Bad Bandaging (Jarhal)

[Anila]

Spring 16
Year: 511 AV

"Argh!" Anila growled, throwing the knife she was using to help smooth the gauze to the other side of the room in frustration. It landed with a thump. Below her covered feet, Gremian whimpered.

She just couldn't seem to get this bandaging correct and it was driving her up the walls. A thick L shaped twig was currently her 'wounded patient'. It had been trussed up more times than Anila could remember, much less want to count. But, each time, there was something wrong with it.

Whether it be the gauze didn't stick, the dressing was uneven, not tight, or simply loose. Anila just couldn't get it! A bobbing pin was used, in a last attempt, to hold the compress together. It didn't work.

If she couldn't even bandage a twig, how on earth would she manage to wrap a moving creature's wound? For the past week or so, Anila had been working on her bandaging skills. So far Anila wouldn't trust herself to wrap a stick and have it not become infected. Why was this so difficult!

Burying her head in her hands, she groaned in frustration, fingers coursing over the large, red braid upon her cranium. Before her, on top of her pack, lay several laceration cleaning instruments; gauze, taping, a couple disinfecting ointments and a few herbs. The knife which had been used earlier was somewhere across the room. Anila didn't have the energy to fetch it and her fox, Gremian, certainly wouldn't.

Deciding a small break would be best for her mental sanity, Anila scooted away from the utensils, itched Gemian behind his white ears, and headed for the door. A breath of fresh air would considerably help her nerves.

[Jarhal Treeshadow]

The tents of the Opal Clan were a very rare place to find Jarhal Treeshadow. Not because he didn't get injured, but because when he did he preferred to act manly and shrug it off instead of seeking healing. It helped that he was usually a very careful person by nature. In fact, he couldn't recall any particularly serious injury he'd ever received. His mother constantly mentioned that he had a terrible fever when he was a child, even to this day always coming close to tears when talking about how worried she was, but obviously he pulled through that one. Unfortunately being familiar with the healers of the Opal clan meant he was also unfamiliar with which healer to seek when he required one. All of the clean white tents looked identical. His feet had no idea where to go. Did certain pavilions only specialize in certain injuries? No, that sounded silly. Being a healer meant healing anyone regardless of their need, didn't it? It wasn't like being a merchant and bartering for goods. Today Jarhal limped through the lanes of pavilions with his dog, Chural, at his heel. He wore only a simple short-sleeved green shirt of linen and sturdy brown pants, leaving his leafy emerald cloak at home for once. It hurt so much to simply walk that bringing his pack and anything more than necessary was out of the question. With every hobble, the hunter gritted his teeth and winced. A stick to lean on would have been a blessing. The fact he could walk at all, though, told him that he hadn't hurt anything too badly. Probably. As it so happened, the tent Anila was just fixing to leave was the same tent Jarhal decided looked 'healer-ey' enough for his tastes. More precisely, he didn't feel like wobbling any further into the opal tents. He made his pitiful way to the entrance of Anila's home and knocked on the door. Even in such pain, Jarhal did not forget his manners.

[Anila]

"You wanna go with me or stay here, Gremian?" the white fox's orbs slid open, staring an accusing glare at Anila. Giving a sheepish smile, Anila figured that as a 'no' and left Gremian to his napping while she fluttered over simple details of arranging the medical instruments into a clean order on the floor. Her pack was slung lazily over one shoulder, her staff in the other hand.

Anila relied upon the staff as more than just protection. It was a straight walking stick to lean upon if she were to suffer an injury, and would help tranport her back to her tent if, like right now, her medical inventory wasn't nearby. It also helped fetch items from the ground.

Perhaps Anila could find a few healing herbs in the market. Or maybe just some more medical supplies. She had found a small wound on her gilding's back right leg, but it was deep enough to where it would need to be cleansed and watched for infection. Also bandaged. Which was what had prompted Anila to excel in that department.

Pulling the tent door back, Anila came face to face with Jarhal's raised hand. Surprise flooded her. "Why, hello... Can I help you?" the words rolled off her tongue, laced with a slight accent. Her eyes ran over his figure, mind already figuring he was here from an injury... the pained look on his also helped. "Come in, come in." Ushering him inside, she lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug.

So far, Anila had failed to buy any type of furniture which was permanent. A navy blue bedroll decorated one corner, the herbs and other medical supplies lay at the foot of it. A partially unwound roll of gauze sat upon it in a lumpy pile. Gremian was curled up in a ball, triangular head using the waterskin as a pillow to rest upon. Her saddlebags were at the head end of the bed roll, also a makeshift pillow.

"I would offer you a seat, but... Yeah. Feel free to sit upon the bedroll. Or really anywhere you feel comfortable." Having nowhere for a guest to sit made Anila feel ashamed; impolite. Having been brought up to practice proper etiquette. Her mother practically drilled it into her at every possible chance. Then again, having a dagger in a sheath holster around her lower thigh wasn't polite either.