"So, Explain tuh me ageen how it was that ya got's yaselves all fucked up like is?" asked Cedar, while gently running an ungloved claw down Yvonne's back and shoulder. A subtle blue glow emanated from the claw tips in the dull gloom of the inn's common area, which had been immediately transformed from a site of immense boredom into a flurry of sudden spontaneous activity.
He was trying to diagnose the severity of the damage before deciding on a patient to treat first, while Solomon conducted his own investigations, focusing on the blonde elf woman's hand.
"Ya gots a torn shoulder, all the muscles in ya arms an thighs is all chewed up from da inside like you tried ta lif' a boulder a couple dozen times, and ya gots 4 broken ribs. Ya is bleedin on the inside a lil tuh. ... Who were it ageen as been beatin' on yas?"
He was not at all happy about having dinner swept out from underneath his nose, and the tone had impacted his normally jovial banter. He was hungry enough to consider eating the lot of them, but that would not do at all with the current situation. Taken together, the frustration he was feeling was thick enough be spread on toast. The hunters from the cabin had gone from excitement to stark confusion, and were milling about the common room looking at the spectacle with poorly concealed interest, and a great degree of disbelief and shock, as dinner had been snatched out from under their noses too.
"An' what about the girl o'er 'ere?" he asked, as he and Solomon glided past each other, moving from patient to patient, each doing their own examination in their own way. Cedar pointed at the white faced girl hunched over the back of a stern and extremely confused Rascade police or military official of some kind-- All these extra people.. "What's er name?"
He ran his clawed finger down her back, and once more the subtle pinprick of blue light glistened on its, and the rest of his fingers, as he momentarily seemed to be looking 'elsewhere' or perhaps 'distracted', making his list of diagnoses.
"What da hell...." he muttered under his breath, while examining her. "..Some dumbfuck dun put a pin through is here lil girl's chest! Got 'er in da lung!" he gruffed, but continued his assessment "Shit job healin' it... salvagable-- Ain't all though... Malnourished... Ain't seen da sun in years, bones is weak.. Eyes is goin bad.. .. Ears feels like 'eys heard lots o loud boomin... and.... aw no.. which one a yas?... Wit' a lil girl? What's wrong wit' the lot a ya, doin' sommat like at?"
He huffed a deep breath, then cast dour, vaguely accusative look around the room, before very gently taking the girl from the soldier, and muttering to her almost inaudibly while he cradled her against his chest to move her to a table.
"... There naow... I'l be aright... Come on o'er here, an lay daown o'er dis here table fer a minute.. Don' try ta breathe or talk jus' yet... Ya'll start bleedin ageen.. Thassit... Righ' o'er here hon.. Relax..."
He pulled the common room table's bench out away from the table about a third of a meter, then levered his ample bottom on top of it, causing the wood to creak and bend under the weight. It was thankfully a sturdy bench, but it still protested under who was seated. The look of "Distraction" returned to his face as he gently leaned over the table, with the full paw of his ungloved hand placed over the drugged girl's back. The tiny pinpricks of blue light had swelled to an odd but dazzling blue incandescence resembling St Elmo's fire flickering from the claw tips, while the bridge of his nose furrowed, and the girl made plaintive shallow coughs while he worked.
"... Easy naow... Breathe in..... An' out..... .. In.... an' out.... 'at feel better, now dun it?.... In.... An' out....."
The injury had been hastily and improperly healed in a ham-fisted way that would leave complications if left untreated. He had intended to treat Yvonne first, but this crappy patch job could come unraveled with just a good strong cough, sending the poor girl on a fast carriage to hell from a bleed out, and required his immediate attention, despite the seemingly less severe outward presentation.
The girl had a severely weakened constitution. Her body showed all the signs of having been brought up poor and neglected, from thin and fragile bones to wiry and taught muscle stretched between them, to skin that had clearly never seen the sun. Some disgusting pervert had been "Wifeing" her as well. Lots of people called his dad a pervert for sleeping with a bear, but the real and true perverts almost always seemed to get a pass from society, as long as "things kept quiet." And it looked here, like things had "Been kept quiet" for a very, very long time. His dad was a lot of things, but at least the relationship between him and his mother was a thing of love, and not cruelty, like this was-- and his dad would NEVER do something like... this.
His mind wandered into a memory of when he was a much younger cub, and he asked his dad what a pervert was, and why some of the village kids called him that. His dad had been so calm, and collected-- loving and earnest with his explanations of what kinds of things some people did, and why society looked down on it, before elaborating more about he and his mom's relationship, and how it was only perverted to people who didn't, wouldn't, or couldn't understand.
He very much hoped, for this girl's sake, that there was something here that he just didn't understand, but he could not for the life of him, fathom how such a thing could come to pass without some kind of predatory bullshit happening. This little girl wasn't even fully grown yet, and her... Parts... weren't fully mature. The odds of her being a willing and enthusiastic participant did not seem particularly high, and he raged a little inside, thinking about some lout doing something like this to one of his little sisters.
He revised the injury, healing carefully from the center of the lung outward, and very carefully controlling the process to only peak on the girl's weak inhalations. Slowly, the very fragile tissue regenerated a small patch of scar where the wound was, but at least the two sides of it weren't "Stuck together". She wasn't in danger of coughing and suddenly bleeding to death any longer, but she wouldn't be running any marathons any time soon, and he would need to give her additional treatments to further refine and guide the scar tissue back into something that more or less resembled lung over the next couple of days. She was breathing easier at least.
"'ere naow..." he gruffed softly at the girl, his rumbling baritone voice vibrating the table with his stooped posture over the top of it, as he planted his weight on the free hand beside her. ".. At'll do fer naow... Jus' res' easy hon--- Breathe in, an' feel it-- It'll be a lil tight now an' 'en-- but ya'll live. I'll keep workin' on it, as ya can handle it-- but it'll take time now, ya hear? Fer naow-- just lay 'ere an' rest... don' try ta move. Just lay 'ere an' rest."
He straightened back up, then heaved in a deep breath, taking a moment to clear his head.
"A'right 'vonnie, yur next-- C'mon o'er 'ere---"
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