Closed An Icy Ride (Garran)

[Sliver]

An Icy Ride
51st of Spring, 513 A.V.

It was the smell of pastries filled with fruit that woke the wolverine Kelvic upon that day. Her nose twitched, eyelids shifting somewhat, then all of a sudden, dark eyes flashed open and pale legs swung over the side of her bed, an enormous yawn escaping between sharp canines.

She ruffled her completely bedraggled locks, partially disheveled braids and sections of her mohawk hanging in complete disarray as the Kelvic shuffled, partially clothed to the mess hall. A few looks of amusement graced her sleepy form, but by this time nearly the entirety of the Icewatch had gotten used to Sliver's non traditional method of waking. She required sustenance to wake, and until she had received it, she didn't much care what she looked like or any opinions of her aesthetic choices.

So after the fifth pastry, that one filled with scrumptious strawberries nd cranberries had filled her stomach, only then did she begin her physical self assessment. As far as her appearance went, today was about average. After downing a few glasses of water she returned to her small room and suited up, slipping on her furs and whatever colored arm band she had been assigned for the week, combing her fingers with her hair and doing up any braids that were truly falling by the wayside.

When she checked herself in the sliver of glass she used as a mirror, the Kelvic grinned a wolfy grin, and was satisfied. Time to get to work.

She was on her way to check the roster near the entrance of the barracks when she heard a heated discussion commencing from one of the de-briefing rooms. All it was really was a cleared out dormitory minus the furniture with a larger table, but they worked well enough.

"I'm not too worried about it. Hunters will delay all the time in the wilderness, it doesn't always mean we need to send half the guard to their rescue. Of all the Holds they are most ready for the dangers of the Reachers."

"That is not the way the hunter made it sound when he said his friend had delayed, and there's a storm brewing on the horizon, it would be unwise to delay a search and rescue."

"All duties are filled for the day, re-arranging is going to be a hass-"

"Is there someone stuck in the wastes?" Sliver knew there was this rule that one should listen to a conversation for a couple chimes before interjecting, but frankly, she rarely had the patience for it. A couple faces turned and one female, a spritely Vantha originally from Coolwater smiled.

"Boys, I think we're in luck. Sliver changes duties nearly on a daily basis, perhaps we could send her?"

One of the males, the bear bonded to the aforementioned Vantha furrowed his brow. "Just one?"

The female shrugged, and Sliver cleared her throat. "What exactly is the problem?"

The female scratched her nose. "We have a Frostfawn, friend of his came by and reported that he was missing, went out to train some horses and didn't return when he said he would or something like that...believe the name was Garran?"

It was Sliver's turn for her brow to furrow. She remembered a Garran Frostfawn...form the Red Diamond not too far back. The handsome one who had had a drink with her as they discussed the Ice caves. He had not seemed so swayed by the Hold Gossip as his friends. To think that he had come to harm out in the Reaches made Sliver frown. She did not know this man well, but it did not sit right with her.

"Do you know where he was headed?"

"East from the city about half a days ride, so a longer walk, headed for one of the small alpine forests I believe, better for the horses or some such."

And that was all the wolverine needed. She raised a curled fist in acceptance of her mission, and without another word packed her things. A small sack with her pup tent, ample water and dried rations were all she brought. Her human form would take her faster than the lumbering wolverine ever could, and carry supplies more easily. If she wasn't back soon they would send a larger party after her, but there was no need in devoting a large task force to this...hopefully.

Setting out at a brisk jog the Kelvic slammed through the entry doors of the barracks and started out across the city streets. She gave her report as she exited the gates and headed due east, hoping that Garran hadn't gotten too far off track. If she kept her running up she might be able to find him before Syna was full in the sky, as it was the sun had only just begun to peak over the horizon. Only when she began to traipse over the icy snow did she think about the prospect of horses...strange and scarily intelligent creatures, Sliver didn't care too much for them. But that was a bridge that could be crossed when one reached it...or some saying like that.

[Garran Frostfawn]

OK…this was a frickin’ mess. Garran eyed the colt’s leg, his face pulled into a long frown of dismay. Ignoring the pain in his hand, he used the uninjured one to run down the length of the back of the cannon bone of his near foreleg. If he had to hazard a guess, he’d say there was a fracture at the bottom of the splint. He hoped not, but the swelling and heat around the area were pronounced and the colt was going completely lame on that leg, not willing to bear any weight on it. The trainer cursed softly and straightened. The first rays of daylight were breaching the horizon and the pale illumination filtered through the evergreen boughs of the tall, spindly spruce. It was bad luck, and nothing more – nothing that was really preventable and one of the many, many hazards of horsemanship out here, in the wilds. The colt turned its soft muzzle to him, blowing out a curious breath onto the back of his hand. Horses were certainly a stoic breed – as most animals were. Unlike humans, they rarely gave in to any dramatics over the pain of injuries such as this. And it was a sign of bonding and trust that the animal seemed to be looking to the human for a solution to their predicament. It was a good one. The colt was lame and could barely walk. Garran had suffered a minor injury to his thumb, though it hurt like hell. He knew it was dislocated, from the weird way it stuck out at a very wrong angle. It was hardly enough to keep him from returning to the city, and his mare, Falla, could certainly carry him there in less than a few hours. But that would mean leaving the colt behind, totally defenseless against predators – wolves, bears, even wolverines could tackle a horse that couldn’t walk, let alone run, away. And that he would not do. Even if the bone was fractured…. Garran lifted his face to the sky, measuring as he could what the day was likely to bring, in terms of weather. He’d been gone from the Hold since the day before, having set out around lunchtime with the two horses, cautious enough to tell his friends where he was heading and when he’d likely be back. They’d taken the spill shortly before he had intended to turn and head back to Avanthal, so they were on the far side of that journey. But still, he calculated someone would be along eventually. It might take them a while to locate him and the horses, though, for the accident had landed them in the bottom of a slight ravine, and thus they were less visible than it they’d been up on the relative flat of the spruce forest. In fact, it had been the almost hidden nature of the fissure in the ground that had tripped them up. Like an idiot, he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the topography, and he had taken the route that had a thinning of trees, just for ease of transverse. In fact, though, that thinning had actually signaled the lip of a sharp decline, covered with scree, and ice - even this late in the Spring. He’d been riding Falla, leading the colt, who he’d decided was ready for some trail time to further his training as a pack animal. The colt had skittered when a Ptarmigan had exploded from a willow thicket, and his hind leg had slid over the edge of the brush covered gap. Panicked, the young horse had scrambled about and Garran, caught off guard by the kerfuffle, had not had enough time to calm the beast before they all three went sliding over the edge. Falla, experienced as she was, had kept her feet, despite the sharp pitch of the slope. The colt had not been so lucky, and gone down on his knees and nose. Gravity had overcome Garran’s usual ability to stick on the saddle and he too had taken a nosedive right over Falla’s shoulder and hit the rocky ground with his hand awkwardly under him. The three had ended up thirty or so feet down the slope, where it leveled out, and it was clear the colt had suffered a significant injury to his foreleg. Garran hadn’t much hope that time would improve the situation, but neither had he any way to magically lift the animal back out of the ravine. So…he had settled down to wait, for help. Apparently, his friends were set on taking their sweet time. He had clambered up the rise and tied Falla’s saddle pad to a tree, where it would be clearly visible. Then he had descended to the two animals, and managed to start a fire with his flint and steel. He’d brought along a small bit of food – always a good idea on such forays, and had his water skin. He’d scouted out the path of the meandering crevice, and thought there might be a gentler slope to get the horses up – but that still begged the question as to how he could get the colt moving. He had some ideas, but he’d need some manpower – and more horsepower – so he hunkered down as Syna dipped below the horizon, and prepared to pass the hours of darkness on the alert for those predators he’d been worried about. Luckily, there were no glowing eyes and sniffing noses in the night, and he was thankful for that. As dawn approached, he wished his mates would hurry up and come find him, or send someone to do so. They were hunters for god’s sake – they should be easily able to track a man and two horses who wanted to be found! Looking up at the sky, then, he sniffed audibly and he knew – snow was on its way. Great. That would make things so much easier…

[Sliver]

She couldn't have gotten far upon her run. Her breath came out in wisps of steam that evaporated an instant after hitting the cold air, and a fierce wind had started up, hindering her progress as it pushed directly against her. One mile maybe two. It was going to take all day for her to reach Garran at this pace, an idea which frustrated the Kelvic to no end.

So when she first heard what might have been hoof beats upon the ground she paid them no mind.

When she heard a snickering whinny, however, she had no choice but to turn around, guffawing at the sight behind her. Two Frostmarchs were galloping straight for her, one empty, the other with a rider. They slowed their pace as they neared the Kelvic, and Sliver had to hold a hand over her eyes to see the form that sat atop one in the glare of Syna's light.

"You're not going to reach him at that pace, Icewatch, climb aboard."

The implications of the statement galled the guard, despite their relevancy. "Who are you?"

"A friend of Garran, now come on." Sliver's lips curled in distaste, and after a moment she recognized the man as the one that insulted her from the bar. Not as striking in looks as the Garran fellow, certainly, but his face still remained in Sliver's mind. He was not joking no, nor turning away her help...she supposed that was apology enough, but to mount a Frostmarch?

"I don't do horses..."

"Well you can keep running and get left behind, or you can get atop ol' Misty here and she'll carry you good and far so we can find our friend."

Sliver growled low and under her breath, slowly approaching the large animal. The one named Misty stuck out her soft nose towards the Kelvic, snorting in curiosity, and Sliver snorted right back, baring her teeth. The mare's snout pulled back away, ears turning backwards in the beginnings of distress.

"No need to be mean, Icewatch, she's just trying to help you out." The Kelvic closed her lips and offered a slightly more welcoming hand. In response, Misty shoved her nose forward and nipped her fingers.

"Petching Shyke that hurt!"

"In the Queen's name!" The Frostfawn dismounted, assuring his own mount before taking a gentle hold of Misty's reins and bringing her back toward Sliver. "Alright I'll hold her, just put a foot in the stirrup and heave yourself up, alright?"

Sliver obeyed, grabbing hold of the saddle pommel and placing her left foot in the stir up. Hauling herself up involved sliding her stomach slowly, slowly over the entirety of the saddle before awkwardly swinging her right leg over, and gradually sitting up. Already she didn't like the height this put her at, how she had no control of her feet, because this strange quadruped was in command. The Frostfawn handed her the reins.

"Just hang tight, alright, she'll follow our lead."

He mounted up and kicked his heels into the wither of his horse, tongue clucking. Then before Sliver was ready for it Misty jumped from her stationary position into a gallop. Sliver's arse moved up and down, both hands gripping the pommel, eyes wide with anxiety and anguish in equal measure. This Garran fellow better be in serious trouble, she thought to herself as Misty jumped a fallen log and Sliver nearly fell off of the horse.

-----

Whether the Kelvic wanted to admit it or not, the horse ride brought them significantly farther in a much shorter span of time. They reached the edge of the alpine forest in a bell and a half if her calculations were right, and thankfully for her she got to dismount there. The Frostfawn led the two horses and Sliver began to check for tracks. It wasn't long before she found human prints interspersed with hooves in strange patterns along the thinner layer of snow that lay beneath the trees, and she began pursuit.

After another bell of searching she noticed that some weather had swept away any evidence of the trail he had taken. Following the general direction that the original hoof and foot prints had led her in, there was only one logical step to take.

"Garran! "GARRAN!"

And so two voices called out within the forest, one male and one female, searching for the Frostfawn. The Kelvic couldn't imagine a fatality...at least not yet, but the slim prospect slid across her lips and made her calls louder. Not on her watch.

[Garran Frostfawn]

The morning was proceeding with frustrating slowness The cloud cover was so heavy, Garran was not even sure what time it might be. The wind had picked up, and one small blessing of being stuck down in this rather narrow ravine was that the worst of the wind’s bite passed overhead. Still, he knew the temperature was dropping. Morwen’s mark would stand him in good stead - the horses had their long shaggy coats still, despite it being “Spring” – but he was concerned for the colt, whose body was busy fighting off the negative effects of the broken bone and whose immobility worked against him when it came to keeping warm. Garran had coaxed Falla over to stand side to side with the younger horse, to share some bit of body heat. His own thumb was aching but he tried to concentrate on the horses to divert his mind from the pain. Finally, snow began to fall, whipped by the strong wind into something akin to sand being flung against them, stinging any exposed skin. The two horses turned tail, the colt clumsy and whickering in distress at his own pain. Garran wedged himself between the two necks – a fire would have been impossible unless he had dug a fire hole and the ground was too hard for that. In his partial shelter of horse flesh, he waited…. Realizing that the deteriorating weather was going to significantly reduce both visibility and any tracks which he and the horses had made, Garran began to reevaluate his options. The saddle pad he’d tied to the tree was white, unfortunately – not the best color for sticking out against the swirling snows. Even simply mounting up on Falla, and heading home without the colt – which was still not something he was willing to do – was problematic. He was Vantha, but he was no hunter and didn’t have the best skills at negotiating a course in a near blizzard. He had seen a bit of a declivity, further on up the gorge, which would have provided more shelter from the wind. But he had earlier decided that the path there would prove impossible for the injured colt. Whatever strain he would put on that leg, whatever chance to save the animal’s life and usefulness existed, he had thought to wait to the one push that would be needed to get him up out of the gorge and onto a sledge. No point in saving the horse from freezing only to have damaged the leg past any hope of healing. There was Falla, though. Garran considered that he could turn her loose (she wasn’t bound or restrained in any way as it now so he was thinking figuratively here) and she could go find her own best shelter from the storm. But…he knew she wouldn’t. They were so closely bonded, man and animal, that Garran knew Falla wouldn’t willingly desert him. So…he waited… Time passed, he supposed, though he couldn’t say at all now how much of it was gone by, and then he heard a thin shout. It was swept away on the wind almost as soon as it touched his ear. But he listened, acutely, and within a quarter chime he heard it again. Hard to say who it might be, out there in the wind and driving snow, but he had heard the one word voiced. Garran! Dislodging himself from the shelter of horse bodies, Garran scrambled up the slope more by feel than by sight. Snow flew in his face, and the wind did its best to push him backwards, but he persisted and soon enough was at the top. Struggling to stand upright, he leaned into the blast that met him and called out, fearing his words were being ripped clean out of his mouth before they could travel to whoever it was that was searching for him. “Over here!” He waved his arms wildly, hardly able to see into the storm. “Over here! Hi! Yo! I’m here!”

[Sliver]

If she had been in wolverine form the Kelvic's ears would have pricked noticeably at the first hint of sound. At first it was merely the wind whistling through the trees. She desperately wanted to hear a voice, or perhaps even a whinny of an injured horses...but nothing save the cold breeze swept across the land, heralding the beginning of snow.

But she was the one who heard it first, a very distinct male voice, even if the wind did its best to dissipate the sound. The Kelvic froze for a moment, but upon the second call she swung to look back at the Frostfawn that had journeyed with him.

"He's over here!"

Without waiting for a response she began sprinting through the thick snow. His voice hadn't sound panicked, scared, or pained, which was good, right?

Slogging through the icy granules, she caught the top of a dark head, arms waving frantically in the air and Sliver couldn't help but grin. "Garran, we're here!"

She slowed to a walk as she approached the slow decline of the hill, trees disappearing before her as she approached the ravine. Despite whatever circumstances he was under it seemed the Frostfawn did not let much irk his calm demeanor. The Kelvic stopped a few feet before the man and glanced down the steep slope, seeing the two equine below. Despite whatever problems they would have to overcome from here on in, the guard was just relieved that all the beings she could see were alive and at least somewhat well. The expression straightened as she eyed Garren, scrutinizing him up and down.

"How are you? Are you injured? The horses?"

It was about then that the two Frostmarch mares and Garran's friend approached at a slightly slower pace from behind. They were saddled with some gear, though Sliver herself was not sure what, but she assumed they would help with whatever issue came next.

The Kelvic glanced worriedly up at the darkening sky. She could have sworn the snow wasn't supposed to be there for another day...but then again weather predictions were shaky at best. The thought of being stuck here overnight was not a pleasant one, but it was a potential as the wind picked up and the snowfall seemed to be increasing by the chime.

oocFeel free to flesh out this horrendously ambiguous NPC that I brought along, haha. Didn't want to give him any truly distinct features other than the fact that Sliver vaguely knew him.

[Garran Frostfawn]

Despite the stinging wind and snow, Garran’s eyes widened as the figure that came jogging towards him slowly took form – a familiar form but one he had not expected to see. But his momentary surprise was quickly replaced by the realization that Sliver showing up here, looking for him, made complete sense. It only stood to reason that his friends at the Hold would notify the Icewatch that he hadn’t returned. And in turn, it made just as much sense that they would send a guard, or possibly guards, to go look for him. The chances of it being Sliver were just as good as it being any of the other guards, so…why not her? All this passed through his head in the blink of a frozen eyelash, and above all else, he felt a great rush of relief to see the young woman, piercings and all. He smiled and walked towards her, well, trotted really, still waving his arms like a maniac, even though she’d obviously already honed in on him. He didn’t stop until she called to him, and she was close enough that he could see her smile and he gave her a huge one in return. “Sliver! By Morwen – you are a sight for sore eyes!” Garran laughed with relief, as they drew closer together still, Sliver having slowed her pace to a walk by this point. She was peering over the lip of the ravine, where the two horses moved restlessly, well aware of the presence of new creatures in their immediate environment. Falla gave a little nervous whicker, something like an inquiry to Garran about whether this was friend or foe. “It’s OK, “ Garran called cheerfully to the mare. “We have help now, girl.” He turned his attention back to the guard and she peppered him with questions concerning his state of being. Garran held his hands up palm outwards, in a reassuring gesture. “I’m fine. Just a dislocated thumb, I think…” Anyone looking at the digit could see it was sticking out at an odd angle. He nodded down towards the horses below. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for the colt down there.” Though loud enough to be heard over the wind, his voice was far more somber. He didn’t elaborate, though, for looking past her, he saw another figure approaching at a walk, leading two saddle horses. Once again, Garran’s face brightened. It was good to see these familiar faces, despite the grave dilemma of how they were going to deal with the injured horse. “Malick!” he called out, waving his arm again. His friend came up to them, and he and Garran hugged energetically, slapping one another on the back. When they pulled apart, Malick said with feigned disdain, “Morwen’s mark, Gar! Can’t you even be trusted to go for a little joy ride without getting lost?” His voice was chiding but there was definitely a note of genuine concern underscoring his flippant words. Garran was grinning, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Yeah, trouble maker, I know. Sorry to pull you away from your breakfast.” He looked up at the swirling snow and added, “And lunch too, maybe dinner.” The other Vantha, dark haired and with eyes that swirled green at the moment, of an age close to the horse trainer, regarded his friend with a serious expression. “What happened? Why didn’t you come back yesterday?” Garran’s expression shifted too, from relief and happiness to see his rescuers, to a frown of dismay. No use putting off the truth, though. So as the wind blew the snow about them, he said unhappily, “The colt I had out spooked and we all ended up sliding down that slope.” He gestured to the one Sliver had peeked over. “Falla managed to keep her feet. The colt…didn’t.” Garran shook his head. “I think he broke a bone – hopefully it’s just a hairline fracture. But…he’s completely lame and can’t walk.” He let that sink in for a moment. Then he went on with the only plan he’d been able to come up with, as he had waited for someone to come find them. “You’ll have to go back, Mal, and get a sledge. I think we can get the colt up the slope – maybe. Then we can load him on the sledge and take him back. It’s really the only chance he has. Otherwise…” Garran shrugged. He didn’t think he’d need to finish that sentence. Trying to configure his face into more positive lines, he said with an effort at optimism. “If you two leave right now, you could be back before dark, I’m pretty sure. I’ll stay, just in case…you know…bears, wolves…rabbits.” He gave a little laugh, trying to be more of his usual upbeat self. They knew where he was and if they could just get a sled and team back here, the colt would at least have a chance at survival and recovery.

[Sliver]

Sliver took her time to survey the situation as Garran and Malick discussed the problem with the colt. If only the thing had been a bit smaller she could have simply carried it or something. The Kelvic shook her head with the foolishness of the wish, IF the creature had been smaller Garran would have been able to take it back to the city himself.

The plan sounded solid, it would be easy for some members of Frostfawn to hitch a Frostmarch or perhaps a few caribou to drag the thing here so that the colt could be brought back, but at the mention of returning to the city and back before nightfall...well such a feat would involve getting back upon Misty, an idea that the Kelvic was just not willing to entertain.

"Perhaps it would be better if I remained with you...if Malick and I were unable to return because of the storm it would mean that you'd be stranded out here another night without proper protection."

Malick raised an eyebrow and Sliver held up both hands exasperatedly. "No offense to your mount or anything...like I said, I don't do horses..."

Which left the Frostfawn to depart by himself through the treacherous snows. He took the saddle bags from the one named Misty and heaved them to the ground. "There's some feed, rope, and a tent in here just in case. I'll be back as soon as I am able."

He gave a passing glance to Sliver, and a more serious one to Garran before mounting up and taking the two horses with him, trampling over the snow and leaving the Icewatch guard with Garran and the two horses.

Sliver ruffled through the bag, checking the contents and nodding slowly, then glancing at Garran. "I can collect wood for a fire, if you want to feed them, but first, your thumb."

Without so much as asking Sliver swiftly grasped at Garran's wrist, yanking it towards her. Though she was rough with this initial movement, her assessment of the hand was significantly more gentle. Her fingers pressed gently along his palm, slowly inching towards his thumb, dark eyes watching his face to see his reaction to the pressure. Honestly she had little to no idea what she was doing. She knew how to snap in a dislocated shoulder, but working with a thumb seemed a harder process due to it's size. When she saw his face, still calm and upbeat despite the circumstances crease with pain she eased off the pressure. "Sorry..." Whether it was sorry for inflicting pain or an apology for her abrupt behavior remained to be seen, but her eyes were focused back on the strange way the bone stuck out. She knew how a thumb was supposed to go in relation to this, and it seemed to stem from where it connected to the rest of the hand, not any of the joints upon the thumb itself.

Rubbing her head, somewhat abashed she frowned. "I don't feel confident trying to crack it back into place, so let's wrap it up and make sure nothing worse happens to it, aye?" She reached into her own bag for bandages, and removed a bottle of salve, applying it to where the skin of his hand had started to purple and bruise, moving the thumb into a more comfortable folded position so it wasn't sticking out at such an odd angle, gingerly wrapping it. Her demeanor had gone from fairly confident to her hands shaking at the last part, though this could have been from the steadily dropping temperatures as well.

"Sorry..." She said again, feeling utterly useless when it came to medicine. "Let me get that wood..." Without another word she began tramping up the hill, searching for pine needles and stray branches that could be used to coax out a fire in the growing inclement weather they would be experiencing that evening, cursing herself for being such an ineffectual guard as she did so. Couldn't even fix a dislocated thumb?

[Garran Frostfawn]

Malick’s face had pulled down into dour lines, too, as Garran explained the situation. He too looked down into the ravine, eyeing the colt, then turned his gaze back to his friend. “Garran, you know damn well that…” Garran threw up a silencing hand and interrupted, talking hurriedly. “I know what you’re going to say, Mal. But I can’t. Not yet.” The trainer gave the hunter a knowing look. “There’s still a chance, Mal. He may heal yet, if we can just get him back to the Hold…” Malick shook his head, cynically perhaps, but with good justification. How many horses with broken bones ever healed well enough to be of any use to anyone? He looked as if he would say something, then seemed to change his mind. Slowly he nodded. “Alright, Gar. I’ll go. We’ll try.” Clearly, the hunter didn’t agree with his friend’s optimism. But their bond was enough that he would make the effort to give Garran the chance to save the colt. At this point, Sliver chimed in with the suggestion that she stay behind with Garran. Of course, the trainer didn’t know how the Kelvic felt about riding, and he assumed it was a gesture of sympathy – and born from her probable realization that he wasn’t the most skilled survivalist around. His own slight guilt over being the cause of her having to come out on this search and recue mission in the first place prompted him to form an argument against her staying. But before he could voice it, Malick – unexpectedly – beat him to it. “I think that’s wise,” the hunter said. He had seen the Kelvic’s attempt at riding, and he would have agreed in a heartbeat with her that he’d do much better, and go faster, on his own. Perhaps a few weeks back he might even have thrown that in her face. But today, he simply appreciated her efforts to help his friend. So he kept his opinion of her riding to himself, and said to Garran, “I’ll do my best. But there’s no guarantee we’ll be back by dark. She’s far better trained than you are, if wolves come prowling around.” Malik laughed to try to ease some of the tension. “I’d hate to see you become some bear’s dinner.” Then he added more seriously – knowing it would be the clincher – “Or see the horses harmed. She’ll be able to save all your hides, if it comes to it.” Garran’s gaze went to Sliver and he nodded, a bit hesitantly – not because he doubted her abilities. He was just dismayed that this whole situation had cropped up. But he supposed this was part of her job – a job she apparently liked, though that might have been an assumption on his part. In any event, it was a job she had volunteered for and one she was paid to do, so… “Alright. I’m sorry to put you to this bother, Sliver. But…I’ll be glad of your company, and expertise.” There didn’t seem to be a whole lot more to say and there was every reason for Malick to get going as soon as possible. In the space of a minute, the hunter had unbuckled the saddle bags from one of the mounts and tossed them to the ground, listing their contents in a businesslike way. In truth, he wished very much that Garran would allow him to put an arrow through the colt’s heart, and the three of them could just be on their way home. But he knew his friend wasn’t going to go for that. So, without further argument or discussion, he mounted his own horse and with Misty in tow, he left them, his figure and the two horses disappearing into the lowering sky and swirls of snow. As he disappeared, Garran turned to Sliver and she mentioned his thumb. He looked down at it and grimaced a bit, thinking here too was just another complication, though not a huge one. He was surprised when she reached out and took it in her hand, pulling it towards her. The motion was at first a bit rough, and he felt a stab of pain jolt through the heel of his thumb and into his wrist. Maybe it was broken, and not just dislocated. He had no idea. Sliver inspected it a bit, her touch more gentle now, her fingers probing closer and closer across his palm until… “Ow! Yeah, I think you found it,” he said with a little gasp, but then he laughed. “Sorry, no prize money for that discovery.” Their eyes met and he tried to look positive – negativity sure wouldn’t help them at all. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “Go on. I trust you.” He nodded in acquiescence to her suggestion, and cooperated as best he could with her efforts to bandage the thumb and hand up so that at least it wouldn’t be jarred about as much by random movements. Garran tried hard to not show any discomfort, whatever she did, as he didn’t want to rattle her if he could avoid it. Overall, she did well enough and it wasn’t such a bad procedure – he kind of thought Sliver was more torn up by it than he was. Soon enough, his hand was bandaged snugly, and her mahogany eyes lifted to his again. “No apologies necessary,” he said with his easy smile. “Unless it’s me apologizing to you for being the cause of this little screw up.” He shook his head a bit in self-castigation. “I should have been more careful, and watched where we were going. I just didn’t catch on that we were right on the lip of that slope – until it was too late.” Sliver then seemed….anxious…to put some space between them, and said she’d go gather up some fire wood. She did seem a bit unhappy, and Garran simply nodded. “Alright. I’ll feed the horses. I’m sure they’ll be quite happy about that. Then I guess we can set up the tent? Even if Mal gets back before nightfall, it’ll make a good wind break.” So saying, he hefted the saddle bags to his shoulder and scrambled back down the slope, with a welter of mixed emotions bubbling inside him.

[Sliver]

The Icewatch guard put her back to the brunt of the wind as she stooped in the snow to fetch dry tinder and larger branches, carefully stowing them away beneath her elbows until the pile had amassed itself so that she had to carry it between both arms. She cursed herself for being so flighty and strange to the man. All Garran was doing was trying to uplift her spirits, all she seemed to be doing was creating awkward scenarios.

Pushing the thoughts from her mind the Kelvic began to head back to camp when she noticed a blur pass her by out of the corner of her eye. In an instant the wood dropped from her hold and an eager and slvaring Kelvic was bounding through the snow after the large lopping hair. Sections of cloth flew off one by one until a naked female swiftly transformed in a bout of smoke into her wolverine form, four paws hitting the ground running after her prey.

Here there were no worries to be had as she caught the black ear tips of the otherwise snow white rabbit in her sights. A fairly large fellow by standards he would make a fine meal for the two travelers, certainly better than any rations she had brought along in her pack. Snow flew in a constant spray as her stumpy legs kicked it up, dashing over the dunes created in the lees of the trees. More than once she lost her prey, so well camouflaged was he, but while the rabbit had out and out speed, the bulky build of the wolverine had endurance and power. She cornered the rabbit in the corner between two massive separating trunks of a tree and she lunged, teeth engulfing the entire head of the beast and snapping the spine in one thorough bite.

Proudly the wolverine pawed at her prey, picking it up by the skin of its neck and a wee bit more slowly tracing her steps back to where she had been before. Once she reached the partially submerged pile of sticks for the fire she didn't even bother depositing the rabbit, which made her a naked woman with a rabbit in her mouth a moment later. Shivering and cursing through the fur of her kill, Sliver hopped around putting back on her clothes as swiftly as she was able. Mark or no the wind was getting fiercer, and it wasn't balmy weather for her.

Haphazardly dressed the Kelvic painfully picked up her wood again, and marched, red faced and exhausted back down into the ravine. As she approached the camp Garran would notice that the dead hare was still clutched between her teeth.

Sliver glanced at the horses. It wasn't that she wasn't concerned for them. unlike the warring Frostfawn hunters that had had an almost wordless debate about saving the colt's life, she would have been with Garran. The potential of saving the colt's life far outweighed any other consequances. Perhaps a strange opinion to have, but Sliver considered the creatures part of her bubble of protection, much like any Vantha. Garran's safety was her priority, but she saw no reason to kill the young thing because of what she knew as only a minor injury. She had broken her leg more than once, and she was fine.

So the wood was dropped unceremoniously upon the ground, the rabbit a little less so, and Sliver began to dig with her fingers into the cold earth. Not much, but just enough to create a small divet in the snow that reached the dark soil beneath. Starting with the littlest twigs and pine needles she created a gradually expanding pile of brush in which to start their little fire. She scrutinized the construction, but satisfied, rose to assemble the tent. She watched a moment as Garran fed the horses, comforting them with a soft touch and low words that she could not make out. It brought a little smile to her face, and was one of the reasons she appreciated the Frostfawn Hold so much. The Kelvic then took out the large tent, and gingerly stepped around the beasts to assemble it so they too would benefit from the wind block, attempting to do so so as not the disturb the horses overly much. She simply did not want to deal with panicked equine, not on top of everything else.

Lightly hammering in the supports and propping up the canvas folds with long rods, it was not a perfect assembly, a bit crooked and leaning heavily away from the wind...but it would have to do.

She also set up her own pup tent as a slightly smaller wall that worked perfectly right next tot he fire pit, and was crucial for the final part of her mission: Lighting the fire.

Removing flint and tinder she crouched over the small pit and began to hit one upon another. It took a while for her to angle the two objects correctly. Once the sparks began to fly, she brought it closer to the tinder, eyes focused upon the pile. Even after the the first wisp of smoke rose from the pile she continued the motion, arms getting sore from exertion until she saw a flicker of orange within the strange brown and grey palette of wood.

She leaned forward, saw it flicker and nearly die, and blew gently upon it. Of course then a gust of wind swept through and it guttered and died. "Shyke." She muttered. She looked up at Garran and smirked. "Almost never can do it on my first try."

And so she began again, the clack clack clack of stone on metal echoing in the small crevice as flakes rained down upon them, the wolverine's arms growing more tired by the tick. She was fueled by the dead rabbit beside her, however, and glanced up toward the Frostfawn again.

'Glad to see your friend isn't as bad as I thought." She chuckled.

[Garran Frostfawn]

Garran had tried to make himself useful, as Sliver was off hunting down firewood – and other things, though that wasn’t something the horse trainer was aware of at the moment. In the saddle bags Malick had left behind, he found two leather feedbags – the type that could be clipped to a horse's halter – or second best scenario, to their bridle. They were filled with grain, and Garran hesitated before pouring half the contents of each out into the saddle bag itself. Falla and the colt could sure use the body heat the grain would help them produce. But he thought it best to be cautious, and try to make the feed go as far as possible. Hopefully, Mal would be back before dark. Garran wasn’t going to think of that as a given, though. Any number of things could happen to cause a delay – most of which were mundane, but a few of which were things he preferred not to consider. In any case, with the half full nose bags, he went to the mare and the colt and unbuckled the bits on one side and pulled them from the horses mouths. He had kept them attached only because he thought ultimately it would be better for the metal to stay warm. But for the horses to be able to eat, and not be too uncomfortable, he knew the bits would be best out of the way. Buckling the bags to each horse’s bridle, he smiled as they tucked in eagerly. They were hungry, no doubt about that. His own stomach was grumbling a bit too. But that he ignored, for now. When the guard returned, they could see about fixing whatever there was to eat. Not wanting to feel as if he was shirking, Garran made use of the remaining interval before Sliver returned to gather what fuel he could from the immediate area of the bottom and lower slope of the ravine. It wasn’t much, but there was some windfall – one spruce looked to have been dead and down for some years and he thought it would be super dry and would make some good kindling at least. Rocks and scree there was aplenty, and he made a little pile of these to use to put around the edge of the tent that he’d pulled out of the saddle bag. The wind was still blowing like a bastard and the more they could keep things from tearing loose and flapping like some crazed bird, the snugger they’d be and the less chance the horses would get spooked. He was done with these small tasks and the horses were done eating by the time the Icewatch guard reappeared. As she scrambled down the slope, Garran looked up at the sound and did a literal double take. What the hell was that in her mouth? Her clothes too seemed in a state of slight disarray and he frowned a bit, trying to put the pieces of this puzzling image together. He cocked one eyebrow quixotically as she summarily dumped her armload of firewood, and then let what he could now see was a dead rabbit fall from her mouth to the ground. A light was beginning to dawn in his mind, but he didn’t ask her directly about what he was thinking. Instead, he said, “Looks like you’ve had some good luck,” and he smirked at her, noting that despite the cold her cheeks were pink and she actually looked heated. Wondering what kind of animal her Kelvic self must take – for he could see no other explanation for her toting around a dead animal between her slightly too sharp teeth – he thought to himself that he was just glad it must be some kind of predator and a good hunter to boot, both of which might come in handy, depending on how the day progressed. He stooped to pick up the hare, as she went about scratching out a shallow depression for a fire pit. Pulling his knife from his belt, he knelt down, and made a neat incision, right at the point just behind the end of the ribcage, where the pelt felt a bit loose and baggy. Sliding his fingers under the skin, it took only one easy, steady pull to peel the skin right down the animal’s body and off at the hind feet. Then he grabbed the edge of the remaining pelt and pulled it forward, over the shoulders and head, to leave it dangling there. He severed the head at the neck, and ran his knife down the breast and belly, reaching in to extract the guts. He paused then. Usually, he would have tossed these aside. But there were two things that made him think that might not be warranted under the circumstances. First of all, having animal entrails in the bushes might attract predators – and that was certainly the last thing he wanted to do. Secondly, he wondered if his Kelvic friend might not want to consume them – no telling, as he didn’t even know what her other form was. So he set then aside more carefully, for the moment, then looked about for a green stick to use as a spit. He found one and sharpened it a bit with his knife and jabbed it through the carcass. Now it was ready to cook, once they had the fire going. Sliver had laid the kindling and tinder, but was now busy fixing up the canvas tents. Garran lent a hand there – and literally only one, for he had discovered in the skinning of the rabbit that his bandaged hand was beginning to throb quite a bit. They went up well enough, with the canvas providing a good wind break – if it would stay up. Garran secured the edges as he had thought to, with the rocks he had gathered, while Sliver tried to get a fire going. Throughout, they spoke little and tended to the work at hand, and finally Garran came to stand beside where she was knelt, blowing on the tiny embryonic flames. At her remark, he said, “You’re doing better than I could. With this wind and snow, I’ll be surprised if you can get anything lit.” He hunkered down then and tried to provide more of a barrier to the wind with his body. His eyes lifted to the colt, when Sliver spoke of it, and he thought once more about the difficulty of the task ahead, when Mal got back. Garran shook his head a bit, and said in a serious tone, “If I’m right, the bone in question can mend – if we can convince my friend to be relatively quiet for, oh, about four weeks or so.” He looked at the Kelvic and said with a grin, “I don’t suppose you could explain that to him, could you?”