Small (I think) Time Skip Going on Here

Crowley sighed and ran a hand through his hair once more. His hair that had started out only slightly windswept was now totally ruffled.

'Move,' he heard a voice behind him order. Out of pure habit, Crowley turned around to face the order and was about to raise an eyebrow and ask if the person knew who he was when he saw that it was Malcolm. Sighing and running a hand through his hair again, Crowley stood up and dragged the chair he was sitting on out of the healer's way.

Malcolm just grunted in response and then proceeded to shove some more herbs down Will's throat. Suddenly he froze.

Crowley almost ran out the room to get Halt when Malcolm started running around and shoving things down Will's throat. He winced when he saw the healer start to prepare a needle to give his patient.

Just as Malcolm was about to jab it into Will, he felt for a pulse and then seemed to decide against giving Will the needle.

'What just happened?' the ignorant Commander asked the knowledgeable Healer.

'His heart-rate dropped greatly, I had to bring it back up again before something serious happened,' Malcolm replied and then collapsed into the chair that Crowley had moved out of his way only a couple of seconds again.

Crowley opened his mouth to protest against having his chair stolen but them decided not too. Malcolm deserved the rest.

'How is he going?' he hesitantly asked.

'I seriously don't know,' Malcolm started replying. 'I don't think that Will is going to be able to pull through this even though he is still young and in the fittest form he could be in.'

The commander didn't even respond this that, instead he grabbed another chair from the bed next to Will's (which was vacant, thankfully) and collapsed into it himself.

'That's bad, very bad,' he muttered and then stood up again. 'I should tell Halt,' he added and left. Malcolm stood up and prepared himself as much as he could in the possibility that he was going to be hit from Halt.

'Fun,' he muttered sarcastically to himself.

! #$%^&*() ! #$%^&*() ! #$%^&*()

Alyss used a word that she had only ever heard Halt say once (and even then Pauline told him off) and tried to scrub a mark from the pots she was holding.

'This is impossible,' she muttered and then threw the pot into the river.

'You will pay for that,' came a voice behind her and Alyss habitually winced. Even though she hadn't done so for a week, she could still feel that pain from where she had been punished from disobeying an order.

She kicked and punched, trying all the time to get away from her captor. He held her too tight though and she only seceded in injuring herself even more.

'Stop, Alyss,' he said and she was forced to stop.

Alyss gave continual death glares to him and then blanched at the sight of the torture instrument that was lying innocently in front of her. She was forced to go into the device.

Her screamed continuously echoed into the day.

I had so much fun writing this chapter. I hadn't originally included Alyss getting kidnapped in my ideas book, so I have no clue as to where this is going to go.

Any suggestions with the Alyss plot line?

Also, to all those sport fencers out there, I need a common household objet to use as a target. I am starting to prepare for nationals for the first time which are approaching fast and my orange tree is not liking me. :)

(Yeah... I broke a branch and stabbed an orange straight through)

:)

Talk to you all soon!

Aly