earlier) -- Arthur plunked the hat down on Silvie's head. "From now on, if y'want something killed, you don't kill them with your sword, you kill them with your fancy hat. See the fancy hat? Seabeasts listen to the fancy hat, because they don't have a fancy hat -- and you do."
Circular reasoning aside, Barrett paused. Nothing irked him more than poor leadership. Poor leadership got beasts killed -- but as he studied the young fox, he realized that Silvie wasn't the problem. He was just thrust into a position he wasn't ready for. The pine marten took a calming breath, and folded his paws across his chest. The kit just needed to be pointed in the right direction.
"...Tultow's out of commisison. He'll be lucky to make it back to Bully -- but if you want to give him a fighting chance, you'll have to do his job. And that means leadership, not wrecklessness. If I go back in there and try to take care of evey beast at once, they'll all die. I can only do so much. Leadership means making hard decisions -- but it also means asking for help. That stoat in there can't tell Kaii's tail from his head -- and neither can I, most days! But he's still advancing care, and letting me focus on the critical patients. Y'see? Leaders ask for help, and delegate. Now, here's what we need."
Barrett wiped his bloody paw off on his pantleg, and fetched a clean white sheet of paper and a pen from his breast pocket. The paper soon had smudges of blood on it -- but not enough to obscure his writing. As he carefully scrawled out the priorities, he read them aloud to Silvertongue, and elaborated.
"1. Wounded to tent: Seasons shine on us, Talinn better be back soon. And when he does, we're leaving. Morale will be utterly destroyed if we leave the wounded here on Urk, cryin' out to us as we leave'm to the shrews. Find all the wounded out on the field and get them to me."
"2. Dead to ship: One boat! Only one. I've got four dead in the tent, and I'd like to not leave their bodies behind on Urk. Get one, ONE boat, load them up -- and anyone else on the battlefield. Get them back to the Hide. Two beasts at most. At the very least, get me their names so we have something to tell their families other than 'presumed dead'."
"3. Stage Exit: As soon as the captian is back, we're out. You understand me? The equipment, the tent -- nothing matters. Assign the crew to their boats, assign beasts as rowers, get a headcount. Make sure no one is missing."
Barrett tore the sheet cleanly off, and pressed it into Silv's chest. "You're it, Silvie..." he said, forgoing his usual formalities. "The only person who can get these things done is you. And since you can't do them by yourself, you've got to lead others to do it for you. That's not cowardice if y'aren't on the frontlines, you've already shown you're no coward. Now you show us that you're a leader of beasts."
"The captain picked you for a reason. Don't let him down. Don't let us down."
Without waiting for a reply, Barrett briskly turned on his heel, and headed back into the infirmary. "Mr. Swifttail, dry your face, th'saltwater's not good for your complexion. Finny, get the blue substance for Kaii, and get me a golden vial!"
