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Toller and the wounded yellowbuck
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Toller shook her head. One of the yellowbucks was limping, and badly. He was the one that Whipcoil had set to the selkie-blood, and if he went down the selkie-blood might stop out of pure contrariness. She had to have him checked, by someone who at least half knew what they were doing, before it was too late. If it could be fixed and left to heal, it would be best to do now, instead of the morning. That way the yellowbuck might at least get a night's rest to recover, instead of having to tramp on bad feet in the morning.
She trotted back to where Magpie was pushing in the stolen livestock for the night. Someone had to eat trail-dust, and Magpie preferred to do that herself, rather than let novitiates get up to mischief. Snapdragon was perfectly capable of leading them home or selecting a night-camp on the Great Road, being as he had a good sense of direction even in the shifting places and tended to set an easy ambling pace for the feral yellowbucks.
"One of the yellowbucks is limping. I think he's walked his feet to pieces."
Magpie shrugged from on top of her trail-pony. "So?"
Toller frowned. She might love being Magpie's Dog, but running herd on yellowbucks was easier than running herd on an aughisky of rank. The yellowbucks were unlikely to fight her for food, at least once she went for her pistols; Magpie didn't always remember that Toller wasn't trying to challenge her when she carved meat off a roast, she was just hungry.
"You want a feral buck to rot from his ankles up? Kind of a waste to drag him along in the first place, then. And we will be short on Brewster's tribute."
"I'd rather short the Brewster than the Stormbringer."
"Stormbringer won't care about a short count," Toller argued, "as long as that selkie-blood is still alive at the end of it. Brewster will care about a short count, because you're not going to give the selkie-blood to her. We need to have a full measure for her."
Magpie sighed and rolled her eyes. "Iros," she called to rawboned Rider at the edge of the herd, "why don't you trot up with Toller here and check on this yellowbuck.
Iros, so ridiculously long in his bones that half the Riders called him 'Longshanks' instead of his real tag, nodded affably and broke off from shoving cattle. He walked his pony over to Toller, and offered her a hand up.
Toller shivered. "No, thanks. I'll leg it back," and she turned away to trot down to the campsite.
"You don't like ponies," the aughisky laughed. "How does that work, with you being Magpie's Dog?"
"I can ride if I have to." Toller said. "But I'm not riding pillion behind someone as young as you. You might go all spooky and savage me."
Iros snorted. "I'm not a novitiate, Toller Dog. I'm new to the slew because I like to wander by myself."
"And how is that not young?"
"Oh, it is young, but I'm not. I haven't been a Wilder in five years, and I broke easy. You don't have to worry. I won't bite you unless you ask."
Toller snorted herself at that. An aughisky that wanted to flirt was the last thing she was interested in. "I am Magpie's Dog, you do know that."
"And she doesn't share." Iros shrugged his sharp-boned shoulders. "She won't savage me for flirting with you if she doesn't see me flirting..."
"Think that much of yourself, do you?"
Iros grinned, wide-toothed and sunny. "I just like to flirt."
Maybe this Rider was a good choice to tend the yellowbuck. If he was as easy-tempered as he appeared, even if he was as young as he appeared, he'd be able to deal with the ferals without snapping his teeth at one of them, let alone inflict damage.
They came together into the milling camp, and found the yellowbuck Toller had spotted earlier, curled on a blanket before a small fire as the selkie-blood tried to soothe him. Two little ragamuffins watched beside them.
The yellowbuck was yellow indeed, as tawny as a black-mouthed cur, and watched her and the aughisky, with dull, disturbing eyes. Toller had to remind herself that often yellowbucks had pale eyes and it didn't actually indicate blindness, no matter how spooky it looked. He was shivering a bit, which couldn't be a good sign.
The selkie-blood stood up as they approached.
"The yellowbuck was limping, Sealchild," Toller said, just remembering what the selkie-blood had been tagged with. It was an unimaginative name, which meant it was probably Magpie's tag; she was positively dull when she named things. "I brought this Rider to look at him."
The selkie-blood just stared at her, and didn't say anything.
Iros piped up then, "I'm Iros Longshanks, and I don't bite much. What's he called?"
"Turnspit. He said the riders called him Turnspit, that first night."
Iros nodded, and gave another sunny smile. Toller didn't think this particular one was very reassuring; it rather looked like Iros might stretch his jaws wide and snap off someone's hand when he smiled in just that way.
The rider knelt down and started to check the shivering yellowbuck.
"Damn..."
"What it is?"
"Blood, smell it?" Iros frowned. "Help me get his boots off."
Toller crouched down, and made a face. She could certainly smell the blood now. It was work to pull the boots off the yellowbuck, and even with the selkie-blood soothing his friend, Turnspit cried out and tried to draw away.
When Iros finally got the first boot off, Toller was appalled at the scum of blood and pus that coated Turnspit's foot.
"His foot is swollen, burst blisters," Iros frowned, "How's the other one, Toller?"
Toller gave a hard tug, and the other boot slid off, accompanied by a weak cry from the yellowbuck, which Sealchild hushed. "Just as bad..."
"Damn." Iros turned to one of the little ragamuffins. "Go fetch water, infant. Take a bucket from the campfire if you must, and if any of the tame bucks challenge you, tell them Iros Longshanks wants it and you're doing it. Off you go."
"What will you do to him?" Sealchild asked.
"Wash and wrap his feet, and dose him to keep the rot away. Toller, can you clear space on the baggage for him?"
Toller shook her head. "No, too many bitties and pregnant mares, Iros. Summerglade is in charge of the baggage, and she won't spare space for a yellowbuck, even if there was any. Adult males always walk."
Iros clucked his tongue, and then growled softly. "This yellowbuck can't walk. What isn't blisters is burst. His feet really will rot off if he has to walk. These boots are all wrong for it, and have rubbed him raw."
"Could he ride?" the selkie-blood asked softly.
Toller blinked, and then shook her head. Valueable as he was, she'd forgotten that Sealchild didn't know anything -- barely enough to duck his head and be wary of aughisky. "No, the slew would turn on him, if he got on a horse. No one rides among the aughisky that isn't aughisky."
"Or is riding with an aughisky," Iros said. "He could ride behind me, if I got my big remount. She's boring, but she's strong and has a good smooth foxtrot."
next
Toller shook her head. One of the yellowbucks was limping, and badly. He was the one that Whipcoil had set to the selkie-blood, and if he went down the selkie-blood might stop out of pure contrariness. She had to have him checked, by someone who at least half knew what they were doing, before it was too late. If it could be fixed and left to heal, it would be best to do now, instead of the morning. That way the yellowbuck might at least get a night's rest to recover, instead of having to tramp on bad feet in the morning.
She trotted back to where Magpie was pushing in the stolen livestock for the night. Someone had to eat trail-dust, and Magpie preferred to do that herself, rather than let novitiates get up to mischief. Snapdragon was perfectly capable of leading them home or selecting a night-camp on the Great Road, being as he had a good sense of direction even in the shifting places and tended to set an easy ambling pace for the feral yellowbucks.
"One of the yellowbucks is limping. I think he's walked his feet to pieces."
Magpie shrugged from on top of her trail-pony. "So?"
Toller frowned. She might love being Magpie's Dog, but running herd on yellowbucks was easier than running herd on an aughisky of rank. The yellowbucks were unlikely to fight her for food, at least once she went for her pistols; Magpie didn't always remember that Toller wasn't trying to challenge her when she carved meat off a roast, she was just hungry.
"You want a feral buck to rot from his ankles up? Kind of a waste to drag him along in the first place, then. And we will be short on Brewster's tribute."
"I'd rather short the Brewster than the Stormbringer."
"Stormbringer won't care about a short count," Toller argued, "as long as that selkie-blood is still alive at the end of it. Brewster will care about a short count, because you're not going to give the selkie-blood to her. We need to have a full measure for her."
Magpie sighed and rolled her eyes. "Iros," she called to rawboned Rider at the edge of the herd, "why don't you trot up with Toller here and check on this yellowbuck.
Iros, so ridiculously long in his bones that half the Riders called him 'Longshanks' instead of his real tag, nodded affably and broke off from shoving cattle. He walked his pony over to Toller, and offered her a hand up.
Toller shivered. "No, thanks. I'll leg it back," and she turned away to trot down to the campsite.
"You don't like ponies," the aughisky laughed. "How does that work, with you being Magpie's Dog?"
"I can ride if I have to." Toller said. "But I'm not riding pillion behind someone as young as you. You might go all spooky and savage me."
Iros snorted. "I'm not a novitiate, Toller Dog. I'm new to the slew because I like to wander by myself."
"And how is that not young?"
"Oh, it is young, but I'm not. I haven't been a Wilder in five years, and I broke easy. You don't have to worry. I won't bite you unless you ask."
Toller snorted herself at that. An aughisky that wanted to flirt was the last thing she was interested in. "I am Magpie's Dog, you do know that."
"And she doesn't share." Iros shrugged his sharp-boned shoulders. "She won't savage me for flirting with you if she doesn't see me flirting..."
"Think that much of yourself, do you?"
Iros grinned, wide-toothed and sunny. "I just like to flirt."
Maybe this Rider was a good choice to tend the yellowbuck. If he was as easy-tempered as he appeared, even if he was as young as he appeared, he'd be able to deal with the ferals without snapping his teeth at one of them, let alone inflict damage.
They came together into the milling camp, and found the yellowbuck Toller had spotted earlier, curled on a blanket before a small fire as the selkie-blood tried to soothe him. Two little ragamuffins watched beside them.
The yellowbuck was yellow indeed, as tawny as a black-mouthed cur, and watched her and the aughisky, with dull, disturbing eyes. Toller had to remind herself that often yellowbucks had pale eyes and it didn't actually indicate blindness, no matter how spooky it looked. He was shivering a bit, which couldn't be a good sign.
The selkie-blood stood up as they approached.
"The yellowbuck was limping, Sealchild," Toller said, just remembering what the selkie-blood had been tagged with. It was an unimaginative name, which meant it was probably Magpie's tag; she was positively dull when she named things. "I brought this Rider to look at him."
The selkie-blood just stared at her, and didn't say anything.
Iros piped up then, "I'm Iros Longshanks, and I don't bite much. What's he called?"
"Turnspit. He said the riders called him Turnspit, that first night."
Iros nodded, and gave another sunny smile. Toller didn't think this particular one was very reassuring; it rather looked like Iros might stretch his jaws wide and snap off someone's hand when he smiled in just that way.
The rider knelt down and started to check the shivering yellowbuck.
"Damn..."
"What it is?"
"Blood, smell it?" Iros frowned. "Help me get his boots off."
Toller crouched down, and made a face. She could certainly smell the blood now. It was work to pull the boots off the yellowbuck, and even with the selkie-blood soothing his friend, Turnspit cried out and tried to draw away.
When Iros finally got the first boot off, Toller was appalled at the scum of blood and pus that coated Turnspit's foot.
"His foot is swollen, burst blisters," Iros frowned, "How's the other one, Toller?"
Toller gave a hard tug, and the other boot slid off, accompanied by a weak cry from the yellowbuck, which Sealchild hushed. "Just as bad..."
"Damn." Iros turned to one of the little ragamuffins. "Go fetch water, infant. Take a bucket from the campfire if you must, and if any of the tame bucks challenge you, tell them Iros Longshanks wants it and you're doing it. Off you go."
"What will you do to him?" Sealchild asked.
"Wash and wrap his feet, and dose him to keep the rot away. Toller, can you clear space on the baggage for him?"
Toller shook her head. "No, too many bitties and pregnant mares, Iros. Summerglade is in charge of the baggage, and she won't spare space for a yellowbuck, even if there was any. Adult males always walk."
Iros clucked his tongue, and then growled softly. "This yellowbuck can't walk. What isn't blisters is burst. His feet really will rot off if he has to walk. These boots are all wrong for it, and have rubbed him raw."
"Could he ride?" the selkie-blood asked softly.
Toller blinked, and then shook her head. Valueable as he was, she'd forgotten that Sealchild didn't know anything -- barely enough to duck his head and be wary of aughisky. "No, the slew would turn on him, if he got on a horse. No one rides among the aughisky that isn't aughisky."
"Or is riding with an aughisky," Iros said. "He could ride behind me, if I got my big remount. She's boring, but she's strong and has a good smooth foxtrot."
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