"Says the woman in the large game steel trap. I'm ammused, truely I am." Fearan laughed. "And if you can catch me with your gimp leg and then over power me despite the blood loss, then, just maybe, I'll let you kill me. Untill then, well have to see." He bent down over the trap to find the clasp the would unlock the trap. "Steady now" He said, pushing down on the levers. The jaw creaked open, releasing Deawen's leg. Holding out an amr incase she was thrown off balance, Fearan stood up. "Sit down now, and I'll bind up that leg so you don't die by the time we get you back to camp."

As soon as her foot was free of the accursed trap Deawen yanked her foot away. The tingling lightheadedness from blood loss was making her woozy. She was already sitting down as Arandur bade her to, she extended her leg carefully. The sight of her mangled leg repulsed her, it looked like some beast bit her leg once. The jagged marks oozed blood making Deawen a tad squeamish.
Something inside Deawen snapped leaving her resistance at a standstill. She blamed blood loss.
But it didn’t quell her sassy remarks. “I won't die... trust me you can't get rid of me that easily."

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

"I didn't think I was going to be that lucky." Fearan retorted, using his belt as a tourniquet. He wapped his cloak snuggly around her wounded leg, hoping that it would stay securely. The wound was bad: Deawen, being the type of woman that she was, had tried to pull her leg out. The result was a giant, jagged gash that exposed bone. He had to get her back to camp before she went into shock and died of blood loss. "We need to get moving, and quickly." Fearan announced as he checked the cloak one more time to make sure it was snug. "You can lean on me" He said, extending his arm.

Deawen bit her lip as Fearan wrapped the cloak snuggly around her wound. She wasn't in shock yet, but she was woozy. When she stood up she woobled and felt as unsteady as a new born colt. She silently cursed the layer of the trap. She leaned against Fearan, inwardly thankful for his support. Half way to the camp Deawen became dizzy and her legs threatened to buckle out from under her. " You'er not going to tell Arandur... about this... are you?" Deawen asked slowly the word halting and seemed to take time in thinking them.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Deawen suddenly grew heavy in his arms. The blood loss seemed to be getting to her. She could barely use here legs. Fearan cursed silently. Deawen was tough, but not many people with her injury made it very far. Fearan tightened his hold on her, trying to keep her upright.

" You'er not going to tell Arandur... about this... are you?" Deawen suddenly muttered slowly, as if it were a struggle to speak.

Fearan raised an eybrow at Deawen. "Its going to hard to explain your limp, and the fact that your leg is shredded to the bone. You could tell him that you were brutally attacked by an animated steel leg-trap, but I'm almost certain that he will see through that lie." Readjusting his grip on Deawn -he was now supporting most of her body wieght- he continued to walk. "I don't think he'll be too surprised though, and since you won't have much use of that leg for wuite awhile, He might even leave you alone for awhile." A dangerous thought suddenly fluttered through Fearan's mind. He could take her away from the camp into the wilderness. As a ranger, Fearan had the survival skills to keep them alive. The thought of bringing Deawen back to a camp where life long imprisonment, even death, awaited her made him uneasy. Perhaps if he could just take care of her long enough, maybe he could wipe away the phantom's presence. But as soon as that thought entered his mind he wiped it away. He was no healer. Deawen needed a healer immediatly. There was no way he could fix her with his remidial skills. Besides, what would keep her from killing him in his sleep and then slipping off if he did manage to kep her alive? She seemed to have no feelings for anything but her horse. Fearan knew that type of person was dangerous. No, he had to bring her back to camp.

Arandur saw Maenel to her tent, managing somehow to keep his walk steady. With a last word to her, he turned back towards his own tent, then stopped abruptly. Two figures could be just made out at the far end of the tent row, one heavily supporting the other. Groggily, he wondered what anyone else was doing out on a night like this, but then he caught a glimpse of a profile. Deawen. He started forward, feeling a brief flash of anger that she would try to escape again, but it died just as quickly. If he tried to confront her now he would probably fall flat on his face, if he even made it that far.

With a sigh he started for his tent again. He was asleep almost before he had fallen into his cot.

Deawen laughed weakly, " aye, he's too clever to be lied to...maybe.." she looked up and saw that they were back to the camp, she saw Arandur, and fear gripped her. But he left without a confortation, but Deawen knew it would come later. But she didn't care at the moment all she could think of was her pain and dizziness. Deawen stumbled, then slowly sank to her knees, her mind screamed to get up but her body refused to obey. " Fearan...thank you... but I doona..think I can make it." she said with confusion. Her tent was in sight yet she couldn't will herself to get up.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

"Deawen!" Fearan hissed. "Stop it. You're going to be fine!" But Deawen sagged completely in his grip. And when she did speek, her words were slow and muttled. "Deawen..." He was about to command her to stand up, but he could see that the blood loss was getting to her. She was going into shock. Immediatly Fearn hoisted her onto his shoulder. Though she was short she was also solid with muscle. "You're a tad haevy, aren't you?" Fearan grunted at he walked over to the medical tent as quickly as he could. "Doctor!" He shouted as soon as he walked through the entrance. Immediatly a short, thin man popped out from behind a curtain. He looked in surprise at Deawen. "She got her leg caught in one of those steel jaw traps." Fearan explained. "She was pulling around pretty badly and she's bleeding a lot." The healer untied the turniquet and peeled away the cloak to get a better look at the wound. He hiss sympathetically as he saw the extent.

"You really got yourself into trouble, didn't you?" He wondered aloud. Rummaging through some packs he pulled out a needle and thread. "She's lost a lot of blood." he whispered softly to Fearan "Even if we do get her sewn up, I don't know if she'll pull through."

"Then you don't know Deawen." Fearan replied, also in a hushed whisper. "She'll make it." I hope he added silently to himself. Was he really becoming attached to this...outlaw? Shaking off his unease, he went over to Deawen's cot. "Deawen, the healer is going to stitch you up. You're going to be fine." Gasping her hand he squeezed it, praying that she would live.

Deawen began shaking once she was laid down on the cot, everything was fuzzy and distorted, it was like looking through blown glass. Deawen felt Fearan grasp her hand and she felt comforted, she weakly squeezed back then relaxed."I don't know why it's ...just a scratch." she mumbled. Someone else came up to the cot, it was the Doctor, he pressed a small cup to her lips urging her to drink the contents. Deawen resisted not regonising the smell of the herbs. "Drink it." the Doctor said, Deawen opened her mouth slowly but the Doctor was faster than she expected he poured the whole bitter brew down her throat before she could react. Deawen coughed and tried to raise up but didn't find the strength to remain up. Deawen didn't move for a few minutes it was appearent she had fainted but was coming around. The doctor didn't seem worried that Deawen was becoming unresponsive. "It takes a moment to kick in, she won't feel too much pain."
Deawen suddenly opened her eyes again and blinked, her eyes focused more. " THis escaping is too much work...I think I am going to have to find another chicken..." Deawen giggled slightly, The doctor returned and shook his head, " well the tonic seems to be working, she'll be out of sorts for a few hours. In that time keep her attention away from her leg, the tonic isn't strong enough to keep her from overreacting if she sees her leg." THe doctor explained. He cleansed the needle with a flame, then threaded it.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Keep her from looking at her leg? Fearan didn't question the healer. He himself couldn't even look at the torn limb without his threatening to empty. However, the doctor was calm and collected and didn't seem the least bit phased by the injury. "So, Deawen..." Fearan said, trying to get her to focus on his face instead of the doctor stitching up her leg. "tell me about Bredol." That was the first thing he could think to ask. "He's a wonderful horse. There must be a wonderful story behind him."

Deawen flinched as she felt the needle, but she didn't saying anything about pain. She felt sleepy, but was brought out of her dozing with Fearan's question. " Bredol?Oh.. I got him near Bree, he...was alittle colt then he lost his mother and so I took care of him, he's...been with me ever since. I don't... have anyone ....else but him....I think.." Deawen's answer was halting and exausting to explain. "Fearan.." she mumbled and began dozing again. THe healer looked up instantly, " Keep her awake! She's lost too much blood we could lose her before we even began" he shreiked. Deawen came around breifly before mumbling again and shutting her eyes.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

(I'll post as soon as you guys are ready for morning to roll around.)

( I think You can go ahead and post morning, we can catch up quickly. I think)

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

((Yeah, I'll make sure that at the end of this post its morning))

Fearan shook Deawen. "Deawen, stay awake." he commanded, trying to keep his shaking voice steady. "I know you're tired, but you can sleep in a little bit."

The doctor looked skeptically at Deawen, silently doubting that she would live. However, he was a healer. He had not studied his entire life just to give up just because the odds were not in his favor.

The healer finished the last stitch around midnight. Fearan glanced at him questionably. "I have high hopes for her." The doctor said as he poured a liquid into a glass. "If she were to die, she probably would have done it while being sewn up." Fearan breathed a sigh of relief. "But don't get your hopes up." He said softly. "She lost a lot of blood. There's still a chance she might not make it." Fearan nodded. "Now, Deawen, drink this down and you can fall asleep." He poured the liquid into her mouth, making sure she swallowed all of it. Fearan sat down on a cot next to her. There were about five hours until dawn. He should stay with her, in case the worst happened. Leaning up against the wall, he shut his eyes with the intention of just resting for awhile. He should have known better.

Fearan woke as the sun's first light shone into the tent. Deawen! suddenly thought. Glancing over he saw her still lying on the cot. FOr a moment he assumed the worst, but then saw that her chest moved up and down. She was breathing. She was alive.

((Tada! Deawen, I feel like I power played your character a bit. if there's anything you want me to change, tell me.))

After falling asleep Deawen didn't budge until morning. She had tried to get up but was too weak to do it without help so she just relaxed and laid perfectly still. She heard Fearan wake, she slid one eye open. " I take it I am not dead..." she said not hiding the relief in her voice. she sighed and tried to raise up, she managed to roll over onto her elbows. she sighed in fruastration and then looked at her leg, she shut her eyes and sighed again. A sinlge tear rolled down her cheek, "It looks more painful than it really is.." Deawen commented, most of the wound was covered in bandages and wrapped with a splint to keep Deawen from ripping the stitches out.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

(Sorry about the delay, didn't get a chance to post earlier.)

Arandur woke slowly out of a deep sleep. Sunlight was slanting through the partly open tent flap, just touching the edge of his sleeping furs. He sat up and swung his feet to the cool earth of the floor, running a hand through his damp hair. The leather jerkin and tunic were rumpled from sleeping in them, and grunting, he peeled them off and donned a fresh tunic, belting his dagger on over it. He stood, stretching hugely, and brushing his hair back from his face, stepped from the tent into the morning outside.
The sentry on duty saluted him with a fist over his heart, but Arandur nodded for him to be at ease. It was later than his usual rising hour, but Arandur knew the men could use a rest after the strenuous march they had sustained the past few days, and therefor wasn't in a hurry to get under way.

The sweet aroma of cooking food wafted to him on a light breeze, and he suddenly realized he was famished. He started toward the cooking fires, past sleepy eyed soldiers emerging from tents and also intent on the smell of food. The thick stew the cooks served from their bubbling pots had chunks of venison and potato in it--the hunters had had a successful hunt, it seemed--and was accompanied by fresh flat bread and ale. Arandur paused momentarily as he collected his stew, and then on impulse, took two bowls, balancing the bread on top. With a bowl in each hand he wended his way between rows of tents to where the Healers had theirs erected and stopped before one. He called a question through the door, and at a muffled answer pushed the flap in with a toe and stepped inside. Maenel looked still sleepy but rested, and slightly surprised to see him.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Unconsciously, his usually sternness lessened slightly when he spoke. "I'm afraid I slept like a log," he added, with a rueful face.

"Better, after a nights sleep," she smiled.

"Here," he said, handing one of the bowls of stew to her, "I brought you some breakfast. You're probably as starved as I am after yesterday."

"I should get back to my duties now...and check on Deawen," he added that last under his breath as the memory of the night before came back.

He knew his departure was abrupt, but thought of Deawen made him grim. She was more trouble that she worth.

A haggard looking healer was leaving a nearby tent, and, curious, Arandur accosted the man.
"Surely you've no patients this early in the morning?" He asked, concerned.
"Not this morning sir, last night. That Deawen person tore up her leg badly, she lost alot of blood, and almost her life too I dare say."

"What happened to her?" Arandur asked sharply.

"I gather it was some kind of bear trap--"

Arandur let out a bark of laughter.
"So she tried to escape again and got caught in a trap..." He chuckled again at the irony of it. "I guess I'd better see her and get it over with. Who's in with her now, anyone?"

"Fearan," the man replied.

Arandur paused at that. Fearan? What was he doing? He hadn't quite shaken off his suspicion of the man...what was he doing with Deawen?

With a final nod to the man and an admonishment for him to get some rest, he started for the tent. The flap was open, letting in the morning sunlight, and Arandur stopped in the doorway. Deawen lay on a bed, her leg bulky with splint and bandages. Fearan sat on a stool near, and both looked up as he entered. He did not miss the note of tension in Fearan's weary expression, or the mixture of pain and...(apprehension? Fear?) on Deawen's.

With something akin to shock, Arandur wondered suddenly if they though he was such an unfeeling monster that he would punish her again. Without a word he stepped forward and knelt by the bed, examining the splint with gently probing fingers.
"It was well bandaged, it should heal quickly." Was all he said, before standing and striding from the tent.