It was a windy, rather nasty chill night, not quite a storm, but enough for most creatures with the choice to choose to stay indoors and bar the windows. The result of this is a visibly larger amount of washup than is likely usual. Most of it is mundane. Scraps of wood. Torn, dirty sailcloth. There are some larger, obviously shaped pieces of wood here this time, however. And three sand-covered, waterlogged bodies. One of which is still breathing.

Despite the adverse weather, Rahier has decided to go for a little stroll. Exiting the small fissure of rock that serves as the mountain's main entryway, the white healer tugs the collar of his uniform upwards and jams his paws into his pockets, before continuing in his usual direction- down towards the shore itself. Despite being his usual, unobservant self, the larger-than-usual pieces of debris are cause for one of those raised brows. The hare pushes at a few of them with the tip of his boot, moving slowly along. In the darkness, the bodies are just more debris to his casual glance, even as he moves to nudge at one of them with his boot, paws still in his pocket.

It's a rat--ragged, coarse looking, with half a dozen piercings in his ear, and one through his nose. Searat. Looks as though he drowned. His companion, also a rat, is a short jog down the shore. The third is...well, it would be difficult to tell exactly what it is, as it's covered in sand, appears half wrapped around a thick piece of wood that could easily have been a piece of mast, and is a distance away. However, prove of its survival comes in a sudden explosion of gagging and rushing seawater. Urg, lovely. This continues for several rounds, until the creature flops back against the mast, and breathes the salted air with hungry lungs. The movement comes with a slight metal clink. And then a laugh. Quiet, unbelievably hoarse, extremely out of place--but it's a laugh all the same.

The healer blanches. Urgh, is this a dead body he's poking at? Rather than check the body, Rahier steps backwards, giving the wreckage a more critical glance. Might simply be some of the floating remains of one of the CC's ships they broke up washing ashore, he figures. The buck shrugs. Maybe he should go tell an officer, and-- a laugh? Long ears swiveling to that most unexpected of noises, the grimace is replaced by a look of momentary confusion. "S'anyone there? 'Ello?" Stepping around a large piece of the former-ship, he makes for the more distant shape.

Farren continues laughing, despite how painfully her lungs protest. Strangely enough, she doesn't seem to hear Rahier's call, although her own noise is far too quiet to have drowned him out. The metal clink is explained as she tries to move again--there are manacles around her wrists. The good thing is that the chain linking them has been broken neatly in half. The bad thing is that both of these halves are wrapped tightly around the broken mast, which is itself half buried in sand. She doesn't seem to mind that right now. Instead, she turns her head toward the fleeing tide, and shouts as loudly as she can, which isn't all that loud at all, "Ha! Ha! See, ye blasted fat arsed excuse for a bloated toad? I beat ye! I said I'd beat ye an' I did, ye l--" Gag. More
seawater comes up, interrupting her diatribe. She continues it as soon as she's done though. "An' I never did like yer wife, she were as ugly as a starved gull an' three times as featherbrain'd, yer kids're daft, an' I ain't
fetchin' ye any more ale!"

Rahier gets his answer anyhow, in the form of her yells. That there is in fact, someone there. :P The patroller makes his way yet closer, boots tracking up clumps of the wet sand. He's gotten close enough to catch most of the tirade.. as if he could miss it. The look of confusion's long since been traded for one of bemusement, despite the situation. The muted bootfalls grow ever closer as Rahier approaches, finally, stopping just a bit from the half-drowned, sandy creature. Noting, with his brown eyes, her manacled situation, the buck grunts in a rather impressive show of elocution.

Farren falls to laughing hoarsely again, her back against the sand, arms held tightly by the chains and wood, and head leaned back. Finally, her right ear...flicks. Eh? Sound? The laughing stops, and her eyes move up, getting just the outline of Rahier's upside down form at the very edge of her vision. Her joviality fades. "...Ah...damn..."

Rahier tilts his head, long, white ears swaying to the side. Rather than retort, the healer is apparently evaluating her. Well.. she's breathing, and not in immediate danger of death, he supposes. :P So, he takes the un-imposing route, and falls to his knees next to Farren, and the mast. Business first. ;p "Mrf. Quite th'predicament," is his comment, reaching out to touch one of the tangled chains.

Nevertheless, Farren tries to pull back from the touch. And fails, obviously. She's quite thoroughly pinned. "Eheh...look, mate. I ain't got anythin' to buy ye off," so saying, she tries to twist the hip with the shiny blade further into the sand, "but sure'n ye can see I ain't worth the trouble o' capturin', eh? Lookit me, all skin'n'bones. Couldn't poss'bly make it worth yer while t'try an' slave, right?" The further she talks, the hoarser her voice gets. Dry throat, dry mouth. Licking her lips proves to be a really stupid thing to do, as she gets a strong taste of salt and sand.

Rahier gives her a neutral glance, eyes traveling from the mast. The buck's nose wrinkles, before looking back to the piece of wood. "Don't think y'll have t'worry 'bout that. D'I look like a bloody slaver?" Though there's not really any affront to it, as it might be with another woodlander. Placing a paw on the exposed piece of mast, he seems to be pondering. "'Sides, can't have you stuck out here on our beach.."

Farren blinks. "Ye're not?" She seems to take a closer, more scrutinizing look at Rahier. She brightens. "S'pose ye're not. How 'bout that?" An attempt to at least pull herself into a sitting position fails, denied by the twisted chains. A second attempt is thwarted when she tries to put weight on her strangely twisted ankle. "Well, ye can't blame me for--Aggh!" She grumbles a slew of nasty curses under her breath.

Rahier runs his paw along the side of the mast, scooping a small bit of sand. Hrm. "Wonder, if'n I could lift it? 'Nough f'you t'shimmy out, like?" The hare looks to her, for a possible confirmation...just before she cries out. On impulse, he reaches for her. "What, what?" Maybe he should've made a more thorough examination? ;p His head turns, doing just that. Noting, perhaps, her ankle.

Farren again shrinks from the touch. "...Nothin', nothin'," she mutters. "S'just my bloody ankle. It got crunched're somethin' when the ship broke apart. Yeh, try an' lift it. I'll pull out."

Rahier withdraws the paw, frowning somewhat. Hrm. "Ah. Can take care o'that in th'infirmary." Looking away, he nods. "Alrigh'.. let's see.." The hare shuffles along on his knees, to the end of the mast. Digging with his paws, he slings away enough sand that he can get some purchase to grab the log underneath. "...Ready?" ;p And... lift he does. Oof.

Farren scrambles backwards as soon as she feels the wood lift, making certain to keep all weight off the bad ankle. The chains are well buried, but without the weight of the log on top of them, it's the work of only a few moments to get each end loose. "Got it!"

Rahier grunts again. Oy, exertion! ;p "Ach, good." That she's free, the hare releases the log, to thump down onto the sand. Standing, and brushing some of the sand from his dampened pants, he looks to her. "..So.. s'cold out here. Y'wanna... head inside, so I can take a look at that ankle o' yours?" Rahier gestures back at the looming mountain. As always, all the more imposing at nighttime. :p

Farren sits back and stretches her arms, grateful for the sudden freedom of movement. She then takes care to wrap the chain ends from the manacles around each wrist like some sort of pathetic bracelet, in order to keep this sort of thing from happening again. "Eh? Inside?" She follows Rahier's gesture to...squeak. "In there? Y'live in a bloody mountain?" That glows?
Rahier continues dusting the sand from his pants and paws, not bothering to look up as he replies. "'Course I do." After all, it's a matter of course to him.. and he gets this question from most everyone he happens to find on the beach. ;p So he's used to it. Straightening, once more, he looks back to her. "Need help?" As in, support, for that ankle. "'Tis only a short walk."

Well, Farren isn't about to turn down the offer of help, just because he happens to live in quite the unusual place. In fact, her initial shock fading, she appears rather fascinated. She leans off her hip at the question, revealing the sandy, but still very obviously valuable blade thrust into her belt. "Eh..." She'd so much rather do it herself. She doesn't want to be touched. But a quick attempt to stand on her own proves that such a thing is just not going to happen. Along with her hurt ankle, the rest of her is so exhausted from the sea battering that it outright refuses to function properly. "Yeh," she mutters. "Guess I do..."
Rahier nods, a small inclination of his head. The healer steps over, and.. offers his shoulder, arm, and all that, in support. ;p Another glance is given to the rest of the wreckage.. well, he'll have to get some of the sentries to come check it out. Eh. "'Kay. Jus' up there." He indicates, with his free paw, the not-too-distant niche.
Farren latches on to the offered arm and scrambles upright. In contrast to everything else, her grip is still quite strong. She keeps off her bad ankle almost completely, hopping on the other paw and only just touching the ground with her bad one.
Rahier smiles, dimly, as the marten latches onto his uniformed arm. "S'good," he mumbles, and.. begins to walk, towards the entrance, leaving the woebegone wreckage (and bodies ;p) behind. At the entrance itself, he simply passes the lone, staring sentry by. Not that it's odd that he's escorting a wet marten along. At all. :P
Farren hobbles along with Rahier, trying her best not to lean /too/ heavily. She mostly fails at this, but it isn't as though she's all that heavy anyway. She turns her head and gives the sentry a cheeky grin as they pass by.

Salamandastron: Secondary Infirmary
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Salamandastron *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
This is the Secondary Infirmary of Salamandastron, the room to where all
wounded beasts who must be treated immediately are taken. There is a
small alley in the room, with 5 beds each on both sides of it, the back
wall just a mass of cupboards holding herbs, though not as many. One of
the cupboards has no door, and a string dangles down, looping around a
pulley somewhere below the opening. It is a dumbwaiter, leading up to
the Main Infirmary, used for transporting herbs and other medical
supplies to the Secondary Infirmary if need be.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Visible Exits:
[Out] to Level One Intersection
With:
[DYN] Please state the nature of the medical emergency. (Rahier)
Rahier arrives with: Farren
Sure, it's probably pretty apparent now that Rahier and the sentry weren't the only hares in the mountain, by far. Having led quickly through the dim first level intersection and its myriad of passageways and doors, the healer opens the door to the secondary infirmary, and leads the marten inside. Some of the cots are still sparingly occupied with a few wounded hares, and some nurses tool about. "'Ere we are. Let's sit over there.." Leading her, to a nearby, unoccupied cot.
Farren's mouth has been permanently open since passing inside the mountain, and has grown increasingly wider at every new passage, every new hare they pass. She holds off on any talking until she's settled on the cot, and still, she is quiet while she allows her muscles to stop protesting. Finally, she turns her awed expression on Rahier. "Ye've got an entire city in here, mate." Well, as though he wasn't aware of that himself. She notes the wounded hares with another blink. "Rockslide fall on 'em or somethin'?"
Rahier grins rather widely at her awed expression, chuckling as he turns and delves out of sight, into a nearby cupboard. "Yep. Still makes me stop an' wonder, once in awhile." Hehe. Rahier steps away from the cupboard, bearing his prize- a load of clean towels. He sets them next to the marten. Though it's still much, much warmer in here than it is outside, what with the fireplace cracking, and all. Reaching over to grab a stool, he sits next to her cot. But, ah, the other hares. "Nah.. 'twas a battle, 'bout.. a week ago. But, let's see that ankle."

Farren snatches immediately for the towels. Ahh, clean, clean cloth against her fur. And warmth. As sometimes happens, she shivers in reaction to the warming up, and wraps the towel tightly around her shoulders, the chains on her wrists clinking. The request to see her ankle is met with an uneasy hesitation. But. She does turn and lift her leg enough for him to get a look at it. A probe ought to reveal that is is badly bruised and sprained...possibly cracked. But not actually broken. That twisting is the result of some other, previous injury. You ask, "Battle eh? Who wit'?"

Rahier grunts, in his examination, that it's now apparent the twisting doesn't mean it's broken. He'd thought that might've been the case. At her question, she's given an absent glance. "Ah, one sec." And, off he goes... returning some time later, with an assortment of items balanced on top of a pillow. He retakes his spot on the stool, sliding the bunch of doctoral items off onto the cotside table, and placing the pillow on the cot, near her ankle. "Righto. I'll jus' need y't'keep lyin' back, an' put y'ankle on this." Business first, as usual. But, "The battle.. hrm. 'Twas an' organization, th'Corsair Confederation. We had been at odds with 'em f'months.."

Farren continues to look uneasy, especially at the collection of medical supplies. Still, she does as asked, lying back on the cot, and lifting her bad ankle to settle it on the pillow. To distract herself, she continues the conversation. "Corsair Confederation? Eh, never heard o' that lot. Daft sort o' name for corsairs. Should've put somethin' like blood or murder or swords inter their name, that'd have been better. Who won? An' why'd they go an' do somethin' s'stupid as to attack this bloody giant rock?"

Rahier reaches to the cotside table, grabbing up a small, cold compress he'd whipped up in the rear of the infirmary. This, he presses to her ankle. "This'll help," the healer explains, before looking back to her, with a small chuckle. "Well... they didn't really attack th'mountain. 'Twas more of a... series of battles, on th'beaches, an' elsewhere. They had their victories, an' we had ours.. but ours was the last." He looks back to the ankle, with a momentarily satisfied expression. "Suffice t'say, they won't be botherin' our beaches ever again." Being that.. they're mostly all dead. ;P

"Oh..." Farren pauses, then suddenly grins. "Good fer you then. Never much liked corsairs anyway. Smelly lot." She sighs as the cold compress touches her ankle. It's a relief in and of itself, to be sure.

Rahier chuckles again, but deigns from shrugging, as he's holding the compress over her ankle. "So. What's your story, then?" Well.. it's fairly obvious that she was on a ship, of some kind, and.. the manacles could also be telling. "Th'.. ah, fat toad?" Recalling her yelling, with that dim smile.

Farren's grin turns more genuine. She puts her paws behind her head, a gesture that would be comfortable except for the fact that the metal around her wrists isn't likely to make a good pillow. "Well, he weren't actually a toad. But sure if'n he weren't related to 'em. He were this fat ol' fox, wit' an even fatter wife an' seven thick offspring. He could be right nasty though. Said he didn' care for my cheek."

Judging that it's been enough time, and that the cold compress isn't quite so cold anymore, Rahier tosses it aside and grabs two more items from the table. A jar, and a roll of bandages. Farren's description of the bloated fox gets a wide grin and a small laugh from the healer, as he pops the lid off the jar. "An', what happened t'bring you t'shore?" His paw dips into the jar, scooping up some of the.. interesting smelling numbing paste. Which he proceeds to slather onto the ankle.

Farren lifts her muzzle. "Well, one night 'e went an' flew into a right rage. He was always gettin' drunk, like me pa, but he got so drunk he beat me unconscious fer lookin' at him funny, so's I thought, enough's enough, an' I slipped me chains an' snuck down ter the harbor, an' crept aboard the first ship I could find that was puttin' out."

You say, "Took back me blade too, 'cause a fat toad doesn' need more jewels to drool on."

Rahier takes the slightly foul smell of the paste with grace. He's used to it. Capping the jar and setting it aside, he rubs his paw off on one of the unused towels. The bandages remain at-paw. There's the typical disapproving frown at the beginning of her story, before the small smile returns. "Yeah.. 'tis a nice lookin' weapon," comments Rahier, as he begins to bandage up the ankle, nodding for her to continue.

Farren rubs her fist over the stones on the pommel, grinning. "Wasn' his t'begin with anyway. He took it from me." She grimaces as the wrapping begins, trying to hold her ankle still. "So's I stowed aboard that ship, an' they left port, an' everything went real well for a time...but then one of 'elm found me out, an' the captain, 'e didn't like stowaways none, not at all. 'E took me blade, an' had me chained up in t'hold till 'e could figure out what t'do with me." She wrinkles her nose. "Ye ever been in a ship hold afore?"

"No," admits Rahier, shaking his head, though his eyes remain on his work. "Never really been on a ship.. at all." A small shrug. As for the bandages, Rahier's skilled paws aren't stopping at the usual few layers. He's wrapping rather tightly, and thickly; aiming for the point of immobility. "...How was it?"

Farren's nose remains wrinkled. "Smells rancid. Ships're wonderful things, till ye get below decks. An' there's always water down there too...nasty smelly water. So it wasn' too nice. An' I was kicking meself for gettin' caught an' losin' me knife again. So that's where I was until last night." She pauses. "Least I think it was last night..."

Rahier continues wrapping. Her ankle should be looking quite bulbous, from the bandaging. "Ah. Think I'm quite 'appy with m'paws stayin' on solid ground." And, he finishes bandaging, tying the whole thing off with a small knot. Task done, he now turns to her, with plain interest written over his features. It's not often he meets someone from the outside with a story. ;p "What 'appened?"

Farren adjusts her ankle, now that he's finished. Just a little to the side. "Well I'm not too sure, meself. There was a whole lot of arguin' I heard, an' some blades bein' drawn and clashed about. Then the whole ship just shivered, an' there was this awful crack, and a whole bunch more shoutin' following that. An' the place where I was chained, it t'all started fillin' up with water, real quick like."

Rahier's brow furrows at this, and he hrms. "So y'were tied up.. an' it was sinkin'?" Hee. Peril! Rahier looks now perfectly enthralled by the story. His eyes wander to the broken chains, then back to her face. "..Howdja manage t'get out?" His tone is near a whisper. Attention rapt. ;p

Farren seems quite encouraged by Rahier's interest. "Yeh, sinkin' fast it was. I couldn' even swim up, 'cause the chains were attached to the floor'n all. I tried shoutin', but everyone else was shoutin', so 'course they didn't hear me. An' they probably wouldn''ve cared too much. An' then I couldn' shout, 'cause the water was over me head. I was sure that was it fer me. An' then..." Dramatic pause. "There was this huge creakin' an' crackin' noise, an' the ship just broke...right beneath me. Nearly crushed me in two, but I managed to swim up, an' the chains snapped. So I kept swimmin', an I got up on deck...but that was fast sinkin' too, an' the crew was all scramblin' for boats. But there right in front o' me was the captain, dead're anythin'. An' with me blade on him."

Rahier scratches the back of his head. "The ship jus'...snapped?" The hare looks quizzical. "..Does that happen often?" ;P It's marginally reassuring to himself that he doesn't have to do any work involving the sea. "But y'got y'blade back, f'a second time!" Grin. Then frown. "But th'ship was still sinkin'.."

Farren nods. "Yeh, right in two. I figure we must've hit somethin', 'cause ships don't normally do that. So I snatched up me blade, an' I put it right in me belt, an' then I ran toward the front o' the ship, 'cause that was furthest above water. Got about halfway, an' the whole deck disintegrated and smashed together. That's when me ankle got caught like that. I went under t'water, an' I realized just how heavy chains are, 'cause they would drag me back every time I swam for air. I finally managed to grab on to a piece o' wood, an' I just dug in an' held there till I passed out. An' then I woke up on the beach."

Rahier bobs his head in a small nod, mulling over the conclusion to her tale. "Sounds like y'were very lucky, that.." His head tilts to the side, looking again to the manacles. "Imagine one o' th'iron workers could get them offa y'easier than what all, but... F'now, y'gotta stay put, righ' here. 'Cause of, ah, y'ankle." He gives her something of a laden gaze. Not that it was wrong brining her here, he's.. not sure what to do beyond this. :P

Farren looks dubiously down at the thick bandage. "Eh, if y'say so. I could use some plain sleep in any case. An' I'm always lucky." The grin returns. "I just get equal portions good an' bad."

Rahier nods, again. "Oh. O'course. S'always pretty quiet in 'ere, y'can rest easy." The healer shrugs. "Anythin' else y'could want.. jus' need t'ask. The nurses, if there's not a healer around. Or y'could ask f'me." There's a flicker of recognition. Oh, yeah. "I'm Rahier, by th'way."

Farren rubs her head, which of course causes the chains to clink. "I could use some clean water, right enough. I'm so thirsty I could drink a river dry." She pauses. "T'fat toad called me lots o' names, but my real one is Farren."

Rahier blinks. "Ah. Right.." And again, off he goes, towards that stand-out stone basin. There's a bit of searching on his part to find a glass, but it's filled quickly enough with water. Back to her cot he walks. "Sorry 'bout that.. 'ere." Rahier offers the mug to her. "Well. Nice t'meetcha, in any case.. Farren."

Farren takes it and drinks it half down in two gulps. "Nice ter meet ye too. 'Specially since ye saved me tail. I'd hate t'think o' bein' stuck on' a beach under some bloody log."

Rahier chuckles, the small smile returning. Another shrug, as his paws return to his pockets. "Ahh... S'all in a day's work, y'know." Ever the modest one. "..S'pose I should leave y't'rest, then?"

Farren finishes the rest of the water, and lays back with the mug. "Ye go ahead. I'll see ye later."

Rahier grins. "Well, like I said, if'n y'need anythin', y'know.. what t'do. An'.. righto." One ear levels toward the door. "Be seein' y'later. Sleep well, eh?" And following the ear's 'prompting,' he sidesteps to the aisle between the cots, and makes for the door. After exiting, he makes sure to shut the door behind him.

Farren closes her eyes, the picture of restfulness.

For a few minutes, that is. Then Farren's eyes spring open again. She raises her head and scans the other occupants in the room.

Soleil slips in through the door glaring at it as she closes it again, muttering about menial tasks. She looks around the room, making sure there's nothing needing her immediate attention before heading towards a the cupboards of herbs in the back.

Farren sinks back on the cot immediately, trying not to look as though she were doing anything sneaky. She folds her manacled paws behind her head with a dull clink.

Hearing the clink, Soleil turns while opening one of the cupboard doors, thinking a patient may have dropped something on the floor. She scans the cots, looking for someone who might be looking to catch her eye, asking her to retrieve whatever it was. Her eyes catch on a female marten not much older than herself and she offers a timid smile.

Farren was obviously not expecting a smile. That's not how the 'fat toad' reacted whenever she did something he didn't expressly ask her to. So she looks a little caught off guard. But then she returns it with a grin.

Soleil's smile grows a little as it is returned and using a low but audible tone, so as not to bother the other patients, she queries, "Ya' drop somethin'?" Quite obviously she cannot see the chains behind the others head.

Farren blinks and shakes her head. "Nope." And without thinking, she moves her paws...because that's not a comfortable position, to be lying on metal.

Soleil's eyebrows raise slightly as she sees the shackled paws, but she bites her tongue holding back what might be considered impolite questions. Instead she plays the healer-in-training that she is, "Can I getcha anythin'? Water, blankets, er...soup or sumpin'?"

Farren brightens. Well hey. This one seems just as helpful as the last. "Yeh, I could do wit' some soup'n'water. An' It is kinda cold in here..."

Soleil grins, glad for -any- excuse not to do her set chore. She closes the cabinet with a soft click and opens another one filled with linens rather than herbs and selects a thick woolen blanket. "How long ya' been here?" she asks conversationally as she spreads the blanket out over the cot and its inhabitant.

Farren snuggles down into it appreciatively. She's still sopping wet and covered with sand from the beach. Not to mention her clothing is nothing short of filthy. "An' hour mebbe? Hard to tell with all this stone about."

Soleil nods as she reaches for the nearby glass, "Ah, s'no wonder I didn' recognize yah, then." She walks over to the sink and returns not only with the promised glass of water but also a steaming washrag for the patient to wash her face. "By th'way, name's Soleil," she comments as she hands both to the marten.

Farren takes the glass and the washrag with another dull metal clink. The glass is drunk from, but the rag is merely shrugged at, and tossed idly aside. "My name's Farren."

Soleil continues to bite back her curious questions and merely smiles and nods. Her brow furrows momentarily in concentration, "Er...right! Soup! I've got t'run down t'the kitchens fer some of that..." she explains as she straightens and starts towards the door, taking the washrag with her.

Farren's grin widens. "Great..." This glass is emptied pretty quickly as well, although not quite as fast as the last one. She's obviously very thirsty.

Soleil smiles back before heading out the door, closing it behind her.
Again relatively alone, Farren continues her scrutiny of the room. She contemplates checking out the contents of the drawers and cupboards. Just to see, of course.

---Sometime after Soleil has left---

Adams has arrived.

Temptation has finally overcome Farren's other sensibilities. She's balancing on her good paw with uncertain hops, while rummaging through the highest cupboard she can reach, trying to keep the broken chains hanging from the manacles around her wrists from making too much noise. So far she hasn't found anything remotely interesting.

The door leading into the infirmary is already opened, so this leaves the huge eagle which steps in a little less effort of entering the room. Her extremely large golden eyes stare at the marten for a moment, as if contemplating her appearence. Then, the great eagle asks, "What is it that you are doing?"

Farren yelps at the unexpected voice. She overbalances, grabs, manages to latch onto a drawer, and ends up pulling it out as she falls backward onto the floor. The drawer's contents are spilled all over. She shoves the drawer away and scoots backwards, her eyes wide. "Ah...ah...ah..."

Rahier enters moments later. It's also convenient for him that the infirmary door is open, as his arms are rather laden. One paw holds a bowl of the usual infirmary soup, the other a tree with some bread and other small bits, and some items of clothes draped across his arms. As he's focused on balancing the items on the tray, he doesn't notice that Farren's cot is empty. But a small look soon remedies that, and the hare pauses, and with a blink, turns to look to the rest of the infirm- "Colonel Adams!" Rahier nearly gasps at the extremely unexpected sight of the eagle in his infirmary. "Have you seen.." Crash.

Rahier room-pages, "Er. Tree = tray. Oy.".

Adams blinks those huge golden eyes of her. Yes, in normal situations, this marten would be a meal for the eagle. But... this isn't exactly a normal situation. "I was hoping not to cause that," she says, her huge golden eyes blinking. She turns her head slowly towards the hare, and asks, "Rahier, has this marten been properly authorized by the order of the Long Patrol?"

Farren is just going to scrunch up here in the corner and pretend she's invisible, thank you. Seeing as she can't get to her cot without getting closer to Adams, and there are two beasts blocking any escape attempt from the
room. Rahier's presence is like a godsend. "R-Rahier," she squeaks, "There's a bloody great eagle in yer infirm'ry!" Well, as if he can't see that for himself.

Rahier is rather taken aback by this, even if he knows the eagle.. even if just in passing. He chooses to answer Adams first, most of the bewilderment fading. "She is here on my authority, I brought her inside." The hare looks to the cot, and decides to set down all the various items he's holding onto it, before drawing himself back up in the most officious posture he can manage. "She is -my- patient." A small flick of one long ear, and slips through the small part of the aisle Adams isn't taking up, to move to Farren. "Yes, there is. She an ally of ours. Are you alright?" The new, even more disorderly status of the cupboard is ignored. ;p

Adams blinks her large golden eyes again, but nods her head, immediately accepting what she has been told. "Very well then, sir. Your authority of this infirmary outranks mine, so if she has been authorized by you, she is welcomed." The eagle looks to the marten now. "I am sorry to have scared you. My name is Colonel Adams, of the Army of Northern Mossflower, commanded of the Third Brigade, currently stationed at Salamandastron."

"Me heart's near to poundin' out me ears!" Farren looks at Rahier, then at Adams, then back to Rahier. This long list of titles means diddly to her, but the two assurances that Adams isn't here to make her snack food manages to calm her down a little. "I was thinkin' there were just hares'n'such here...how many more o' them are there?" She points at the eagle.

Rahier grins, somewhat hesitantly. "Uh, well, it is jus' us hares. Usually. They're part o' a seperate army, that was here t'help with th'corsairs." He offers a paw to Farren, but looks to the eagle. "Erm. Why are y'here, anyway?" Of course, by 'here,' he means the infirmary specifically. "Somethin' I can help y'with...?"

Adams nods her head, almost bowing it. "I am deeply sorry for the trouble and stress I have caused you, madame marten." Her head lifts up once more, looking around. "I promise that no harm shall come to you. I may also state that I am the only eagle in my brigade." She then looks to the hare. "It seems that during a training mission, one of the soldiers harmed themselves. I came here looking for bandages and cleaning solution, as we have run out of our medical supplies."

Farren sniggers. "She called me 'madame marten'." A paw reaches up and grasps Rahier's with a clink of metal. One would think having those things dangling from her wrists would be endlessly annoying, but judging from the scars, she's quite used to it. "Just hares? Ah...good." She hops upright, keeping all weight off her bad ankle.

"Oh!" Rahier brightens, somewhat. "Well, I got an infirmary fulla th'stuff. Jus' gotta get madame marten /back t'her cot/.." -Some- reprimand for the fact that she's left her bed. :P And he begins to lead her that way. "An' I'll scrounge up some stuff f'you, Colonel. But.. how long're you an' your brigade gonna stick around, now?"

Farren hops along with Rahier. She doesn't even look apologetic. In fact, she grins, despite the exertion of walking. Well, if no one questions her about why she was out of bed, she's not going to elaborate. Fortunately, she left her blade there...if she had fallen on /that/, things might have been a little uglier.

Adams shrugs her wings lightly, saying, "I am afraid that I can not say. We will stay until Colonel Zoe_Lang says we are no longer needed. Then we will return to Redwall. That was the orders of the General, sir." She then clips her beak lightly, in a show of thinking. "If you could, sir, please bring the supplies out to our camp when you are able. We had enough to dress our soldier's wounds, but I am afraid we will not have proper supplies if such an occurance should happen again. I wish not to frighten your patients more than necessary." She bows her head, to both the marten and hare. "Goodnight, my friends." She then walks out.

Rahier simply nods to the Colonel's request. A small shudder runs through Rahier as the eagle departs.. which Farren would probably notice, through the hold. Much relaxing. ;p "I brought some stuff.." Rahier pipes up in the ensuing quiet, stopping next to her cot. He waves his free paw at the assortment. "Ah, some food, some clothes.." There's the aforementioned soap and bread, and some simple clothes. Brown pants, similar to his, and a green tunic. Somewhat oddly sized, though, as it was probably tailored for a hare.

Farren scrambles onto the cot and stares at this assortment as though Rahier had just plopped a small fortune in her lap. The food draws her irresistibly, but she just has to examine the clothes first. Clothes! She spends a long time running her fingers up and down the fabric. Finally she snatches up the bread and takes a very large bite. She talks with her mouth full. "S'all o' this f'me?"

Rahier grins, paws sticking sheepishly into his pockets. The whole 'talking with a mouthful of food' thing doesn't bother him, at all... he's a hare. "Mhmm, 'tis yours." He gives a glance to the floor, then to her. "Erm, if'n y'don't find it t'your likin', I could get somethin' else."

Farren's eyes widen. Well, she doesn't seem about to stop eating just for a silly thing like conversation. She's eating fast enough to make even the most gluttonous of hares proud. "Nnn, ye kiddin'? S'best pair o' rags I've ever 'ad."

Rahier chuckles, looking back before taking a seat on the cot next to hers. He raises a paw. "'Ey. Nobeast's gonna snatch th'stuff from your paws, so don't get sick from inhalin' it like that, aye? There's plenty more." But the grin continues. "I'm.. glad y'like 'em." He attempts something at a more stern, somber expression, but ends up somewhere halfway between serious and amused. "But really, please don't try any more stunts like that. Don't wantcha gettin' hurt more badly, eh?"

Farren finishes off the bread, and reaches for the soup. She's forced to slow down here, as she can't drink and talk at the same time. "Plenty more? An' I can have some?" She seems floored by this idea. "Well I wouldn' have fallen over like that if the bloody eagle hadn' come in an' scared the life out o' me."

Rahier nods, dropping the paw back to his thigh. "S'okay. Jus' a few days 'till your ankle heals up. Stick t'the cot." But the grin soon returns, as he shrugs off the stern-healer image. ;p "This's a mountain o' hares. Of course there's more!" A gleeful snicker. "Meals're served five times a day, an' the dining hall's jus' across the way, so plenty of food finds it way in here." But it's mostly all the oft-lamented infirmary soup, but that isn't mentioned.

Not that Farren cares about the quality of the soup. The bowl is over half gone already. And any thought of being unhappy with the sentence of several days in bed is gone as he keeps talking. She stares at Rahier in disbelief. "Yer pullin' one over me eyes. Meals five times a day? Right out o'er there?"

Rahier snickers, and the grin becomes lopsided. "Nah, quite serious. Cross m'heart." Another small, tittering laugh. "And if you can actually eat all th'stuff th'cooks set out, five times a day, I'll eat my sleeve." The hare looks towards the door, shrugging. "Yeah, right over there. I don't really recommend wanderin', though, y'll more'n likely get lost like y'wouldn't believe.."

"I'll stay in bed." This is said without much feeling behind the words, but that could be because she's far too engrossed in this idea of eating five meals a day. "But durin' mealtimes...durin' mealtimes can I go an' eat? An' I can eat all I want?" Farren finishes off the soup and sets the bowl down.

Rahier shakes his head. Even he looks somewhat morose at denying a creature use of the fabulous dining chamber. "Not right now.. not on your ankle. In a few days, we'll go an' see, an' you can eat all th'pastries y'can bear. Candied foods, pasties, lil' cakes." The healer snaps his fingers quickly, waving his paw past the end of his snout. "But! Only if you sit here an' heal up. Otherwise.. nadda." Grin.

Farren's eyes widen yet again. "Right, right." Now she's taking the orders of staying in bed much more seriously. Food's on the line, after all. Or at least, she fully believes it is. And what wonderful food he's describing too. "I'll stay here an' I won't move one muscle off o' this cot for the next few days. An' then ye'll take me to all the food." She looks ravenous at the mere thought.

Rahier inclines his head in the most respectful nod he's managed yet. It's a small miracle when he can actually get beasts to voluntarily stay on their cots. Food threats aside. ;p The paw waves again with a flourish, to land over his heart, and the stylized 'LP' patch on his tunic pocket. "I will take y'there, on my honor, an' y'will eat an' drink whatever y'could desire." The buck draws one leg up onto the cot, folding it under the other leg. "Got plenty o' time. I mean, unless y'got somewhere y'need to be?" A quizzical head-tilt, as he considers her. "Do you.. ah, have any family that might be lookin' f'you, or th'like..?"

Farren hoots with what could be classified as pure joy. "I think I've figured it all out. I really did die, an' somehow I made it t'that paradise place I heard tell of now an' again." She flops back against the pillows. A snigger. "Family? Neh. Mother's dead, I ain't got any siblings, an' me /father/..." She snorts derisively. "I sure hope he's dead, but I bet he ain't at that."

Rahier frowns. "Oh. No.. relations, friends, of any kind? No other residences, quests, pressing business?" The healer shrugs. "Jus' wanna make sure I ain't inconveniencing you none, or summat." Apparently, he's trying to be as accommodating as he possibly can. "Not that.. well, once your ankle is healed up.. an' all that.."

Farren waves her paw from side to side. Clink, clink. "Neh, neh, none o' that at all. 'less ye counts me father, an' I don't want nothin' t'do with him." She pauses, looking strangely thoughtful for a moment. "Well...'less I get the chance t'kill 'im." A sheepish grin crosses her features. "Guess I didn' much bother about what I'd actually do when I got free..."

Rahier chuckles. "Well. Don't s'pose I'll be able t'help y'do that." The hare leans back somewhat, propping himself up with his paws. "Guess y'can do whatever y'want, within decency an' orders. S'how it goes with us 'freebeasts.' Heheh." Speaking of orders.. one ear tilts half-forwards, and his voice lowers somewhat. "Any others stopped t'talk with you when I was gone? Any..officers?" Because that's his big worry. Getting told off for giving his usual all-inclusive Sala package to a (gasp) marten.

Farren scratches her ear with a single claw. "Eh, well there was a young female hare, but I think she was a healer type like you, an' she seemed friendly, though she didn' stay long. What's an' officer sort look like?"

Rahier hrms. That description could fit tons of the other healers he knows. But, her question makes his face twist up in thought. "Uh.. well.. they're really... officer-like." Eh heh. "You'd probably know if one dropped by. They got some different uniforms, too. Different from the ones most of us wear, anyhow." He snickers, to himself. "If they get all stuffy an' start questionin' you, jus' tell 'em.. that I brought y'in."

Farren grins. "Arright, I'll do that." Heh, heh. She squints at his uniform, just to get the details down. After all, she really doesn't want to meet an officer-like officer and not properly recognize them. Rahier seems a little nervous. Something finally seems to occur to her. "S'hey. There's yer army o' hares, an' this other army with a bloody great eagle, an'...well ye lot have t'know how t'fight, don't ye? Real well, 'cause ye went and beat up all those corsairs."

Rahier is still wearing his usual carry-weapon, that smallish shortsword, clipped to the side of his belt. Which could be noted as odd, as -most- of the other hares don't carry obvious weapons outside of patrol. "Sure do... we've been th'most perilous fightin' force in all of Mossflower for ages, an' ages, an' ages." This is said with no small pride, and the healer's subconscious straightening of posture reflects this. "Why d'y'ask?"

Farren brightens quite noticeably, but apparently she doesn't seem willing to divulge her reasons for it just yet. Instead, she dismisses her own question. "I was just curious, s'is all. Sounds real great. An' I imagine this big ol' rock mountain place helps out. Those corsairs must've been real daft to mess with ye."

Rahier is also apparently pleased that she's interested. And talking about it only embellishes his own pride, so it's win-win. "'Tis a great place. Hares've lived here under th'Badger Lords for much longer than any texts can tell, an' certainly longer than anybeast can remember." Blurgh. "They were a daft lot, hanging around our shores," grouses the healer. "Right nasty bunch, that lot. One of 'em gave me a right nasty bonk on th'noggin, once." He peers upwards, at his own forehead. That wound wasn't too pleasant.

Blink. Oh. Now there's something she hasn't heard before. "Ye've got badger lords?" Farren seems both mildly disturbed, and even further fascinated. "What're they like? Is'it true an' all that they can crush rocks with their bare paws, run off whole armies an' call down lightenin' from the sky when'ere they want? Can they really make /anything/ wit' their forges? Are they really magic? I heard they could kill anythin' they wanted without blinkin'..." Well, she may know nothing about Salamandastron, but apparently she's heard droves about badger lords.

"Ah, well.. a Badger Lord," Rahier corrects. "Lord Bludstripe, an' Lady Stormstripe, t'be exact. They live a few levels up." The rest of her questions are considered thoughtfully, looking upwards towards the rocky ceiling. After a moment, he nods. "'Tis true, pretty much. But I haven't seen any lightnin', not yet." A grin. "-Have- seen 'im slay whole groups of vermin with one swing o' his great sword, truth be told."

Farren's mouth makes an astonished 'o' shape. She doesn't seem in the least bit bothered about the 'slaying whole groups of vermin' bit. "All that...an' they live right here with ye in the mountain?" Squeak. "S'amazin'. The nastiest, horriblest beast I ever knew, even /he/ said he'd never fight a badger lord. He said he'd turn tail an' run s'fast as his legs could carry him."

Rahier nods, quite serious, tone of voice reverent. "Aye, they live here. His Lordship an' family. They've got some kits, too. He may be fearsome in battle, but he's also.. quite the kind creature, t'alla us." Like one big, happy family. ;p Rahier chuckles. "Oh ho, I don't think any sane beast'd wanna do that. He's bigger'n at least six or more o' me, an' nigh unstoppable with that huge suit o' plate he wears, and the sword he wields. Seen it cleave beasts in half, I have, with my own eyes."

Farren sighs. It isn't a heavy, sad sort of noise. Rather the kind you make when you are completely, utterly content with something. "D'ye think...maybe...I could meet 'em sometime? I'd love t'see a real, livin' badger lord." She breaks into a momentary snigger. "Least 's long as he don' try an' chop off me head."

Rahier hrms, reaching up to rub at his chin. The last time (and, well.. the first time) he actually spoke to the Badger Lord was quite a bit ago. "He likes t'keep t'himself for long whiles. Some kinda... mystical, badger thing. Doesn't much stop for conversation, of late. You'll see him sometimes, gettin' food or swingin' his blade 'round the trainin' room."

Farren smiles. "Well that'd be good enough. If maybe I caught a glimpse o' him."

Rahier shrugs, both palms facing upwards. "Good a chance as any, I guess." He nods towards her manacles. "I'll see about gettin' those offa you, right soon. And maybe, one of th'nurses could getcha, ah.. cleaned up, when y'change clothes." Hee. Who decided to put the baths on level 3? ;P

Farren seems pleased with these ideas, but a more pressing matter presents itself in the form of a wide yawn. "...Maybe in t'mornin'? I'm feelin' pretty tired out...I'd like t'try nappin'..." And this time she actually means it.

Rahier nods. "Sure, sure. D'you need another blanket? Or more pillows?" There's the one set on her cot, but

still. They're not the most comfortable of blankets, but they're thick, wooly, and warm. The healer stands. "Got plenty of 'em.."

Actually, thanks to Soleil, there's two, but Farren is quick to agree to more. "Yeh, sure, that'd be nice." She could get really used to this sort of thing. "Maybe a few more o' each?" She grins, and tucks her blade away carefully in a double fold of blanket against the wall. It wouldn't do to get herself cut.

Rahier snickers, grinning back. The hare doesn't mind the indulgence at all.. he just lives to serve. ;P "Alright!" Turning to the cot he had been sitting on, he quickly pilfers its set of pillows and blanket, and offers the fluffy pillow out to the marten. "But, jus' lie back, aye? An', ah.." He mimes tossing the blanket over the cot. Heh. ;p

Farren takes the pillow, and adds this to the one she's already using. Ahhh. She does as asked, lying back with a contented sigh. She can't remember a time she's been quite this comfortable. Yes. A few days in this cot are looking brighter and brighter. Without seeming to give much care for the sand she's liberally smearing over cot, pillows, and blankets alike, she snuggles down into it. Nevermind the other blanket...her eyes have already closed of their own accord.

Rahier grins, and does as he'd intended, spreading the blanket out and letting it sink down over the marten. He takes the time to tuck it in around the edges, before stepping back to look at her. Aw. "G'night, Farren." And with that, he steps quietly to the doorway, and exits.