"Mending What Was Broken" Log Date: 11/9/98, 12/8/98 Log Cast: Silversong, Rillwhisper, Trollkiller, Woodhawk Log Intro: Rillwhisper has finally returned from her lengthy absence to the Willowholt -- but she's come back with a bad leg, thanks to the injury she sustained that never healed properly and received extra stress thanks to her needing to escape the Preserver valley while wounded. Now that the chieftess has come home again her tribe has begun to call her Wolfbringer... and with the word that she is pregnant from a Recognition on top of being wounded, her lifemates Trollkiller and Woodhawk have been extra solicitous of her health. Fortunately, the Willowholt is not without its healers, and therefore not without its resources for setting the Wolfbringer's maimed leg to rights.... ---------- Chieftess's Den(#124RAJL) This oft-crowded den seems spacious enough to perhaps hold five or six elves easily. Many pillows and furs of shades of brown, white, grey, gold, and black are scattered about its floor, some on the large pile of sleepfurs beneath a small window-hole looking out towards Sun-Goes-Down. Here and there along the walls are shaped small candle-nooks, in the shapes of leafy nests; the candles they hold are unlit at the moment, and the occasional beam of sunshine flickers in through the willow fronds outside. Along one wall, a shelf-like ledge is set into the living wood of the tree. You see 1 elves asleep here, and 3 awake. Two crawl-holes are visible here: one leading back out into the heart of the great tree, and one leading off sideways to the guest den frequently used by Rillwhisper, Woodhawk, and Trollkiller. Contents: Woodhawk Trollkiller(#3442PVc$g) Silversong Comfortable fur Obvious exits: Guest Den Out Silversong lightly pushes aside the door-hide, after a light querying send. ** Chieftess? ** Rillwhisper is within -- not surprisingly. Curled up in a pile of elfin bodies, between her elder lifemate and her younger, the chieftess opens one green eye, and focuses its regard upon the silver-haired healer peeking into the den. ** Silversong, ** she acknowledges softly. Silversong smiles as she slips fully into the den, glancing to the sleeping Woodhawk for a moment, before sitting down nearby. ** I wanted to see how all of you were, ** she sends, careful to not wake her Recognized. Trollkiller is lying across Rillwhisper and Woodhawk, more on Rillwhisper, sharing her bodh with Woodhawk, his legs intertwined with one of each of his lifemates. He's out cold, oblivious to the world as far as anyone looking could tell. ** Sleeping, mostly, ** comes the quietly wry response of the chieftess. Her other eye comes open, her gaze crossing over the top of Woodhawk's tousled dark head to meet that of the healer. Silversong nods, a slight smile given in Trollkiller's direction, a thought of how he looks when he's sleeping like that obvious in her expression. ** Acorn mentioned that... there had been a struggle. Are you in health, after that? ** Although Rillwhisper doesn't shift a muscle, it's obvious that Silversong's query touches something within her; what's visible of her face flickers for a moment in palpable reaction. After a moment or two more, she sends, ** The fight with the humans was half a turn of the seasons ago. I hurt my leg, but I got home well enough, with the help of the wolves. ** Silversong eases forward along the furs, nearer to Rillwhisper. ** May I look closer? ** she asks, her expression sympathetic, having used the best words she could find that didn't directly relate to what Acorn told her of the events. Trollkiller mmmr? as the furs move, and he picks up a new scent in his sleep. ** A moment, ** Rill advises. She begins to move, shifting Woodhawk off her side as gently as possible; the firestarter makes a drowsy noise in the back of his throat. Then the chieftess tries to do the same with Trollkiller, to give her enough room to ease out from between both her lifemates, so that she might sit up beside the healer. Trollkiller blinkblinks and definitely wakes up at that, sending, ** ** before he squints and finishes waking up. Rillwhisper turns and smiles lopsidedly to Trollkiller, reaching over to stroke his brow. ** , ** she sends to him, without words. ** Not leaving the den, lifemate. Silversong is here. ** Half a year. Silversong makes a slight frown as she thinks about that. The injury would have long since healed, but did it heal correctly, on its own... As Trollkiller wakes, she looks towards him, with a nod in his direction. ** It's alright, Trollkiller. It's just me. ** Trollkiller wraps immediately again around Rillwhisper's waist, but just with his arms. ** Mmm. 'K. ** He doesn't unwrap, though, even at the reassurance; he just moves so he's out of the way - but still on the furs. ** Hi, Silversong... ** Woodhawk, at all the motion, awakes with a bit of a start, and his arm flails about for Rillwhisper for a moment before he scents she's still here, and that Silversong, too, has arrived. After an anxious rush, he smiles a bit, and rolls over beside Trollkiller. Rillwhisper, in the meantime, rubs Trollkiller's headfur gently, while turning her green regard back to the visitor. Now sitting up, clad in nothing but her tumbled red-gold hair, she grins a bit. ** Here I am, then, my friend; satisfy your curiosity. ** Her expression's a calm one, unfazed. Silversong smiles towards Woodhawk, touching thoughts in a fond, yet brief sending. Although it's been many days since the injury, she is not one to say that it could wait any longer. Her attention is turned towards the one leg, a delicate frown marring her features as she notices the slight misshapen area, perhaps really noticable only to one of her familiarity with elfin forms. Suspicions confirmed. Hands are touched to that point, a shimmering glow appearing where she touches, looking deeper within in her own way. Trollkiller nodnods at a send by Woodhawk. As the healer's hands send their glow along her leg, Rillwhisper watches the beginning light of magic with an unwaverving, unfrightened attention. She suspects she already knows what Silversong will find, and indeed, the healer might well sense beneath the leanly muscled flesh of the chieftess's right leg thicknesses and irregularities, places where the bone should be smooth and are not, places where muscle and nerve were hurt and healed, but somehow just... wrong. The chieftess's only visible reaction is a soft intake of breath as the magic seeps into her limb. Trollkiller oooooooos. Pretty magic for pretty returned Rillwhisper. He pets Rill's arm with his fingertips, while still clinging determinedly with his other arm. He'd noticed too, of course, having learned every inch of Rillwhisper's body over the last many eights of years, and having forgotten none of it in the painful few of separation. A quiet sigh escapes the healer's lips, eyes opening again and allowing her to look up at Rillwhisper's own. Her magics remain, dulling any ache the badly-healed injury may retain. ** Chieftess... Rillwhisper, the break did heal, but it didn't heal correctly. ** Rillwhisper's mouth curls slightly upward. ** I'd noticed, ** she replies dryly. ** Not surprised. Had to walk on it out of the bug valley, and ride on it after that to get home. ** Woodhawk looks over, his hand across Rillwhisper's back, concerned. Silversong nods, with that confirmation that Rill already knew about it. ** Unlike how Mother could work it, my magic isn't strong enough to coax bone and flesh to flow and reshape. To allow this to heal straight again, the bad setting must be broken again, and then set once more in the proper way. ** She's not too keen on that idea, but knows her own limitations. Out of respect to Silversong, the chieftess does not utter her opinion of Silversong's mother, either in word or sending, for all that a brief shadow flicks across her mind at the mention of Winnowill. That shadow doesn't show itself in Rillwhisper's expression, though. Steady and calm, she simply asks, ** Would you advise we break it, then? ** Trollkiller blinkblinks. Break it on purpose? ** It can be done either way. As it is, it can remain, but it may be painful from time to time, especially during the winters. Or, we can set it anew, but that may be even more painful, especially at the onset, then it would slowly fade, ** Silverson replies. Woodhawk says, without needing to, "We would, of course, hunt for you." Rillwhisper's gaze warms, flicking to drink in the now-attentive faces of her lifemates, each in their turn. She reaches to touch each of them, before looking back to the healer and remarking, ** What worries me is, how we'd get it broken again. I'm not exactly eager to throw myself down a mountainside again. ** Silversong nods, understanding that concern well. ** I can weaken the bad setting, even though I can't coax it to come apart on my own. Breakng it would be up to Trollkiller or Woodhawk, with a blow to that point. It will hurt. ** Trollkiller ! hurt Rillwhisper?! Silversong notes Trollkiller's concern, and amends, ** Or another. ** Trollkiller shudders. ** Um. ** Trollkiller sends, ** I'd do it. Because it's for the best. But I wouldn't like it. ** But he wouldn't trust anybody else to do it, either. Turning her head again to consider each of her beloveds, studying their reactions, Rillwhisper meets their gazes with her own. Hers softens a bit at Trollkiller's outburst, though it grows no less steady. ** I can walk on it now, ** she observes, ** but running is a problem. And aye, it's... hurt, during this past Whitecold. It didn't like the cold very much. ** Woodhawk rests his head against Rillwhisper's shoulder. Silversong nods as she watches the three talk of it, in words and otherwise, but remains quiet. A nuzzle to Woodhawk's dark unkempt mop... a hand stroking Trollkiller's shoulder... and then Rillwhisper muses, ** I've another half turn of the seasons before I start showing the cub. She'll make me slow and sluggish as it is. Best get it deal with, then. ** Her gaze returns to Silversong. ** Any reason we can't do it right here? ** Silversong nods, smiling at the mention of the cub. ** If it's done, slow and steady is the way you will need to be for a while, while it finishes what I can start on the way. No, no reason it can't be done here or now. ** Trollkiller bites his lip a little, looks at Rillwhisper, or Wolfbringer, and Silversong, and sends, ** So. What do I need to do? ** Woodhawk's brow knits as he tries to remember something. "Willowbark, was that it? Should you have that first, beloved?" Woodhawk looks directly at Silversong. ** Will it hurt her, what you have to do? Is there anything we can do for her to ease it? ** The chieftess sits calm, unruffled, her gaze still steady on the healer. There's a slight tightness to Rill's mouth, suggesting she's less than eager about this, but she nevertheless waits patiently for the healer's instructions. A hand is set upon the chieftess' leg, a glimmer of silvery light spreading outwards from where fingers touch, the healer taking the first steps. ** It will hurt, aye, but the worst is only at the beginning. If you could strip a few pieces of bark from the willow, and get some water and a bowl as well, we can keep the pain down as little much we can. ** Woodhawk remembers this -- willowbark tea. Warming it's a good use for a firestarter's magic. He nuzzles Rillwhisper's cheek, sends openly ** Yes, I can do this. I'll be back..... ** Woodhawk crawls through the door-hide out into the heart of the tree. Woodhawk has left. Trollkiller looks around nervously, waiting for Woodhawk to get back. He sits himself down, but his hands flitter around pointlessly, and he looks around a lot. Woodhawk crawls in from the tree's center chamber. Woodhawk has arrived. Rillwhisper pulls in a breath and very determinedly lets it out again, ordering her shoulders and back to relax, trying to simply open her mind to what is about to come and to keep herself from going too tense of frame. She glances at Woodhawk as her elder mate comes back and smiles briefly at him, but most of her attention is on the glow with which Silversong has begun to bathe her leg. Woodhawk returns, carrying a hollow gourd full of steaming, bitterly fragrant tea. Silversong smiles fondly after the firestarter, before looking to Trollkiller. ** While he's getting that, we'll also need several strips of leather, and two pieces of wood; as straight as you can find, and about this long, ** she sends, indicating two points along the chieftess' leg with her free hand. Trollkiller sniffs, and snorks. Stinky. Woodhawk wrinkles his nose back at Trollkiller. ** Well, but it's *good* for her.... ** Trollkiller what?s and blinks at Silversong. ** Um. Right. ** He looks back at Rillwhisper, and lets go, slowly, squeezing before he does. ** I'll be right back. I can get that pretty quickly. ** And he half-smiles at Woodhawk. Trollkiller heads out to the clearing to get the wood and leather. Trollkiller has left. Trollkiller, too, gets a smile from the chieftess as he goes, though it's mostly a smile of the eyes. Rill, her nose still rather accustomed to the scent of the pungent things her brother used to brew even if Sweetleaf has been passed on and gone for many turns of the seasons now, is less fazed by the tea, but she does ask levelly, ** Shall I drink it now? ** Woodhawk frets. ** I hope he gets strong wood, willow's not very stiff.... ** Silversong chuckles very softly at the expression on Trollkiller's face with the bitter scent of the steeping tea slowly filling the den. ** Thank you, 'hawk, ** she sends to him, and nods to Rillwhisper. ** Yes, slowly, but all of it. ** From the outside, you hear Trollkiller hop/walking by, and you hear some wood being dropped. Woodhawk peers out. ** Need some help with that wood? ** From the outside, you hear half of a conversation with Fhen. Trollkiller has apparently got him up to do something with the wood. Trollkiller has arrived. Trollkiller returns, bearing a collection of leather straps - mostly made from scrap - and several trips of hard, shaped, rounded oak. ** I got Fhen up. Sorry it took so long. He made these. ** Sometimes, it's handy having several shapers in a tribe; Rillwhisper has never been one to scorn magic, and her calm demeanor takes on a glimmer of pleasure that Trollkiller was able to find Fhen so quickly. She reaches for Woodhawk's proferred tea, in the meantime. Silversong smiles up at Trollkiller as he returns, nodding to him. ** Those will do fine, ** she sends to him, another sending of gratitude sent off towards Fhen. Perhaps someday she'll be able to coax the trees into bending as she wishes, but not today, or any time soon. But, she's content, in her speciality, fingers slowly passing over the mishealed leg as she waits for the tea to be finished off. A gourd's worth of tea is easily downed. Rillwhisper drinks it without stopping for breath, and if she finds the taste unpleasing, she shows no sign of it. She takes in another breath and slowly releases it, too, as if to inhale the lingering scent in the air to add power to the tea itself. Trollkiller reaches around again and rubs Rillwhisper's back, with another hand brushing by Woodhawk's chest, to let him know he's not forgotten. Woodhawk moves to sit behind Rillwhisper with his arms wrapped around her, and kisses Trollkiller's fingers in passing. ** About as good as we're going to get, ** Silversong sends, her hands drifting to either side of the bad setting, her eyes lifted towards the chieftess. ** Are you ready, Rill? ** ** , ** is the chieftess's wordless, sent reply. She's still sitting up straight, but she holds out a hand to either side of her, seeking her lifemates though she doesn't turn her head to look at either of them. Trollkiller sends openly ** What do I need to do? ** Silversong nods, then glances towards Trollkiller. ** I've weakened the setting enough, but I can't cause it to seperate. You'll need to strike, right here, ** she sends, touching a point on Rillwhisper's leg. Trollkiller pulls himself around Rillwhisper, and touches the spot, carefully. ** Here? And how should I strike it? Straight down? ** He swallows. Woodhawk sits behind Rillwhisper, his arms loosely holding her around the waist. He nuzzles his face into the golden hair cascading from her chief's lock, and takes the nape of her neck gently between his teeth, as if she were a wolf-cub he was carrying. The firestarter's attention to the back of her neck sends a subliminal shudder through Rill's frame. She'd already tried to relax, but the line of her shoulders slumps just a bit more nevertheless. The chieftess still says nothing, waiting as patiently as she can manage, as if she were on the hunt and had all night to wait for a deer to emerge from a thicket. Silversong nods, once, to Trollkiller. ** There, and straight down. ** Woodhawk sends ** steadiness, patience, waiting-without-moving ... ** and holds his lifemate close and still. Trollkiller places his hands on the spot, steadies himself... lifts his left shoulder, and palms straight down, sharp, hard, fast, with the heel of his hand. Woodhawk tightens his arms around Rillwhisper, and sinks his teeth more firmly into her nape, in time with Trollkiller's movement. Rillwhisper does not scream; she doesn't even cry out. But she does pull in a sharp, swift breath, her delicate features tightening up into a grimace of pain, a few beads of sweat springing up along her brow. ** ..... ** Trollkiller breathes out, shuddering, as he looks up at Silversong, wanting confirmation that it's done properly. With the break made, the healer's work is put before her, a brief sending of approval given to Trollkiller. Silvery shimmers flickering and surrounding the newly broken leg as Silversong moves to quickly re-set the break so that it will heal straight. With an effort, Rillwhisper goes limp, slumping back against Woodhawk's supportive frame. Her chest rises and falls noticeably as she focuses on the simple act of breathing, and after a moment she sends gruffly, ** Ouch. ** Trollkiller falls back, sitting again, as he gets the confirmation from Silversong. He crawls over beside Rill's shoulder, and even though it's what she told him to do, he still shows throat. That was uncomfortable on too many levels. Magic coaxes pain to fade, but convincing it to leave completely is beyond Silversong's abilities, not while the healer is simultaniously tugging at bone, urging it to join. All else, other than her immediate work, is lost to her perception. Rillwhisper opens her eyes, reaching a hand for Trollkiller and stroking his headfur. ** , ** is her sending, simple and straightforward, though a trifle watery. Trollkiller holds Rillwhisper's arm, petting it. She's the one with the broken leg, not him. But he's quietly glad of the reassurances. Woodhawk sends ** well done, love ** to Trollkiller, and unwavering support to Rill. After the passage of several minutes, the silvery glow surrounding Silversong's hands and Rillwhisper's leg slowly fades, the healer sitting wearily back. Trollkiller nuzzles back at Woodhawk, too. ** ** Woodhawk sends ** warmth, immense gratitude.... ** to his Recognized, and watches intently as Silversong does things with leather scraps and wood. Trollkiller nuzzles Wolfbringer's shoulder, and brushes along her arm with his fingertips. Rillwhisper keeps herself prone, content to lie as still as possible while trying to accustom herself to the newly awakened throb in her leg. Doing things with the aforementioned leather scraps and wood seems well beyond the healer at the moment, weary from the effort of causing resilient bone to move and join in ways it did not wish to. ** 'hawk, Trollkiller, the bone's joined, but it needs to be braced. Would you tie the two pieces of wood to either side of Rill's leg? It'll help support and keep it straight while it heals on its own, now... ** Silversong sends, eyes closed behind a hand held to her brow. Trollkiller pads around and, following Silversong's instructions, carefully braces and ties Rillwhisper's leg. He remembers how to do this from a very, very long time ago, but that doesn't stop him from checking at just about every tie-point anyway. Woodhawk gently releases his lifemate from his grasp, and moves to help Trollkiller with the bracing, following Silversong's directions intently. [We wound up idling here due to assorted work-related reasons, and the scene was never finished. End log.]