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Merlin looked up, through a cloudy haze, to find a rescue team of Sentinels crowding the surrounding branches. Despite his pain-ridden, injured state, the Hunter scanned their ranks for a familiar-looking elite. The habit was deeply ingrained, as were the inevitable disappointments. He did not find them.

Then, as quickly as the group had come, they departed, leaving two of their number behind. One was unmistakably a Medic, judging by the way she quickly diagnosed his condition. The presence of a skilled healer would, of course, have made any injured Sentinel overjoyed. However, after his initial relief, Merlin’s had thoughts only for his escaped quarry.

“The Aberrant.” He managed to gasp out. “…from the tree. Gusts…wind…so strong.” Merlin jerked his head towards the general direction of the Ground. “Where…is she? Did she…make it?”

Feeling his wing pop back into its socket with a sickening jolt, Merlin flinched and grimaced. That split second of agony, however, was nothing compared to the horrendous pain that followed. Later, Merlin would humorously describe being healed by Lichen as “a procedure demanding healing of its own, oho!” Unfortunately, for now, it was anything but a laugh. In fact, for a brief, rather insane moment, Merlin would rather take his sprained wing and hobble home disfigured and shamed, than have it healed…But of course, that was out of the question –a Hunter does have his pride, after all-, so he grit his beak, and cursed everything; the blasted storm, the blasted tree, and above all else, the blasted herbs, which seemed to have yet to take any effect whatsoever. Great. Just great. The Medic had said that it would deaden the pain. She-had-said it-would-deaden-the-pain! So why did his wing feel as if the Thunderbird had taken it upon himself to sit on it?!

Having had a searing iron wing clamp down on his own, Merlin winced and barely made out her words, which sounded oddly distorted by the pulse of his rapidly-beating heart.
His trained, practical side that his parent’s had worked so hard to cultivate, finally was put to use. “Merlin, ma’am. A Hunter.” Merlin winced as a particularly sharp jolt shot up his wing. “She’s-she’s…I think she fell. One moment she’s there, in the fir, the next, not. Went down…down…The storm…isn’t safe to be flying in…I went after her, I did, and look what happened.” Merlin was caught in an inexplicable urge to laugh, or perhaps cry, except that Sentinels couldn’t, and neither would be appropriate in the situation.

The medic seems to be completely oblivious to the pain she's put the hapless hunter through, continuing on in her brisk and business-like manner. "Alright then, Merlin. You sit tight and concentrate on breathing evenly until the pain subsides," Lichen instructs him briskly, then turns to peer at Duskwater. The words of the Elite warrant a few more nods while the medic takes some time to collect her thoughts, weighing the options. A cave means good shelter from the storm, but with Merlin's wing injury he'd be dangerously exposed on the ground and if anything happened, well.. A cave also means that the 'missing female' could have found shelter, if she survived the fall.

"We can't take him to the ground, he'd be little more than bait down there. There was a shelter of sorts higher up, let's get him to safety and then discuss our options." It's a bit of a bad habit of Lichen's, treating everyone as if she has the right to order them around. Of course, when it's a medical matter nobody seems to question her, so it's a habit that she has managed to get away with for seasons. Fully expecting that the Elite will fall in line without question, she begins to move along the branch to scout out the best way to bring Merlin to relative safety.

The Elite and the Medic seems to be very well matched, indeed, because the big Ghost merely nods with a snappish "Yes ma'am," and follows her lead. And why not? Lichen has echoed his own sentiments as far as going to ground with the injured sentinel are concerned, and it is obvious that this perch is far too precarious and unprotected to remain on for much longer.

Duskwater steps up to Merlin and inspects him closely. "I hope you can climb," is all he rumbles in reply to the Hunter. Then, as he turns his face disk upwards in contemplation of what path Lichen might choose up the side of the tree, he adds like an afterthought: "At least you'll be keeping warm on the way up..."

Turning to the Medic, Dusk raises his ear tufts and his voice somewhat. "How about we aim for the split branch first? What do you think?"

Merlin huffed. Just because he was injured didn’t mean he couldn’t climb. And he certainly knew not to flap, as he had experienced its devastating effect just moments ago. And on top of that, he certainly didn’t need someone to catch him, thankyouverymuch, because he wasn’t going to just fall out of the tree. Honestly, it wasn’t as if he was stupid…wait…what in all of Noctua did that Medic just say?

Oh-yes. “Go there, there, and there” was very helpful when there were hundreds branches surrounding the area. Merlin wasn’t a helpless cripple, but he wasn’t psychic either. How was he to know exactly where she meant when she had been so vague?

Merlin promptly berated himself for thinking such unkind thoughts (again) of a lady, but pain combined with the weariness settling into his bones would make it hard for anyone to stay cheerful. He gave a crisp nod (though he really had no clue whatsoever) and eyed the general area where both the Elite and the Medic had been appraising. There were so many paths up the tree, it would be impossible to guess which one Lichen would take. Forget it. He’d mimic the Medic’s movements, assuming that he could keep up with her…Wait- what was he thinking? It was a blasphemous idea that he, the mighty Hunter, wouldn't be capable of following a female…

Fortunately for Merlin, Lichen isn't a secretly-adept athlete of any sort. Sure, she's physically fit. Sure, she's reasonably agile. But she's a Medic, not a combatant - her mind is her greatest strength. So the Mist female sidles closer to the trunk before she begins her ascent, moving with grim determination. Her hops are slow and considered, as she waits for lulls in the storm before she moves. Most of the jumps she makes are done without need of her wings, as if she's trying to be certain that the Hunter won't be tempted to use his injured limb at all.

When she reaches the last 'there' she pauses, then hops ahead to watch Merlin's progress and wait for his signal.

Duskwater climbed in silence, doing his best to protect the injured sentinel from any sudden gust of wind, as far as he was able to, but mostly making sure to stay below him. Just in case.

And because he kept such a close eye on Merlin, he noticed the wincing, the heavy breathing and the little pauses. When they were coming up on the last there, and Dusk could make eye contact with Lichen again, he held her gaze for a moment and then pointedly looked over at Merlin, sleeking back his ear tufts as he looked back at the Medic again.

He's tired, better take a breather.

Inwardly, Merlin sighed in relief that they had stopped. There. Now he could take a proper breather, and without further damaging his image. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how much further he could go without at least stopping for a few moments. The initial adrenaline rush that had kept him going had left, taking with it his borrowed strength. Merlin's eartufts drooped, feeling an undeniable sensation of weariness. Dragging himself up the tree had taken a lot out of him, as it was immensely difficult to hop awkwardly while attempting keep his injured limb as immobile as possible. The times when he had failed to tuck his wing tightly to his side had resulted in a few fairly painful brushes and a good deal of wincing.

Though he hadn’t initially thought of it that way, it was rather lucky that his bandage had gotten caught on that last branch. Still...was it merely his imagination, or did the Medic seem to be focusing his wing less, and his breathing more? And the Elite…hadn’t he felt his gaze sharpen only moments before they had stopped?

Well, no matter. To all intents and outward purposes, they had paused to adjust Merlin’s bandaging. It had been nothing more, and certainly not to afford him a break that he didn’t need (though he hadn’t quite managed to succeed in deluding himself into believing this). In the very least, it was a good way to stop and take a rest without directly asking for one. In fact, he felt much better now; strength was slowly returning to his limbs.

Having semi-recuperated, Merlin stood a tad straighter. Even if the Medic and/or the Elite had noticed him tiring, then they were decent enough Sentinels not to point it out to him.

His own parents would never have considered taking the time to do such a thing.