When Rastan awoke later that evening, she was alone. The small cottage was completely deserted. Where was Rook?
She got unsteadily to her feet, ignoring the shooting pains in her face at every blink. Leaning heavily on the furniture, she hobbled to the door and looked out. The whole camp was in an uproar with librarians and Freeglade Lancers dashing back and forth everywhere.
Despite her weakness, Rastan knew where she was needed. Slowly but surely she walked along the street until she found the makeshift hospital. Grabbing some ointments, bandages, and other medical supplies, she threw herself into her work with all her heart.
Her mind was in a turmoil from the sudden change of settings. What had happened between the time she passed out and the time that she woke up was a complete mystery. She was so absorbed in trying to figure it out that she didn't realize who she was treating until she was almost done.
The face was bruised and scraped almost beyond recognition, but it was nevertheless a face that Rastan would know anywhere under any circumstances.
"Rook?" she asked as if he could hear her. "Rook, wake up. I've cooked your favorite bacon n dellberry pancakes this morning. Come on, you can eat them if you just wake up. Please?"
"Come with me, dearie," commanded a gentle yet firm voice behind her. Rastan turned to see Mother Featherflight, head nurse of all of the Freeglades behind.
"Come on," she prompted entering a cozy little room.
"Drink this," she prompted when Rastan sat down. Rastan obliged willingly; she was absolutely parched. "Did you know Captain Rook, lad?" asked the shryke when Rastan had drunk a little.
"He's my husband!" exclaimed Rastan, ignoring the pain in her cheek.
Mother Featherflight's yellow eyes widened. "Rastan? What did you do to your hair?"
"Mother Featherflight, you have to tell me how Rook is. Honestly." Said Rastan putting down her mug and staring at the bird woman.
"He's not in a good shape." Confided the shryke. "That beating he got a few days ago seems to have had some more serious effects than he thought. Not counting the concussion he suffered five years ago, his chances are pretty slim."
"But why can't we take him to the Freeglades? They can heal him, I know they can!"
"Maybe they can but transporting him in this state is out of the question. He wouldn't survive the trip. Have some more tea."
Rastan sipped the steaming beverage. She was about to open her mouth to protest, argue, plead…anything to save Rook's life, when the words caught in her throat. A sudden wave of fatigue hit her and she put her cup down. Before she could even speak, Rastan was asleep.
Mother Featherflight summoned one of her helpers to take Rastan back to her cottage. How fortunate that she always kept some sleeping powder up her sleeve!