She had finally curled up in the furs with the baby to get warm. She did not sleep, she was too tense to sleep or rest. Her mind just would not turn off, it was a whir of images, and none of them good. When she heard the drums, she sat straight up, and fear wrapped it's fist around her heart.
The Ubar was injured. It must be grave for them to be bringing him back from the battle. She put the baby into his cradle, covered him tightly and called for kasra to come sit with him. Restricted to her wagons or not, she had to know what was going on.
Stepping from the wagon, she was just in time to see him fall from Tone, a Turian arrow imbedded deep in his chest, and enough blood from other wounds to turn her stomach. Without even thinking she pushed past the other wounded warriors and their beasts to run to him, and slid to her knees beside, not knowing what to do.
In that moment, a memory hit her, that almost froze her on the spot. The memory of leaning over Loch, in this same way, trying to talk to him as he drew his last breath. She had to draw deep inside her to find the strength to push it away and to concentrate on the present.
As was his way, he thought that all he needed was to rub a little dirt into his wounds, and everything would be fine. It too her and Kaeli both to push the deadly arrow through his body, then Kaeli set to work stitching him up. It was fortunate for him that he passed our, or became semi-conscious, because it took many stitches to repair not only the wound in his chest, but he one to his arm. He was not happy when he came to and found that his arm was splinted, stitched and immobilized. Right now she did not care if he was happy or not, he was going to lie still, take sips of the wine she offered and give his body a chance to calm down and start the healing process. One, with no dirt involved.
More and more injured began to trickle in. Kaeli was busy with Jai, tending to some very grievous wounds that he had. It pained her to see so many injured, but that was the way of battle. Ba'atar passed out again, and she tried to help Kaeli as much as she could. But her help ended up basically being a wrestling match with Sef over a bota of paga. Damnable, stubborn man.
As Ba'atar came to again, she moved back to him with the bota of wine, poured some into a cup to allow him to drink. He wanted to sit, which was probably not the best thing for him to do, but she went ahead and positioned herself behind him, to be his support so that he could hear the reports of his men as they arrived. All of the anger, frustration and doubt are set aside as she turns her focus to making him comfortable.
When the drums began to sound the victory of their men, he even smiled. Reports began to come in along with more injured. The Tuchuk had prevailed, but that did not surprise her. The Sky loves them, remember? The victors returned, each having his own tale to tell of the raid, and each giving credit to the one that fought at his side. It made her proud to watch them. Evidently they had acquitted themselves well against the Turian foes.
Finally, he did feel the need to rest and she lifted to try and support him so that he could walk, in a way that did not look as if she was supporting him. It was going to be a long night.
The Ubar was injured. It must be grave for them to be bringing him back from the battle. She put the baby into his cradle, covered him tightly and called for kasra to come sit with him. Restricted to her wagons or not, she had to know what was going on.
Stepping from the wagon, she was just in time to see him fall from Tone, a Turian arrow imbedded deep in his chest, and enough blood from other wounds to turn her stomach. Without even thinking she pushed past the other wounded warriors and their beasts to run to him, and slid to her knees beside, not knowing what to do.
In that moment, a memory hit her, that almost froze her on the spot. The memory of leaning over Loch, in this same way, trying to talk to him as he drew his last breath. She had to draw deep inside her to find the strength to push it away and to concentrate on the present.
As was his way, he thought that all he needed was to rub a little dirt into his wounds, and everything would be fine. It too her and Kaeli both to push the deadly arrow through his body, then Kaeli set to work stitching him up. It was fortunate for him that he passed our, or became semi-conscious, because it took many stitches to repair not only the wound in his chest, but he one to his arm. He was not happy when he came to and found that his arm was splinted, stitched and immobilized. Right now she did not care if he was happy or not, he was going to lie still, take sips of the wine she offered and give his body a chance to calm down and start the healing process. One, with no dirt involved.
More and more injured began to trickle in. Kaeli was busy with Jai, tending to some very grievous wounds that he had. It pained her to see so many injured, but that was the way of battle. Ba'atar passed out again, and she tried to help Kaeli as much as she could. But her help ended up basically being a wrestling match with Sef over a bota of paga. Damnable, stubborn man.
As Ba'atar came to again, she moved back to him with the bota of wine, poured some into a cup to allow him to drink. He wanted to sit, which was probably not the best thing for him to do, but she went ahead and positioned herself behind him, to be his support so that he could hear the reports of his men as they arrived. All of the anger, frustration and doubt are set aside as she turns her focus to making him comfortable.
When the drums began to sound the victory of their men, he even smiled. Reports began to come in along with more injured. The Tuchuk had prevailed, but that did not surprise her. The Sky loves them, remember? The victors returned, each having his own tale to tell of the raid, and each giving credit to the one that fought at his side. It made her proud to watch them. Evidently they had acquitted themselves well against the Turian foes.
Finally, he did feel the need to rest and she lifted to try and support him so that he could walk, in a way that did not look as if she was supporting him. It was going to be a long night.
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