The River Moss - Springs
Many smaller streams of running water trickle together in the middle of Mossflower Woods to form a deep pool of clear, cool water. The shallow slope of the land is what transforms this pool into the source of a large, life giving river.
Exits: [D]own [R]iver

Even in the shade of the Mossflower trees, the summer heat begins filtering in. From the angled spots on the forest floor created by holes in the arboreal cover, anybeast can tell that it's a bright morning. Especially for one shrew. Tying the logboat up against the shore and jumping out, Belliger leans in again to grab his canteen. He opens the lid, slowly. Not out of carefulness, he's just begun to enjoy these little upstream paddles to the source. And it's good water, too. He dips the canteen in, down on all fours and leaning over the source of the river. The shrew quickly dips his head in and pulls it back out, letting the cool water run over his face and head. He sits, waiting for the canteen to fill.

A rather graceless rustling comes from the underbrush of the surrounding trees, giving away the approach of some beast or other. Teeth clenched and looking less than healthy, Loma limps her way into the area, pushing aside bushes and brambles. Burrs cling to her all over, and she has a number of injuries, including a particularly bad arrow wound in her leg: the source of the limp. Loma stops to lean against a tree, and as she does so she makes out the form of Belliger. The shrewess sighs with relief and then calls out in a cracked, hoarse voice, "Oi there!"

Belliger turns his head at the voice, and pulls his canteen out of the water as he sees the familiar face. He starts to grin, but sees the shape Loma is in. "What 'n 'ellsteeth...? Loma, y'a'right?" He gets up and walks at a brisk pace towards the shrew, tilting his head and glancing over her injuries with clenched eyebrows.

Loma is not in good shape. She has a number of cuts and scrapes, as well as two slashwounds that seem to have been hastily bound in leaf bandages. Her leg is the worst however. Puss can be seen rising from the arrow wound, and that is hardly a good sign. The shrewess manages a sort of grim smile/grimace, "Good wit' names, are ya? Be a pal an' give a aging lady a paw. Not sure I can walk much further."

Belliger crouches slightly to allow Loma's arm to grip around his shoulders, and he wraps his arm under the shrewess's underarm, aiding her to the logboat. He kicks his canteen into the boat on his way back, and cautiously lifts Loma to lay out flat in the logboat, while he himself jumps in and grabs his paddle. "Better t'do this when we ain't out'n th'open..." He unties the boat, and, gripping the paddle tightly, muscles straining, sends the craft careening downstream.

Loma settles in the boat fairly naturally. She looks like she's in a lot of pain, but she also looks like she's very determined to not let it get the best of her. She grits her teeth for a while, before asking, "I 'ope that you're a decent set of lodgings. I've had it as far as sleeping in the rough goes..."

Belliger smiles, although his back is turned on the shrewess, and she can't really see it. "T'tell ye th'truth, I've been waitin' for ye to fin' us. Got a tent an' a bed set up for ye back at th'camp..." He strains further, skillfully steering the boat downstream..."
GUOSIM Camp - Central Fire Pit
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Upon arriving at this clearing, it's significant to note the vastness of the camp. Foliage has been stripped away to create a settlement of tents and the like. Dominating the center is a massive pit, most likely used as a bonfire in the evening hours, filled with wood and circumferenced by rocks. Around those are logs that have been split in half and are now used as sitting areas for the occupants of this colonization in Mossflower. Two other clearings branch out from this one - multiple tents able to be seen off in the distance in one, and an area not quite distinguishable in the other. Ahead, its flap typically yawning open for entrance, is a large tent. Above, on a slab of wood above the entrance, is scrawled in block-like writing: G.U.O.S.I.M. Meeting Tent

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Exits: To the Camping Grounds - [Camp], To the Training Area - [Train], Enter Meeting Tent - [Meet], Toward Entry Path - [Leave]

Belliger carries Loma to the firepit, which is currently down to a smaller blaze, not rekindled yet from the regular nightly bonfire... "I'll be righ' back. Gotta get somethin' from m'tent."

Loma nods and settles in, glad to be somewhere homeish at last.

Belliger rushes back, carrying a small wooden box, seemingly aged and weathered. As he opens it up, he rummages through a collection of herbs and crushed leaves, before pulling out two pouches, carefully selected. He slides to Loma's side, eyeing the arrow wound, first. He carefully brings his paw to it... "One, two... Three." On three, he yanks it out quickly, and tosses it over his shoulder. He takes the contents of one pouch, which seems to be some crushed herb, and sprinkles some in his paw, which in turn flips over to fall on the open wound. He chooses this time to say, "This's going to sting a little a' first."

Loma clenches her jaw very tightly and grunts, "Already does, mate. Can't much more..."

Belliger shrugs. "Aye, then tha's all f'th'better, I guess." He tightens up the first pouch and places it back in the box before taking a dried leaf of some sort out of the second. Spitting in the dirt a few times, he mixes it around and makes a paste. Scooping it up, he runs the paste over the wound, then sticks the dried leaf over it. "Now, tha' should take care o' tha' in 'bout a day." He eyes the other wounds... "I really don' 'ave much o' th'materials t' take care o' that much, the rest'll 'eal on their own. 'ad t'do somethin' 'bout th'leg, though."

Loma nods grimly, "Aye. I c'n believe it. Felt like it was falling off fer the past three days, and no mistake." the shrewess remains very still, not wanting to cause herself more pain that is necessary, "Glad I found you. Damned good stroke of luck, in fact."

Belliger inhales deeply, shoving the second pouch into the box before closing it, then exhales, in a relieved sigh. "Now tha' we got tha' done with, wot'n 'ell 'appen'd t'ye?"

Loma scowls, and her paw clenches, "That damned fox was what happened." she growls, "He came with soliders and surrounded our main camp. He'd been hunting us for more than a week, and he finally got us all pinned down." the shrewess sighs and uncurls her fist, "That was about it for most of us."

Belliger raises an eyebrow... "An' yer otter frien'...?"

"Dead." Loma says, hollowly, "Throat was crushed by the big bag beast himself..." she looks up at the sky overhead, "I've done wit' cryin'. Done enough of it. I want to be doin'. That's what he'd want. What all of them would want..."

Belliger nods... "M'sorry. 'f i's any condolence... We'd be glad t'ave ye 'ere, if y'wanna stay, that is." This might be the first recruit he's ever done that he's going to understand if the shrew says no. It might also be the first recruit he's ever done where he's actually thought about the cause, more than just recruiting all the shrews he can find... "Ye'll at leas' 'ave company."

Loma chuckles dryly, returning from her evil memories, "I'll be stayin', mate. No worries. Don't have anything else to do, that's fer sure." the shrewess sits up a little straighter, wincing as she does so, and grabs at the sleeve of her tunic, "I have a score to settle, but it can wait. And I'm not about to ferget." she pulls up the sleeve to reveal a blistered brand mark in the shape of the letter 'M'.

Belliger raises an eyebrow again at the brand. "Aye, tha's a hard thin' t'forget... M'glad t' 'ave ye, Loma. Ye'll get t'meet th'crew soon 'nough... An' tomorrow, we go t'the abbey Redwall t'see th'Log-a-Log."

Loma looks interested, "Redwall, eh? I heard a good bit about that place. I'll be glad to see it."

Belliger shrugs. "I's okay. A bit o'errated, in m'own opinion. Good kitchen, though." The shrew chuckles, hoping to bring some lightness to the situation.

He succeeds. Loma grins, "Aye, that's sommit I could do with, and no mistake. Spring's better than winter, but it's still slim pickings on the road. I could do with some decent food."

Belliger looks up, suddenly. "Y'ungry? Got fish. Always got fish 'roun' 'ere." He's hungry, regardless of what -she- says, so he gets up and goes over to the stone slab, grabbing some freshwater fish, and waiting for Loma's response to see if he should get another one.

Loma nods, "Aye. Fish is good. I've been livin' off berries and bitter roots fer far too long."

Belliger grabs another fish and walks back over to Loma, plopping down and handing her the fish. "-Always- have fish 'roun' 'ere," he repeats. "River Moss's damn near o'erpopulated with 'em. I ain' complainin', though. At leas' there's variety."

END