Post by Joliette Thorne on Mar 6, 2011 10:12:18 GMT -5
The forest was silent, oddly so. Where elsewhere in the wooded lands of Larket's southern reaches birds chirped and squirrels argued, where occasional shying hoofbeats and the rustle of rabbits in bushes would be comfort to the ear of anyone even vaguely attuned to the music of nature, this place suffered an obvious and inexplicable lack. Aside from the wind in the trees and perhaps one's own footfalls, the prevailing quiet would likely seem quite unnatural, perhaps even somewhat ominous.
Liana moves as silently as she can through the forest. The wood elf, as attuned to the woods as anyone who walked among their shadows, is drawn inexplicably by the lack of life, the absence of activity in this one small part. Wariness prevails as she draws closer, her steps slowing, each foot placed with infinite care so that neither a rustle nor the crack of a dead branch gives rise to her location. Dressed in a light leather tunic and well-fitted leggings, the woman camouflages nicely with the surroundings. Eyes, blue-grey in colour and piercing in gaze, scan the trees, bushes and undergrowth around her, searching for the source of the disturbance. even a large, predatory animal did not cause this cessation, so where was the reason? Shielding as she waits, she remains still, watching, waiting.
Nearby, a thick screen of wild berry-shrubs shook violently and from somewhere beyond it came a roar. Not the hoarse and possibly goofy kind of roar which might be made by a human-like boy in his late teens - oh no, this was an loud and bestial roar, fit to fill a body's boots with shuddering.
Liana experiences a tiny moment of unease as the roar shatters the unnatural silence of the forest. Her eyes dart to the bushes which appear to be alive, or was it something within them that lived? Tightening her shields, the druid shifts slightly to ensure that she is upwind of whatever lurked nearby, yet still had a clear line of sight to the shaking plantlife. Gingerly, and with a feather-light touch, she allows her awareness to quest towards it. What was it? A simple, slight touch of thought would clarify.
The roar would be followed by a decidedly less impressive - if still somewhat rumbly - whimper, and the bushes once more madly shivered though the cause of the animalistic sounds was not yet apparent. And to Liana the mystery might only deepen further, when tendrils of mind were sent to quest for answers and would find... Well, not anything anyone would expect. If Liana had any doubt remaining that it was no natural beast who bellowed so, her telepathic enquiry would put an a sudden end to it -- for what she'd meet was darkness, a pure and inky blackness that transcended night as the sun's brilliant rays transcend the feeble glow of a tallow candle. Nothingness, an abyss, deep and profound... and whatever her reaction to that second unnatural absence may be, it would be interrupted with another whimper, this one higher-pitched and quite a bit more... well, pathetic.
Liana draws her mind back sharply as it finds that nothingness, that lack of anything. She had felt that once before, or something similar. Unbidden, an image of her dead husband rears in her mind, the recall perfect, the sense of him invading until, with an effort, she forces the recollection away, back into the box of memory to be explored at another time. What in the name of the Gods was she dealing with here? Again the mind ventures forward, although this time with extreme caution. Rather than touching directly the nothingness, Liana simply projects a general question. Normally this is something to be avoided, for many animals would come at the communication of a druid in this manner, but knowing that they do not wish to approach this area, Liana trusts to the presence to keep them at bay. "What are you? Who are you?" The thought floats, waiting to be answered. Meanwhile, the druid's eyes search the clump of bushes. If only she could see what it was. And why the whimpering? Was it safe to approach? The gods knew she didn't want to . For the moment, her position is maintained.
Just as any telepath's seeking mind would find a wall of pure chaotic darkness as free of the taint of good and evil as any beast's thoughts may be, though probably quite arcane and disturbing, so it was that the mind belonging to the mystery beast would prove as thickly padded the other way -- he'd hear nothing of her enquiries, and only continued his mournful cries and roars while the bushes shook as if possessed, shedding late-falls of red winterberries all over the ground. Then, suddenly, there was silence once more. In the distance, a crow cahh'ed loudly. Then more shivering from the bushes. As if the gods themselves had sensed the druid's probable chagrin as to the ongoing lack of sensible information, the mystery was abruptly and completely solved when up from the thick shrubbery rose the head of a black bear, its snout stained with blood, one great paw waving as though in greeting - though appended to it, clinking and clanking, was what seemed to be a rusty, iron-toothed trap. The bear appeared unaware of Liana's existence, just yet, clearly absorbed in its attempts to chew through the metal, and failing with another loud roar of pain and frustration.
Liana remains still and quiet as the bushes shake, as her gentle question meets with no response and more chaos. What was this thing? Even as she asks the question, the Gods see fit to reveal the answer. In some relief, Liana notes the form of a bear among the bushes. Pity, deep and strong, stirs in her as her eyes fall upon the implement of torture clamped to the poor beast's arm. Close on its heels follows anger. Had she not made it clear to all who walk these green places that humane killing for no other reason than necessity was the only type acceptable and tolerated? She shifts a little, warring with herself. The strongest urge was to approach, to rid the bear of its pain, and yet, there was that mind. This was no ordinary beast. With some trepidation and a further reinforcement to her personal shields, Liana begins to move slowly forward, closing the distance between herself and the bear. She is careful to allow some sound to penetrate the silence now, for she does not wish to come on him by surprise. In a whisper at first, then gradually becoming more audible, Liana begins to speak. The voice is soft, calm, soothing, designed to ensure not only that the bear is aware of her presence, but to communicate, even in some small way, that she did not approach to do him harm. The words are spoken in a genuine wish to help. Whether he would understand them or not was beyond her, but even if he did not, the further noise was what the woman sought. "Be still, be easy. I come. I will remove the teeth of the monster from you. I will make the pain stop, only be still, be easy. I come." Over and over she repeats the mantra, her eyes alternately judging the reaction of the bear, observing her surroundings and calculating likely escape routes, should such an action be necessary. Slowly she moves on.
Svilfon tips his hat as he walks on by.
Lucien remained oblivious to both woman and hat-tipping passers-by, his sole concern in that moment the biting pain of the trap clamped on his hand.. paw... and the problem of how to remove it in light of his current absence of opposable thumbs. But soon enough, that gentle voice broke through his agony, and the shaggy head would turn her way, snout dripping snot and blood, eyes like two inky pools of abject suffering. Perhaps she'd sense the intelligence that lay behind them, even through his mindless pain. But either way, the bear did not rush to attack as she approached, but only squatted back on its large haunches, as tall as the little druid and taller by a head even seated as it was. Not a large bear, as far as bears generally go, but its claws were daggerlike and its teeth were long enough, its mouth wide enough to crush a human head in one chomp as it opened its maw to pant and gurgle another whimper. The paw, trap firmly and horribly in place, was held out toward the druid, dark splots of blood dripping to stain leaves and ground below. Clearly, Lucien-the-bear needed a little help, and was more than happy to accept it.
Liana approaches slowly, her eyes searching, seeking, waiting for an attack which does not come. As the bear hunkers back, Liana moves a little faster, her words still coming, the voice remaining gentle. Inwardly, the woman worried, for the trap looked to be imbedded quite deeply. Would the bear turn on her when the pain increased as she tried to free it? As she closes, her hands reach forth, but rather than grasping the extended trap, they slip underneath to cradle and support the forearm to which the paw is attached. Her eyes meet his, her gaze frank, but unchallenging. It is only then that her words change. "I do not know if you understand all I say." Still the tone is soft, empathetic. "I know you hear some of my words, but listen carefully. I must move your paw to see how the monster bites. I must see where his teeth lie. I will take him from you, but you will feel pain as I pry his jaws apart. It will ache most terribly while I remove him, for he enjoys the taste of your blood and does not wish to come." She watches the other, noting the intelligence and being heartened by it. As she speaks, she gently moves the paw this way and that, bear permitting of course, studying the gruseome trap from all angles. "I make you a promise. Although he wishes to remain with you, I shall not let him, and when his teeth are gone, the pain will get less. You must simply endure a last burst of his torture as I remove him. If you hurt me when the pain comes, I shall not be able to finish. You must not bite, must not tear with your claws. Can you do so?"
Lucien may have, in other circumstances, found Liana's eccentric way of speaking utterly endearing. But right now, his bloody hand .. paw, dammit.. hurt like blazes and he could only drool miserably and drop his heavy head a couple times in what would appear to be a strangely humanoid gesture of understanding and acceptance. Boy, was Lucien glad someone had happened along who wasn't pointing another arrow or spear at his sleek, winter-thick hide. The irony of the hunter becoming the hunted was another thought that would not occur to him until later. For now, he simply allowed the kindly druid to get on with the business of removing the iron 'monster'.. which was indeed clamped hard upon his flesh. From the bushes came more rustling, and Lucien's snout would turn that way, his sides heaving with ragged breath -- of course. The whole reason he was in this mess was still somewhere in that undergrowth. He eyed Liana with a momentary suspicion, but it was only a knee-jerk reaction to the tragic events of the recent past. The ones in which a mother and her babies were slaughtered, for meat and hides. The ones that had left him in unexpected care of a very small, very thin bear cub, which was young enough to regard him as a kind of surrogate mother. Which was awkward in the extreme, sometimes, seeing as the cub was still at suckling-age... The baby bumbled out, its snout red, too - but only with berry-juice - and froze, staring fearfully at Liana, a babyish whine rising to join Luc's latest groan of pain.
Liana continues her study of the trap, relief growing further as, from the corner of her eye, she notes the bear's nod. What was this beast? Or more importantly, who? It had too much intelligence to be simply one of the many bears who roamed the forest. And what was this? A babe? Curious, for the larger of the two was most certainly a male. Liana, although full of questions, stores them for a later point. As the babe's whine rises, Liana's words begin again. "Be easy, little one, I will not harm you, be easy." Still in the same tone, she addresses the bear. "Brace yourself, for the monster shall leave you now." Liana releases her grip on the paw, transferring her hands instead to the horrid, rusted trap that is the cause of such misery. As she begins to exert pressure, teeth bite into the soft flesh of her hands. Releasing the trap too, she reaches for her belt, pulls a thick pair of leather gloves from where they hang there, slips them on and returns to the task at hand. Adjusting her grip, Liana begins, only this time, she does not pull with elven strength. Adept as she is in the use of air, the formation of the two compacted sheets of the stuff which slip around each jaw of the trap are easy. With a spike of released power, Liana uses the air to pull, forcing the jaws of the trap apart. Her hands work in tandem with the element, the living source of the pull working to extricate the teeth as painlessly and cleanly as possible from the angry, wounded flesh. It does not take longer than fifteen seconds, but to the bear, it must seem an eternity. Liana, had she been one of weaker stomach, would have perhaps winced at the gobs of tissue which remained attached to the teeth as they are finally loosed, and the trap cast aside. Yet her main concern at present is for the bear.
Lucien's infant ursine acquaintance backed up hurriedly and was soon hidden again the bushes. The boy-turned-bear watched, half relieved, half-worried. If the little feller took off again... He huffed another deep sigh, which suddenly became a deafening bellow of sheer agony when deft fingers of magically-directed air prised apart the jaws of the trap, taking small portions of him with it, and leaving the resulting wounds open to bleed - and hurt - more freely. The baby forgotten in the moment, Luc snapped his powerful jaws, long teeth bared in a possibly frightening display of pain, before collecting himself and rolling liquid-dark eyes Liana's way in mute apology. Trembling with the effort of remaining upright, his shaggy head swimming with spots as black as his fur, the transformed youth licked at his hand .. paw... and snivelled as only a wounded bear can.
Liana feels a modicum of guilt as the baby disappears, this only compounded and increased as the bear suffers more pain at her hands, whether magical or otherwise. "I am sorry," she says as the roar dies away, and she truly meant it. She allows him to pull his paw from her grasp, watching him closely as he licks at the horrible wounds. Knowing the healing power of saliva, she leaves him to his work for the time being, but shrugs her shoulders, loosing a small black backpack from its purchase there. As it tumbles groundward, Liana reaches out, snags it by a strap and sets it down gently. Bending, she undoes the thong holding it closed, routes around inside and straightens, a small hexagonal glass jar held in her hand. "If you will allow me," she says, holding the jar towards the bear, "I will clean the wound as best I am able. This pot contains an ointment made from the sap of a sacred tree. It heals swiftly and diminishes pain, but you must not lick at it, lest your tongue become numb. Might I apply it?"
Unlike a true bear, Lucien had full understanding of common-speech, even though his transformed throat could not produce corresponding sounds with which he could reply in any like way. So he nodded his large head again, ponderously, and submitted with only a few grumbles and gurgles to the druid's healing ministrations. The ointment was soothing as she applied it, and her skill was such that he hardly felt her touch when she smoothed it into the wounds. Once she was done, he resisted the urge to lick the site - he'd worn this shape a little too long now, perhaps - and lifted his gaze toward the bushes. From his throat came a concerned rumble, and the boy-bear strained his rounded ears for sign of the infant he'd rescued from what was surely its certain death. A high-pitched squeak came in reply, and the baby poked its face out of the bushes which were now almost entirely stripped of berries, its little pink tongue swiping nervously over its wide, dark nose. Satisfied, Luc swung his own snout back Liana's way, snuffling close to her hair so that his nostrils may even inhale a strand or two. A short grunt would have to do for 'thanks'.
Liana does indeed apply the ointment with the lightest of touches. No doubt the bear would feel a soothing, cool, tingling numbness spread over the site. The ointment's strength is not enough to entirely remove the agnoy, but it subdues it to a manageable level. Where other women would have shown fear, Liana reacts only with warmth as the bear's snout comes close to her head. Despite being mindful that one powerful, scissoring bite from those jaws could see her life ended in a blink, Liana gives a genuine smile at the display of gratitude. "I am glad i could be of service to you. I pray you return to me each day so that I might reapply the ointment. Ideally, I would like to dress the wound, but I know that bandages will not last long as you traverse the forest." An inward grin results as she notes how she now speaks to the bear as though he were one that could understand every word she uttered, yet, was he not? It did seem that way, although it could not be so. Curiosity burns, but is set aside for the time being at the appearance of the baby once more. Perhaps a trifle uneasily, the druid pushes her thoughts towards the youngster, half expecting to find the same well of darkness in its mind as she had in the parent's, and yet instinct demanded that she reassure the cub if at all possible. Rather than words, she projects images and feelings to him; the warmth and closeness of a mother, warm milk readily available, contentment, peace. Even as she does this, she addresses the elder. "I have given word in these woods that no monsters be allowed to lie in wait for those such as yourself, and yet, I find that I have not been obeyed. Gods but i wish you could tell me who did this, for i would see to it that they never did again. The least I can do is see to your wounds and begin my own search for the culprit, for believe me, if I am able to find them, they will be most harshly punished. And what of the cub? Where is its mother? It looks young enough to still need the nourishment her milk gives, and yet, I see her not. It intrigues me that you appear to care for the youngster. Many males of your species injure young rather than sustaining them. Gods but I wish you had a way of communicating." Knowing how ludicrous the last sounds, the woman falls silent, her mental projections still continuing.
Lucien felt, among his various other pains, a pang of guilt when the baby trundled trustingly toward him. But caring for the youngster was not only impractical in his current shape, it was nigh on impossible - not only had he not the proper means to give it the milk it still needed, but ongoing contact with the little animal would only ensure he wore his bear-skin for many more hours. And while having claws and teeth like knives had its appeal, his human mind was slowly becoming foggy, in subtle ways, and instinct was gradually taking the place of reason - demonstrated in the way he lapped at his wounds, an unconscious act he was quick to regret when his tongue sagged loose of his mouth like a wet, pink sock moments later. Well, it wasn't as if Liana hadn't warned him... Snuffling, with the increase of drool snorted out to spot the druid's garb, he bent to give the cub a none-too-gentle nudge with his broad nose, sending the infant mewling and tumbling ungracefully head-over-heel towards the woman. At least she had hands, with thumbs, and probably wasn't inclined to shape-shift uncontrollably as he was doing of late, so Luc figured it best she take the baby home for now. Maybe the cub would've run back to him, were it not for those comforting, tempting thoughts wafting from her mind - milk, warmth, motherly things any orphaned baby might crave. Blinking gently, confused, it stood still a moment, staring at Lucien, who smelled a lot more like a mother bear... but eventually, milk would win the simple argument and the little animal trundled to Liana, bumping against her leg as if to demand the promised foodstuffs. Meanwhile, Lucien pondered her words.. daily? If bears could frown, he would have. As it was, his fur wrinkled slightly and his upper lip pulled away from one frighteningly long eye tooth. Daily? Luc sighed. He'd manage it somehow. As for the woman's questions, those would just have to wait until his return to regular form. Which would be... Another sigh. Some time. Soon, he hoped.
Liana watches in amusement as the bear begins once more to lick his wounds, but knowing the lesson needed to be learned, she does not stop him. Only her strong experience that animals did not take kindly to being laughed at, even when they called the laugher friend, saves her from giving tongue to a peal of mirth as his tongue lolls. "I did tell you," she says, unable to keep the twinkle from her eye as she does so. "Never fear. It will ease in a moment or two, and I did apply extra this first time, as I suspected you would do just what you have done." She makes no move to step away as spit flecks her clothes, but merely lifts a hand to clear a smear of the stuff from her left cheek. It is then that the cub bumps into her legs, and at the same instant, his thought, his need, his hunger and thirst reach her. Bending swiftly, she scoops him from the ground, cradling the body close in her arms to offer him the warmth she had promised. Milk would come soon, and she told him so. If he would go, she had a mother bear who was giving suck to another cub, and if not, she would find a means of feeding him. She had done so before. Trust, the type only given by the very young, rises to meet her mind and she smiles, the expression quickly tempered as the bear's wrinkling face is noted. "Is this a problem? Cannot you return each day? Is it that you are worried? You do not think you can hunt enough to sustain yourself with that injury? If so, I can take you with me. I am happy to kill for you until you are able to continue yourself. The ointment really does need applying each day for maximum effect." She falls silent as the cub whimpers.
Lucien thought about it for a long moment, watching the hungry little bear cub wriggle feebly in Liana's arms. Then his thick furry neck twisted from side to side, and his slack tongue lolled like a surreal and meaty pendulum when he shook his head, hoping she understood. He'd do his best to explain things as soon as he could. If he ever got his shape back. And use of his tongue. And if he could find her again... He supposed he'd just come back here tomorrow and hope she was thinking the same way. A final grunt signalled his further thanks, and then the boy-bear drew his huge frame up onto his hind legs - a most uncomfortable way for a bear to travel, but the only one available to him, unless he wanted further pain and dirt in his injured paw ... hand... whatever. He'd shamble off, then, giving her only one look behind with intelligent, black eyes, before disappearing into the trees, and the depths of the forest.
Liana watches the bear go, concern evident in her eyes. Would he survive? Would he return? She knew not. She would just have to come back here tomorrow and hope that he was thinking likewise. The cub in her arms gives a pitiful cry, staring after the mother figure abandoning it. Liana strengthens her projections, holding the little body closer as she stands. The baby needed feeding, and she had another bear to find. Stooping to retrieve the trap in hopes that it would reveal a mark of its maker upon closer examination, she turns, beginning her own trek back into the forest and towards home.
Liana moves as silently as she can through the forest. The wood elf, as attuned to the woods as anyone who walked among their shadows, is drawn inexplicably by the lack of life, the absence of activity in this one small part. Wariness prevails as she draws closer, her steps slowing, each foot placed with infinite care so that neither a rustle nor the crack of a dead branch gives rise to her location. Dressed in a light leather tunic and well-fitted leggings, the woman camouflages nicely with the surroundings. Eyes, blue-grey in colour and piercing in gaze, scan the trees, bushes and undergrowth around her, searching for the source of the disturbance. even a large, predatory animal did not cause this cessation, so where was the reason? Shielding as she waits, she remains still, watching, waiting.
Nearby, a thick screen of wild berry-shrubs shook violently and from somewhere beyond it came a roar. Not the hoarse and possibly goofy kind of roar which might be made by a human-like boy in his late teens - oh no, this was an loud and bestial roar, fit to fill a body's boots with shuddering.
Liana experiences a tiny moment of unease as the roar shatters the unnatural silence of the forest. Her eyes dart to the bushes which appear to be alive, or was it something within them that lived? Tightening her shields, the druid shifts slightly to ensure that she is upwind of whatever lurked nearby, yet still had a clear line of sight to the shaking plantlife. Gingerly, and with a feather-light touch, she allows her awareness to quest towards it. What was it? A simple, slight touch of thought would clarify.
The roar would be followed by a decidedly less impressive - if still somewhat rumbly - whimper, and the bushes once more madly shivered though the cause of the animalistic sounds was not yet apparent. And to Liana the mystery might only deepen further, when tendrils of mind were sent to quest for answers and would find... Well, not anything anyone would expect. If Liana had any doubt remaining that it was no natural beast who bellowed so, her telepathic enquiry would put an a sudden end to it -- for what she'd meet was darkness, a pure and inky blackness that transcended night as the sun's brilliant rays transcend the feeble glow of a tallow candle. Nothingness, an abyss, deep and profound... and whatever her reaction to that second unnatural absence may be, it would be interrupted with another whimper, this one higher-pitched and quite a bit more... well, pathetic.
Liana draws her mind back sharply as it finds that nothingness, that lack of anything. She had felt that once before, or something similar. Unbidden, an image of her dead husband rears in her mind, the recall perfect, the sense of him invading until, with an effort, she forces the recollection away, back into the box of memory to be explored at another time. What in the name of the Gods was she dealing with here? Again the mind ventures forward, although this time with extreme caution. Rather than touching directly the nothingness, Liana simply projects a general question. Normally this is something to be avoided, for many animals would come at the communication of a druid in this manner, but knowing that they do not wish to approach this area, Liana trusts to the presence to keep them at bay. "What are you? Who are you?" The thought floats, waiting to be answered. Meanwhile, the druid's eyes search the clump of bushes. If only she could see what it was. And why the whimpering? Was it safe to approach? The gods knew she didn't want to . For the moment, her position is maintained.
Just as any telepath's seeking mind would find a wall of pure chaotic darkness as free of the taint of good and evil as any beast's thoughts may be, though probably quite arcane and disturbing, so it was that the mind belonging to the mystery beast would prove as thickly padded the other way -- he'd hear nothing of her enquiries, and only continued his mournful cries and roars while the bushes shook as if possessed, shedding late-falls of red winterberries all over the ground. Then, suddenly, there was silence once more. In the distance, a crow cahh'ed loudly. Then more shivering from the bushes. As if the gods themselves had sensed the druid's probable chagrin as to the ongoing lack of sensible information, the mystery was abruptly and completely solved when up from the thick shrubbery rose the head of a black bear, its snout stained with blood, one great paw waving as though in greeting - though appended to it, clinking and clanking, was what seemed to be a rusty, iron-toothed trap. The bear appeared unaware of Liana's existence, just yet, clearly absorbed in its attempts to chew through the metal, and failing with another loud roar of pain and frustration.
Liana remains still and quiet as the bushes shake, as her gentle question meets with no response and more chaos. What was this thing? Even as she asks the question, the Gods see fit to reveal the answer. In some relief, Liana notes the form of a bear among the bushes. Pity, deep and strong, stirs in her as her eyes fall upon the implement of torture clamped to the poor beast's arm. Close on its heels follows anger. Had she not made it clear to all who walk these green places that humane killing for no other reason than necessity was the only type acceptable and tolerated? She shifts a little, warring with herself. The strongest urge was to approach, to rid the bear of its pain, and yet, there was that mind. This was no ordinary beast. With some trepidation and a further reinforcement to her personal shields, Liana begins to move slowly forward, closing the distance between herself and the bear. She is careful to allow some sound to penetrate the silence now, for she does not wish to come on him by surprise. In a whisper at first, then gradually becoming more audible, Liana begins to speak. The voice is soft, calm, soothing, designed to ensure not only that the bear is aware of her presence, but to communicate, even in some small way, that she did not approach to do him harm. The words are spoken in a genuine wish to help. Whether he would understand them or not was beyond her, but even if he did not, the further noise was what the woman sought. "Be still, be easy. I come. I will remove the teeth of the monster from you. I will make the pain stop, only be still, be easy. I come." Over and over she repeats the mantra, her eyes alternately judging the reaction of the bear, observing her surroundings and calculating likely escape routes, should such an action be necessary. Slowly she moves on.
Svilfon tips his hat as he walks on by.
Lucien remained oblivious to both woman and hat-tipping passers-by, his sole concern in that moment the biting pain of the trap clamped on his hand.. paw... and the problem of how to remove it in light of his current absence of opposable thumbs. But soon enough, that gentle voice broke through his agony, and the shaggy head would turn her way, snout dripping snot and blood, eyes like two inky pools of abject suffering. Perhaps she'd sense the intelligence that lay behind them, even through his mindless pain. But either way, the bear did not rush to attack as she approached, but only squatted back on its large haunches, as tall as the little druid and taller by a head even seated as it was. Not a large bear, as far as bears generally go, but its claws were daggerlike and its teeth were long enough, its mouth wide enough to crush a human head in one chomp as it opened its maw to pant and gurgle another whimper. The paw, trap firmly and horribly in place, was held out toward the druid, dark splots of blood dripping to stain leaves and ground below. Clearly, Lucien-the-bear needed a little help, and was more than happy to accept it.
Liana approaches slowly, her eyes searching, seeking, waiting for an attack which does not come. As the bear hunkers back, Liana moves a little faster, her words still coming, the voice remaining gentle. Inwardly, the woman worried, for the trap looked to be imbedded quite deeply. Would the bear turn on her when the pain increased as she tried to free it? As she closes, her hands reach forth, but rather than grasping the extended trap, they slip underneath to cradle and support the forearm to which the paw is attached. Her eyes meet his, her gaze frank, but unchallenging. It is only then that her words change. "I do not know if you understand all I say." Still the tone is soft, empathetic. "I know you hear some of my words, but listen carefully. I must move your paw to see how the monster bites. I must see where his teeth lie. I will take him from you, but you will feel pain as I pry his jaws apart. It will ache most terribly while I remove him, for he enjoys the taste of your blood and does not wish to come." She watches the other, noting the intelligence and being heartened by it. As she speaks, she gently moves the paw this way and that, bear permitting of course, studying the gruseome trap from all angles. "I make you a promise. Although he wishes to remain with you, I shall not let him, and when his teeth are gone, the pain will get less. You must simply endure a last burst of his torture as I remove him. If you hurt me when the pain comes, I shall not be able to finish. You must not bite, must not tear with your claws. Can you do so?"
Lucien may have, in other circumstances, found Liana's eccentric way of speaking utterly endearing. But right now, his bloody hand .. paw, dammit.. hurt like blazes and he could only drool miserably and drop his heavy head a couple times in what would appear to be a strangely humanoid gesture of understanding and acceptance. Boy, was Lucien glad someone had happened along who wasn't pointing another arrow or spear at his sleek, winter-thick hide. The irony of the hunter becoming the hunted was another thought that would not occur to him until later. For now, he simply allowed the kindly druid to get on with the business of removing the iron 'monster'.. which was indeed clamped hard upon his flesh. From the bushes came more rustling, and Lucien's snout would turn that way, his sides heaving with ragged breath -- of course. The whole reason he was in this mess was still somewhere in that undergrowth. He eyed Liana with a momentary suspicion, but it was only a knee-jerk reaction to the tragic events of the recent past. The ones in which a mother and her babies were slaughtered, for meat and hides. The ones that had left him in unexpected care of a very small, very thin bear cub, which was young enough to regard him as a kind of surrogate mother. Which was awkward in the extreme, sometimes, seeing as the cub was still at suckling-age... The baby bumbled out, its snout red, too - but only with berry-juice - and froze, staring fearfully at Liana, a babyish whine rising to join Luc's latest groan of pain.
Liana continues her study of the trap, relief growing further as, from the corner of her eye, she notes the bear's nod. What was this beast? Or more importantly, who? It had too much intelligence to be simply one of the many bears who roamed the forest. And what was this? A babe? Curious, for the larger of the two was most certainly a male. Liana, although full of questions, stores them for a later point. As the babe's whine rises, Liana's words begin again. "Be easy, little one, I will not harm you, be easy." Still in the same tone, she addresses the bear. "Brace yourself, for the monster shall leave you now." Liana releases her grip on the paw, transferring her hands instead to the horrid, rusted trap that is the cause of such misery. As she begins to exert pressure, teeth bite into the soft flesh of her hands. Releasing the trap too, she reaches for her belt, pulls a thick pair of leather gloves from where they hang there, slips them on and returns to the task at hand. Adjusting her grip, Liana begins, only this time, she does not pull with elven strength. Adept as she is in the use of air, the formation of the two compacted sheets of the stuff which slip around each jaw of the trap are easy. With a spike of released power, Liana uses the air to pull, forcing the jaws of the trap apart. Her hands work in tandem with the element, the living source of the pull working to extricate the teeth as painlessly and cleanly as possible from the angry, wounded flesh. It does not take longer than fifteen seconds, but to the bear, it must seem an eternity. Liana, had she been one of weaker stomach, would have perhaps winced at the gobs of tissue which remained attached to the teeth as they are finally loosed, and the trap cast aside. Yet her main concern at present is for the bear.
Lucien's infant ursine acquaintance backed up hurriedly and was soon hidden again the bushes. The boy-turned-bear watched, half relieved, half-worried. If the little feller took off again... He huffed another deep sigh, which suddenly became a deafening bellow of sheer agony when deft fingers of magically-directed air prised apart the jaws of the trap, taking small portions of him with it, and leaving the resulting wounds open to bleed - and hurt - more freely. The baby forgotten in the moment, Luc snapped his powerful jaws, long teeth bared in a possibly frightening display of pain, before collecting himself and rolling liquid-dark eyes Liana's way in mute apology. Trembling with the effort of remaining upright, his shaggy head swimming with spots as black as his fur, the transformed youth licked at his hand .. paw... and snivelled as only a wounded bear can.
Liana feels a modicum of guilt as the baby disappears, this only compounded and increased as the bear suffers more pain at her hands, whether magical or otherwise. "I am sorry," she says as the roar dies away, and she truly meant it. She allows him to pull his paw from her grasp, watching him closely as he licks at the horrible wounds. Knowing the healing power of saliva, she leaves him to his work for the time being, but shrugs her shoulders, loosing a small black backpack from its purchase there. As it tumbles groundward, Liana reaches out, snags it by a strap and sets it down gently. Bending, she undoes the thong holding it closed, routes around inside and straightens, a small hexagonal glass jar held in her hand. "If you will allow me," she says, holding the jar towards the bear, "I will clean the wound as best I am able. This pot contains an ointment made from the sap of a sacred tree. It heals swiftly and diminishes pain, but you must not lick at it, lest your tongue become numb. Might I apply it?"
Unlike a true bear, Lucien had full understanding of common-speech, even though his transformed throat could not produce corresponding sounds with which he could reply in any like way. So he nodded his large head again, ponderously, and submitted with only a few grumbles and gurgles to the druid's healing ministrations. The ointment was soothing as she applied it, and her skill was such that he hardly felt her touch when she smoothed it into the wounds. Once she was done, he resisted the urge to lick the site - he'd worn this shape a little too long now, perhaps - and lifted his gaze toward the bushes. From his throat came a concerned rumble, and the boy-bear strained his rounded ears for sign of the infant he'd rescued from what was surely its certain death. A high-pitched squeak came in reply, and the baby poked its face out of the bushes which were now almost entirely stripped of berries, its little pink tongue swiping nervously over its wide, dark nose. Satisfied, Luc swung his own snout back Liana's way, snuffling close to her hair so that his nostrils may even inhale a strand or two. A short grunt would have to do for 'thanks'.
Liana does indeed apply the ointment with the lightest of touches. No doubt the bear would feel a soothing, cool, tingling numbness spread over the site. The ointment's strength is not enough to entirely remove the agnoy, but it subdues it to a manageable level. Where other women would have shown fear, Liana reacts only with warmth as the bear's snout comes close to her head. Despite being mindful that one powerful, scissoring bite from those jaws could see her life ended in a blink, Liana gives a genuine smile at the display of gratitude. "I am glad i could be of service to you. I pray you return to me each day so that I might reapply the ointment. Ideally, I would like to dress the wound, but I know that bandages will not last long as you traverse the forest." An inward grin results as she notes how she now speaks to the bear as though he were one that could understand every word she uttered, yet, was he not? It did seem that way, although it could not be so. Curiosity burns, but is set aside for the time being at the appearance of the baby once more. Perhaps a trifle uneasily, the druid pushes her thoughts towards the youngster, half expecting to find the same well of darkness in its mind as she had in the parent's, and yet instinct demanded that she reassure the cub if at all possible. Rather than words, she projects images and feelings to him; the warmth and closeness of a mother, warm milk readily available, contentment, peace. Even as she does this, she addresses the elder. "I have given word in these woods that no monsters be allowed to lie in wait for those such as yourself, and yet, I find that I have not been obeyed. Gods but i wish you could tell me who did this, for i would see to it that they never did again. The least I can do is see to your wounds and begin my own search for the culprit, for believe me, if I am able to find them, they will be most harshly punished. And what of the cub? Where is its mother? It looks young enough to still need the nourishment her milk gives, and yet, I see her not. It intrigues me that you appear to care for the youngster. Many males of your species injure young rather than sustaining them. Gods but I wish you had a way of communicating." Knowing how ludicrous the last sounds, the woman falls silent, her mental projections still continuing.
Lucien felt, among his various other pains, a pang of guilt when the baby trundled trustingly toward him. But caring for the youngster was not only impractical in his current shape, it was nigh on impossible - not only had he not the proper means to give it the milk it still needed, but ongoing contact with the little animal would only ensure he wore his bear-skin for many more hours. And while having claws and teeth like knives had its appeal, his human mind was slowly becoming foggy, in subtle ways, and instinct was gradually taking the place of reason - demonstrated in the way he lapped at his wounds, an unconscious act he was quick to regret when his tongue sagged loose of his mouth like a wet, pink sock moments later. Well, it wasn't as if Liana hadn't warned him... Snuffling, with the increase of drool snorted out to spot the druid's garb, he bent to give the cub a none-too-gentle nudge with his broad nose, sending the infant mewling and tumbling ungracefully head-over-heel towards the woman. At least she had hands, with thumbs, and probably wasn't inclined to shape-shift uncontrollably as he was doing of late, so Luc figured it best she take the baby home for now. Maybe the cub would've run back to him, were it not for those comforting, tempting thoughts wafting from her mind - milk, warmth, motherly things any orphaned baby might crave. Blinking gently, confused, it stood still a moment, staring at Lucien, who smelled a lot more like a mother bear... but eventually, milk would win the simple argument and the little animal trundled to Liana, bumping against her leg as if to demand the promised foodstuffs. Meanwhile, Lucien pondered her words.. daily? If bears could frown, he would have. As it was, his fur wrinkled slightly and his upper lip pulled away from one frighteningly long eye tooth. Daily? Luc sighed. He'd manage it somehow. As for the woman's questions, those would just have to wait until his return to regular form. Which would be... Another sigh. Some time. Soon, he hoped.
Liana watches in amusement as the bear begins once more to lick his wounds, but knowing the lesson needed to be learned, she does not stop him. Only her strong experience that animals did not take kindly to being laughed at, even when they called the laugher friend, saves her from giving tongue to a peal of mirth as his tongue lolls. "I did tell you," she says, unable to keep the twinkle from her eye as she does so. "Never fear. It will ease in a moment or two, and I did apply extra this first time, as I suspected you would do just what you have done." She makes no move to step away as spit flecks her clothes, but merely lifts a hand to clear a smear of the stuff from her left cheek. It is then that the cub bumps into her legs, and at the same instant, his thought, his need, his hunger and thirst reach her. Bending swiftly, she scoops him from the ground, cradling the body close in her arms to offer him the warmth she had promised. Milk would come soon, and she told him so. If he would go, she had a mother bear who was giving suck to another cub, and if not, she would find a means of feeding him. She had done so before. Trust, the type only given by the very young, rises to meet her mind and she smiles, the expression quickly tempered as the bear's wrinkling face is noted. "Is this a problem? Cannot you return each day? Is it that you are worried? You do not think you can hunt enough to sustain yourself with that injury? If so, I can take you with me. I am happy to kill for you until you are able to continue yourself. The ointment really does need applying each day for maximum effect." She falls silent as the cub whimpers.
Lucien thought about it for a long moment, watching the hungry little bear cub wriggle feebly in Liana's arms. Then his thick furry neck twisted from side to side, and his slack tongue lolled like a surreal and meaty pendulum when he shook his head, hoping she understood. He'd do his best to explain things as soon as he could. If he ever got his shape back. And use of his tongue. And if he could find her again... He supposed he'd just come back here tomorrow and hope she was thinking the same way. A final grunt signalled his further thanks, and then the boy-bear drew his huge frame up onto his hind legs - a most uncomfortable way for a bear to travel, but the only one available to him, unless he wanted further pain and dirt in his injured paw ... hand... whatever. He'd shamble off, then, giving her only one look behind with intelligent, black eyes, before disappearing into the trees, and the depths of the forest.
Liana watches the bear go, concern evident in her eyes. Would he survive? Would he return? She knew not. She would just have to come back here tomorrow and hope that he was thinking likewise. The cub in her arms gives a pitiful cry, staring after the mother figure abandoning it. Liana strengthens her projections, holding the little body closer as she stands. The baby needed feeding, and she had another bear to find. Stooping to retrieve the trap in hopes that it would reveal a mark of its maker upon closer examination, she turns, beginning her own trek back into the forest and towards home.