Madison Found by the Squirrel Clan
Location: Mossflower Woods
Characters: Lark, Madison, Elspeth
Lark needs a break from the camp, so she's found a tree near the edge of the woods to stare off into space in the general direction of Redwall, idly trimming the extra quiver-full of thin branches of their leaves, making them into straight(er) shafts. It's needed work, but it doesn't take much thought, so she can mostly think about... whatever it is she's thinking about.
It's certainly quiet. Not much snow manages to reacch the floor in this part of the woods, where the trees and branches are tighter packed. All seems still. Quiet, peaceful, serene. Until... a cough, then a wretch that sends the remaining winter birds flying, startled.
Lark is startled as much as the birds, she'd been spacing out enough not to hear anybeast approaching. Silently cursing herself, the quiver of not-quite shafts gets hung on her knife, which she stabs firmly into the branch up to the hilt with a soft thunk. She reaches for her bow and an arrow as she peers over the edge of her branch to see who might be coughing.
The thin layer of snow that has managed to drift through to the floor is enough to conceal those who wish to be hidden... or even those that do not. Under the base of a thorny though mostly leafless bush, a single redfurred arm protrudes, clutching a small object. Another cough from further beneath the bush, the arm jolting with the sound.
Was that motion? Lark leaps from her tree to a closer one, bow held at one side so as not to break it in the leap. She lands lightly, then clambers down closer to where she thinks she might've seen something, and believes the noise came from.
Whoever or whatever it is, the creature doesn't make any attempt to hide itself further - in fact, it seems oblivious to the fact that it's being observed. The visible paw is holding a tiny vial, the kind kept in infirmaries. It disappears under the bush, where the contents are promptly consumed.
Definitely movement this time. Lark moves on down the tree, landing next to the tree with a crunch of snow and dead leaves. She lets her bow and arrow lead as she peers into the bush, then slowly pushes the branches out of the way to see who (or what) is underneath.
Thanks to the bush, the head and upper body of the creature is free of the thin covering of snow, revealing the figure to be that of a young female squirrel. Cold, shivering, and either not caring or too oblivious to do so. Eyes closed, she pours the contents of the vial into her mouth and swallows, though some falls down her chin.
Lark takes a step back, then reverses her arrow to delicately poke the squirrelmaid with it. "'Ello there," she says quietly.
Madison is poked with the arrow. She's as gracious as any creature might be expected to be when poked, but lacking any energy to back it up, "Mmpphh... Lea'm'lon'..." she murmurs, her words heavily slurred, though a mix of sheer skin-bluingly-cold temperature, and certain other reasons.
Lark can only guess at what's in the flask, but any of her guesses are less than wonderful. She goes down on one knee, arrow and bow disappearing to their appropriate places on her back. "C'mon. You drunk or somethin'? You're going to freeze to death out here."
Madison drops the vial, and weakly reaches under the thin covering of snow, to a pack that had up to this point looked not unlike a rock. Other than that arm, she doesn't move a muscle. "I ha'n't been drunk'n weeks." she says, wincing, though her eyes are glazed, semi-vacant.
"Zat so?" Sarcasm may be lost on the vacant squirrel, but it's beyond Lark to be otherwise. "What's yer name? However ye came to be here, you need ta warm up or ye'll freeze." She eyes the paw going to the pack, unsure if it's for a weapon or yet another vial.
It appears this brief exchange has used up much of her reserves. As predicted, a new vial is produced, but her paw slumps. The squirrel's breath is shallow.
Lark wipes a paw across her brow. Why is it always Lark who gets herself into these things? She leans to remove the vial from the squirrelmaid's hand, hefting the pack to her own shoulder. She thinks she can carry the other squirrel, even if the other is older than she.
Madison doesn't apear to be fully conscious, if at all, but one could swear her fingers still make a twitch, trying to retain possession of the vial. A groan, as she spends the last of her strength, before a final slump.
Lark shakes her head as she secures the pack (with the vial inside) on her back as best she can around the bow and quiver, then does her best picking up the unconscious squirrel. She's not extactly weak, but she's lean, not made of hard muscle. A sigh escapes her as she takes a look around, watching for motion in the surrounding area, then heads back to camp.
Eastern Outpost: Campfire
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Lark carries an unconscious squirrel into the clearing, calling almost immediately, "Aurora? Someone? A little help would be good!" as she heads for the infirmary tree.
Eastern Outpost: Infirmary
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"What is it?" This is Elspeth, who pokes her nose into the infirmary with an irritated sniff.
Lark gently lays her 'find' down on one of the infirmary exam tables, paying attention to not hitting the squirrel's head before answering Elspeth's quiestion. "Found her on the fringe, nearest Redwall. She was drinking something, though she claimed she wasn't drunk before she passed out." Lark removes the pack, opening it to rummage for the vial she'd taken out of Madison's paw. "Here. This is what she was drinking."
Elspeth hustles inside and whisks up the vial, bringing it up to her nose for a careful sniff. Her nose wrinkles, and she passes it back. "Drunk's not th'word for what she is," she old squirrel remarks with an irritated flick of her brushtail. "That's nightshade."
Lark blinks. "I just gave Aurora's tea to a friend at the Abbey who was attacked by the owl. I don't think..." she examines the squirrel in front of her. "Um. I don't recognize her, but I don't see everyone in a place that size. Is this the same tea?"
Elspeth shakes her head. "Doesn't smell it. 'Rora doesn't put.. gah, s'like she brewed up all of Mossflower, can't make anything out. How long's she been out, y'think?" She makes for the cupboards, taking down blankets.
Lark shakes her head, giving a little shrug. "Doesn't take me long to walk from there to here. I picked her up as soon as she passed out. Twenty minutes at the absolute most." She glances from the squirrelmaid to the vial and back. "Odd that she'd knowingly drink dangerous poisons. Especially when there's a mix of things. Nightshade is bad enough on its own."
Elspeth shakes her head, coming over with a blanket she drapes over Madison's form. "Maybe she wanted t'be /really sure,/" the old squirrel suggests with a grim smile. "Righ', let's get 'er warmed up.. what's in 'er bag?"
Lark opens the bag further, now that the offending vial has been produced, and her eyes immediately widen. "Els..." she trails off mid-word, just extending the bag towards the older squirrel, paws holding it wide open. Lark knows not even half of the names of these, after her bare-bones heal-thyself-in-need healing education, but she's no fool.
"Eh." Elspeth cranes her neck over to peer inside, and her eyes widen as well. "..sweet chickory in the ditches," she manages after a moment. Her paws move mechanically, tucking the blanket in around the unconscious squirrel. "What was tha' daft girl _doin?_ Got 'nough t'poison a horde, or heal 'em."
Lark nods, swallowing a few times before words come out. "And she's nearly poisoned herself in the process. I don't know where we should put this, but I'd feel better if it wasn't in easy reach. I don't want to just take them, though, in case she has a very good reason for all this."
"Huh. Ought t'put a lock on our own cabinets too, p'raps," Elspeth snorts, shrugging off the surprise. "Keep 'm on hand, wait'll she's wake enough t'explain hersel'. Can't imagine any _good_ reason."
Lark sighs, forced to nod agreement. "I'm starting to wonder if I should be heading over to Redwall to ask if they've lost a squirrel or something to that effect. No one is that close to the fringe unless they're coming or going... and Redwall's the logical destination."
"Y'just migh'," Elspeth suggests in her grim drawl. "'M sure they'd be interested t'know we've got their missin' medicine cabinet. She's not Order, 'n their charity don't extend this far, I think."
Lark shrugs. "You might be surprised. They let quite a bit go, from all sides. Works for me, I can check in on Siv while I'm there. I'm hoping she's up and about. Knowing her, she's all but out of the infirmary by now." She looks over the squirrel in front of her, then sighs. "I'll tell Song that I'm going on ahead. I know she wanted to tell the Order about the dead owl, but this is important too."
Elspeth's nose twitches and her ears perk forward; the older squirrel is suddenly interested. "Siv? Siv what?" she nearly demands.
Lark blinks at the healer, a little surprised at the interest. "I don't remember exactly. It's Sivaine, she's a young adult mousemaid. If she or her sister ever said their last name, it was when I was at the Abbey as a dibbun. B-something, I think, but I don't recall better than that. Why?"
"S'Brennig," the squirrel grunts, and chuckles. "Old Erl's girls. Find one, find t'other. Y'say she's in the infirmary? What with?" Elspeth takes a step towards Lark, suddenly keen for answers.
"She's the one I gave Aurora's tea to. She was part of a party that attacked the owl," Lark says calmly, reaching out to Elspeth's shoulder. "She's *fine* El. If you know Siv, you knew that already." Sigh. "But if you want to come with me when I head to Redwall, you're more than welcome."
"Attakin' an owl ain't 'fine,' innit? Ah well. C'n guess what she was up to." Elspeth eyes Lark and nods, but with a snort that might be a laugh. "Know 'er better'n you do, I daresay. Raised 'er fr'm nappies." The old squirrel looks back to Madison, then Lark, mouth working in thought. "When're y'headin' out?"
Lark turns a chuckle into a cough. "And she did similar for me," she informs the older squirrel. "Though not quite so early on. I'd like to head out now, though I need to check in with Song first. She may want to just let me pass the message along now that we've got a..." she looks at the bag of medicinal supplies. "A patient who needs looking after," she decides after a moment.
The elder squirrel cracks a smile - slow and lazy-lidded, with a hint of smirk. Rather familiar. "She did. Look how you turned out, then.. Tha's good t'hear. 'Er mother was never much for motherin'." She turns away, going to find a chair. "I'll be stayin' then. Can't right well leave this'un alone."
Lark smiles, doing fabulously in her attempt at not chuckling. "If I see Fen, I'll let him know on my way out. Either way, I'm going to head for the Abbey. Don't... don't tell her." She indicates the unconscious squirrel. "See what you can find out first. Telling the abbey might be a threat to hold in reserve."
"Course na'. Let'r spin 'er own net," Elspeth flashes a sanguine grin. "Assume y'll grab dinner at the Abbey, then? Oh, 'n.." She pauses, frowning at Madison. "Give 'er my best. Been a while since we got a lett'r."
Lark nods, knowing that the 'her' involved is not Madison. "I will. Anything in particular you want me to say? To her, or Ardice? They're near inseperable, shouldn't be too hard to find Ardice if I go looking for Siv." She reaches back to her quiver, checking that everything is in order, an unconscious on-my-way-out gesture after a few seasons training with Song. Her paw stops at her waist, at the empty sheath for her knife. "Dang, I'll go borrow one," she murmurs to herself.
Elspeth just shrugs. She finds a chair and drags it over, plumping herself down to keep watch. "She'll be visitin' come spring, or she'll get a right ding 'round th'ear. Good 'nough t'know she's well f'r now." She eyes the sack, then pulls it over and puts a firm footpaw on the neck. "Don' be a daft idiot i' th'snow, hear?" For Elspeth, this is practically a hug and a 'stay safe.'
Lark gives the squirrel a cocky salute. "Yes, marm. Course, marm. Born yesterday, I was." A cheeky grin follows the salute, then the bowsquirrel ducks out the entrance of the tree, laughing lightly.
