“I really wish you’d just listen to me.” Shul half-huffs, half-growls the words as she walks past me now, making her way back to the treatment bed with another trayful of clean cloths. I’ve seen the big cabinets lining the walls, I get they got a shitload o’ fancy medical stuff to draw from, but I’d have thought they must be running outta these little cloth swabs by now, the way they keep crumbling ‘em up and starting a fresh one over and over. Honestly, it seems pretty wasteful if you ask me. “You’re going to heal much quicker if you just go back to your room and sleep.”

“And yet …” I shoot back with all the venom I can muster, which ain’t much to be honest. Maybe she’s got a point, I am fucking tired, I’m barely managing to sit up at all in this chair, and it fucking hurts to do it, even after all the work they did repairing the damage. Yeah, she is right, I’m still a mess, I should use these fancy looking little crutches they brought me to hobble my way back down the hall to my waiting bed. It’s damn tempting. ‘Cept I know exactly why I don’t.

Stopping a few steps away, Shul gets real stiff pretty fast, and when she turns back the look on her face is exactly what I would’ve expected. Only hobgoblins can look that stern, it’s an impressive trait. She may only be half-hob, but she definitely got that part o’ her heritage down. “Thel, please …” She grits her impressively sharp teeth for a beat, then lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re not doing us any good being here right now either.”

“You mean I’m in the way?”

That makes her frowns, and she looks down, likely choosing her words. “No, not … not exactly. It’s just … we’re all stressed. With the others off doing … whatever it is they’re doing, I’m anxious, and I’m not alone here. I understand how you’re feeling, I really do, but all you’re doing is making me more anxious, and it’s going to make the others more anxious too. And then where will we be?”

Yeah, that kinda has me stumped a little. It never occurred to me that clerics could get affected in their work by other folk’s vibes, I always thought they could just pray their way through that kinda thing. If that is what she means.

Licking my lips, I hunch forward a bit, which does take a little of the pressure off that hard, achy spot just above my stomach, but I know I can’t maintain it long cuz it’ll just get my back hurting again before long. Truth be told there’s no real way for me to sit right now don’t hurt some. “I’m sorry, I really am. I’d love to just go and lie down. But I do that an’ I’m just gonna be staring at the ceiling for hours, or ‘least until they come back. If they come back.” I grimace, as much from the idea as my own discomfort. “Shit … I’m just … suffering through it, cuz that’s all I can do, since you insist there ain’t nothing more your healers can do for me to get me back on my feet any quicker. Thorin … I’d be pacing like a bastard if I could stand up straight right now.”

Shul’s frown deepens as she regards me for a long beat, then she steps back and turns in one impressively smooth motion, stalking the rest o’ the way back to the treatment bed. She sets the tray back down on the fancy little wheeled table set up beside it, then backs up again, folding her arms now while taking a heavy breath, growing even more stern now. Letting the three clerics still hard at work on Sessa work their god magic.

A little after the others left, Shul gave up trying to comfort the poor girl and just went to one o’ the cabinets, collecting a little glass vial with a funny dark purple concoction in it. The half-orc was reluctant to drink it when she returned, and I couldn’t blame her, I didn’t like the look o’ that shit at all. But Shul insisted, and ultimately it seemed benign enough once she’d finally gulped it all down. In another minute she was swaying and ready to drop, and it was easy enough for them to just lower her onto the bed and start working in earnest. Soon she was quietly dozing away while they bustled around her with their prayers and magic hands.

As Shul takes a few idling, meandering steps out into the open floor again, I try breathing in another deep breath and only manage half of it before the pain in my chest makes my lungs seize up and I cough a little. When she stops where she is and looks my way I rise a hand to wave her off before she can come to my aid, instead just giving my chest a gentle thump which I only half regret after. “Oh … shit … I’m fine. Well, tolerable, anyway … just relax.” I look up again. “How is she?”

This time when she looks my way, her pause is more loaded, more complicated, and a lot less sharp. Letting out another heavy sigh, she looks down again before answering, choosing her words carefully. “She’s in a very bad way. She’ll live, but … those wounds are bad. They’ll scar, and it’ll be ugly. And her arm …”

Yeah, her arm … that was the first thing they dealt with when the potion finally knocked her out, cinching the tourniquet a little tighter while Shul hustled to collect a small but very sharp-looking selection of little surgical blades to cut away the worst of the damaged limb. There’s less than six inches of stump left below her shoulder now, and two o’ the three clerics are now concentrating their healing spells on this. I’m kinda glad I can’t really see what they’re doing now, it made me feel a bit sick seeing ‘em remove that torn, ruined flesh and splintered bone before dumping it into a little bin that Shul quickly hustled away again.

“Yeah.” I half-sigh, half-growl it. “That damage is … it’s horrible. You say you never seen anything like that before?”

“No. Not here. That is … whatever did this was something truly fell.”

“And now they’re off facing more of … that.” I clench my fists in my lap, I really can’t help it. “We think …”

“Minerva … I hope not.” Shul finally loosens her arms and takes several big, forceful strides across the room, then stops on the spot and turns round before just … pausing. Genuinely dithering, now I think about it. Her anxiety’s gnawing at her something fierce, like with me. She just stands there for a long moment, not quite chewing on her claws, but I get the feeling she’s really tempted.

I get it, she’s worried. I am too. Du and Brung are in the thick o’ that right now, ported right into the middle of … something awful, if Sessa’s somewhat delirious description of what she went through is a fair indicator or what they’re facing. ‘Course the others are too, and I’m worried ‘bout them too, I mean I’m becoming proper fond o’ the bunch of ‘em, but … my friends are the ones I’m really scared for right now. Most of all, anyway. The reason I’d be pacing like crazy if I could.

I’ll admit, part o’ me genuinely hopes they were just too late, that when they arrived all that was left was a half-gutted house, or a load o’ blood an’ bodies and nothing else. Or even that they arrived and found it was something else, something they could handle easy. Or even a mistake. Although I remember what Lady Naru said, when she tried to communicate with her friend … shit …

So I don’t try to make light, or sugarcoat things, she’s too sharp for that. Shul’s one o’ the brightest folk I ever come across, I reckon. I couldn’t lie to her if I tried. An’ I ain’t got the heart to try this time. So I just let her start pacing again, a small part o’ me envying her some for her ease with that …

“Make way!” The shouting in the corridor outside, sounding distant at first but getting closer fast, rattles the pair of us. “Make way! Fucking shift it, you daft moron!” I almost spill right out my chair I straighten up so quick, and my back screams from the sudden strain, which just sets the rest o’ my still-healing injuries off again too, so I just double right over again. Shul, meanwhile, is already making for the door.

Just in time for a great dark streak of forceful energy to barely miss bowling her over as they barge through. I’m a long beat realising it’s Art, moving at a very fast walk that’s still covering ground at an impressive clip, and for another beat I wonder why he ain’t just running, ‘least until I see Darwyn bundled up in his arms. Looking as pissed off as she is in pain, I realise, and while he’s making his best effort not to jog her he clearly ain’t succeeding in his careful haste. “Help! Help me now, please! Anybody here?”

Fuck … so much for hoping it was all just a false alarm …

Shul rallies like a champ, turning on the spot even as she dodges aside from the door and starting right after him on light feet, not a hint of her anxiety showing now, her face is already stern and all business, I could almost laugh seeing how smooth she just switches. Honestly, I find it kinda hot, actually. “This way.” She lays her hand on Art’s shoulder and very gently turns him towards the other side o’ the room, guiding him towards one o’ the empty beds, and in the same instant clicks her fingers and beckons to one o’ the other clerics stood by patiently. She instantly pushes away from the wall, trotting over with similar workmanlike hustle.

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Sitting up, I look towards the door again as Art sets his ex down on the bed and they immediately start fussing over her, politely but firmly ushering him out the way. There’s more out there, I realise … yeah, even as the door’s swinging closed again I see more coming right after him, so I reach out now and grab hold o’ the crutches. It takes me a few moments to get ‘em sorted enough to be able to push myself upright enough to get my feet under me, and by then the door’s opening again.

Lady Naru strides into the room with her staff clutched tight in her hand, while her other arm’s around the shoulders of a teenage girl in a rather bloodstained white shift, clutching a much smaller child tight to her chest. This little girl can’t be more’n six, I reckon, and it takes one look for me to realise she’s basically just a tiny version of the one holding her. They both got heads of thick, wildly tousled and unruly dark brown curls, and incredibly striking grey eyes, like wolves’, but with a good deal more warmth. And they’re also both really pretty, the elder girl willowy lean as I’d expect from her youth, but there’s clearly some strength in her. Mostly, though, right now they both just look tired. No, more even than that … fuck, they seem almost broken.

Two more follow, and immediately I realise it’s a mother comforting her son. The boy’s maybe seven, but it’s already clear he’s going to be tall before he’s finished growing, his own mop of dark curls cropped closer but just as endearingly wild, and he’s similarly handsome, if in a more youthfully rugged way. There’s a similar weariness mixed with clear grief in him, but his seems a good deal angrier, a dull, cool fury behind his much more narrowed eyes, while his face is very closed off, showing he’s fully withdrawn into himself.

The moment I see his mother I know who this is. Kesla never got a chance to describe the Hellcat of Kumehn Valley to me but from what little I’ve learned about her idol I know immediately that that’s who this is. Maybe it’s the distinctive scars marking her face and neck, one twisting the corner of her mouth in such a way it gives her the slightest arrogant sneer, or maybe just the way she carries herself. Or most likely it’s the impressive bastard sword hanging idle from her weary hand as she mostly just stumbles in, looking more haunted than the rest of her family combined.

Gods … she looks like she’s been through hell, even though there ain’t a fresh mark on her. It’s all clearly emotional damage here. Her own eyes are a good deal colder than her children’s, truly wolfish to my eye, and this enough should mark her as really dangerous, but there’s a hollow, broken exhaustion to her that tells me she’s moving almost entirely on instinct now. The clear tracks of tears marking her cheeks are just confirmation of her emotional state to me now.

Even so, I can still see what Kesla admires so much about this woman. She’s incredibly striking, not just in her impressive stature, almost tall as Shay and just as lean, but with that same tightly-coiled, steely mix of a dancer and fighter’s inherent grace to her gait, even when she’s so clearly worn right out. Her face is more angular than her kids’, suggesting that they clearly take some after their da too, and it’s especially clear in her much more prominent nose, which is long and somewhat hooked like a hawk’s beak. Looks like it might’ve been broken a couple times in the past too, but that just adds to her fierceness. Then there’s her own hair, dark as theirs but cropped to little more than somewhat shabby bristles. A consummate career soldier’s haircut, even though I understand she’s s’posed to be retired now. Guess it’s just personal habit and preference now.

Unlike her children she was either still up when this all happened, or she dressed in a hurry in order to respond accordingly. Obviously she never had time to fully gear-up, but while she’s wearing simple woollen britches and solid, chunky walking boots, her lightly padded leather jacket, pulled on over a quilted linen vest, is definitely a pro’s under-armour. And while they’re all somewhat bloody, she’s definitely got a lot on her, most concentrated on her arms and trunk, almost like she’s been cradling someone who died. Oh … no wonder she’s so … yeah …

The last one in don’t seem much better off, but she’s also clearly not part o’ the family. This human woman’s young, a little older’n Gael maybe, but while she’s of similar height she seems bigger, more solidly built, not so much as Kesla but still pretty solid. Much like Lady Thura, she’s dressed in a somewhat disarrayed selection of under-armour, although hers seems more complete, like she was already hustling when it started, or maybe she’d just come off her shift. Either way, she’s clearly part of their estate’s security detail, I don’t even need to take a guess on it. She’s also really pretty, fresh faced and bright-eyed despite her clear exhaustion and all the blood, almost as much as her employer’s got on her, looks like. Or maybe it’s just the indomitable vigour of youth.

So when she follows ‘em in, even though she’s a little unsteady on her feet and worn down enough I think she might be about to drop too, she still scans the room with deep focus, her hand conspicuously laid on the hilt of the longsword hung at her side. They’re safe now, there’s no more threats round ‘em, but she’s still tense and primed, ready to respond if anything jumps out at ‘em. Ready to defend her charges if she has to. Reckon I like her immediately.

As she passes she looks me over, her eyes lingering on my crutches, my hands, my face … evaluating me, clearly. She pauses, just for a moment, but it’s enough. Then she turns and follows the others.

“This way.” Naru guides ‘em to the back o’ the room, heading for the other beds, I guess, but she still gives me a careful look over as she’s doing it, mostly seeming just to acknowledge my presence. Then, once she’s got Thura sat down with her son and everyone’s settled, she comes back for the young woman who’s just stood in the middle of the floor, just looking lost as she realises there’s nothing to be afraid of now. “Uhra … come on. It’s all right. You’re safe now. All of you.”

She don’t respond, just standing there with her hand still clutching her sword, like it’s locked in place now, maybe. When the sorcerer steps up to her and lays a hand on her shoulder she actually jumps, genuinely shocked, and I almost expect her to actually draw on her too, but she manages to hold herself in time. “Oh … fuck … forgive me, my Lady … I …” Slowly, with clear effort, she’s finally able to pry her fingers free, her hands shaking as she lowers ‘em.

“It’s all right, just relax. Calm.” Lady Naru starts to lead her towards the others, gentle but firm. “You’ve done your duty. You can rest now, my dear.”

“Is it over then?” I ask the question pretty much without thinking about it first, surprising myself somewhat. The sorcerer gives me a sidelong glance for a beat, seeming to consider, but don’t answer, instead turning back to her present charge and continuing her gentle guidance. But Art seems to have woken up now, hugging himself tightly as he sort of stumbles my way. For the first time I notice how bloody he is, and I wonder how much of it is Darwyn’s.

“What? Is it …” He blinks at me for a moment, his brows seeming to furrow somewhat now, those big green eyes narrowing as he considers. “No … no, it ain’t fucking over. Kesla … she stayed up there. Shay too, they …” He turns away, starts to speak again, then stops himself for a moment, and now I’m starting to get he’s … fuck, he’s really shook. “And the others … they’re still there, we split up, the ones stayed downstairs … we didn’t see ‘em when we came down. Where …”

Lady Naru’s walking towards him now, reaching out as she approaches, and when she lays her hand on his shoulder she’s real gentle about it, like he’s a skittish horse. “Art? You’re right. They still need help, and I am going to go back for the rest now. You’re going to stay here and watch over your …” She frowns now as she must consider her words. “Your … Darwyn … just stay, please?”

He looks up at her for a long beat, and the way he searches her face tells me he definitely ain’t quite getting it yet. I was right, his mind just ain’t with it right now. Given the state the young halfling’s in there’s no real surprise. “Stay? But … what about –”

Letting go, the sorcerer takes a big step back from him, looking over the family for another beat with a really worried look while some o’ the clerics start checking them over. Then she breaks away, her frown returning, and turns to me. “Yes … I’ve got to go back. Yeslee elected to remain behind, as did your friend, Brung. Things are … problematic in my friend’s estate, it’s rather … hampered our teleportation magic. I must return to ensure we can bring the rest out in timely fashion.”

“Du’s still there too, then?” I take a step forward, which is definitely a much more demanding prospect on these bloody crutches, and crane up at her. “Is he okay?”

She’s a long time answering, and she can’t meet my eyes for much o’ the time she spends thinking, which don’t do my nerves any good. “I’m sorry, Thel, I … I’m afraid I can’t say. It’s very complicated …”

I almost demand she take me with her. I’m ready to throw down my crutches and just grab onto her instead, ready to hiss and claw at her to just port there right now with me and let me crawl inside that bloody house if I have to so I can find my friend. But I stop myself, I have to. That wouldn’t do any good at all, I am in no fit state to jump into this fight right now. And when she finally looks at me, I can tell she’s reading me like a book, which is enough to stop my tongue anyway. “Shit … okay, you gotta go. Just … please bring him back in one piece. Both of ‘em. They’re all I got …”

Nodding, she grasps her staff tightly in both hands, taking a deep breath as she steps back now. “I will. Please watch over my friends while you’re here.”

That makes me blink, a little taken aback by the request, and as I turn to regard Lady Thura and her children, she’s already speaking her little incantation, disappearing in a fat little puff o’ displaced air before I turn back. I frown at the suddenly empty space she was just occupying for a long moment, only stirring again when the pain in my centre starts to remind me I probably shouldn’t be standing round like this, crutches or no.

Then I look up and realise Art’s just stood there, still hugging himself, looking entirely bereft like he don’t have a clue what to do with himself now. I know exactly what he’s feeling, suddenly I don’t know what the hell to do either.

Only for the door to open again a beat later, and Krakka steps inside. Looking sorrier than the rest of us put together, lugging his hammer around at his side like luggage now. He stops just inside as the door swings closed again behind him, and when he sees me looking he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He closes it almost immediately, unable to look at me for more’n another moment, and he just deflates right there, shoulders slumping as he lets out the heaviest sigh I reckon I ever heard in my life …