woodmen

Being in so much pain except when she was willing to admit the need for the salve was probably not a good thing. Fang was definitely letting her know that he didn't think she was being sensible. But she hated seeing the reaction on her wife's face and in her body language about how its numbing effect felt on her hands.

((Taken from Role-Play))

Aelfrida carries the dishes slowly and carefully into the cookery, a very stern look on her face as she concentrates on not dropping them. There is some shuffling in the cookery, then a loud splashing of water and slight crashing sound. She calls out, "I'm all right!"
 

Jessandra shakes her head and moves toward the kitchen. "Washing up is one of the few things in a kitchen I'm not hopeless at. I'll help."
 

The recovering scout entered her hut, having had to relieve herself again. She'd stayed out in the clear morning as long as she reasonably could without chilling herself too badly, but that wasn't all that long. Not when all she could put on for herself of the things she had to wear were her boots. At least, not without removing the sling and risking further damage to her shoulder.

At spear training, Heriwulf had talked about the deep, steady breathing that helps a warrior maintain both the body and the mind. How you breathe is one of the easiest things to learn, and the hardest things to keep up in the heat of the moment, and most important things that made a good warrior a great one, though no one knew it. You need both air and calm to survive the challenges; and steady, deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, give both.

Scarlet Jay rushed up from the birthing shed, which was now more of a puppies' play-pen, with the remains of near-mortal embarrassment only now leaving her appearance, with her complexion finally no longer out-shining her russet locks. She dashed her way up the small rise to what was left of the healers' tent – by now, mostly a fabric roof on poles and the marks of where pallets had been, plus a few shelves for supplies.

Making her way back to her work-site at the trapping company's camp was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. It took her through the field that was still being cleared of orcs and piled up for burning, and past the feasting ravens. At least there wasn't that much sign left of what her traps themselves had wrought, even though the plan worked well, and it had only been the enemy that got hurt.

The tiny bed in Heriwulf's tiny room was actually full to and beyond its limits, but felt, somehow, empty. Three hounds, any of which could stretch to fill the whole bed, shared it with him. Brunan, the matriarch of the pack, now getting a bit of grey in her dark fur; Hundr, the youngest (at least until Brunan's last litter) and most playful of the pack; and Niht, the implacable and tireless husky. Most nights, one of the three might sleep at the foot of the bed, while the others stayed outside, with the pups, or helping to patrol the stockade; they never shared the bed.

((continued from part 1))

The battle mostly concluded, some of the Woodmen tend their hurt and mourn their fallen, while others pick off stragglers.

((Due to scheduling constraints, the battle itself was played in just under two hours, so it is quick-paced and some parts are done in broad strokes.))