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Zak turned to the woman behind him, her accent was, not quite unintelligible but her tone was unmistakable. he tried the winning smile "see there's wagons and they're in a line, I can walk." he demonstrated by crab walking a little and reaching for the next hand hold, a piece of brightly colored scroll work which went *CRUNCH-Snap* and broke off in his hand.
as too much of his weight was resting on the bet he had made with that hand Zak fell catching his chin on a ledge he crashed facefirst into the wagon and then the ground.

a small moan escaped Zak and resolved itself into the words "I'm Fine"

"ah'm two of ooou," said Zak turning his nose up out of what was now mud, for lack of a better word, it was certainly brown anyway. he was having some trouble breathing, if pain was a sound it would be his ribs yelling in shrill little voices about what an idiot he was while the base line beat in his head and his eye provided a counterpoint.
mostly it hurt.
his back felt better even if a little drafty through the cuts in his shirt,
Zak moved one freckled hand into a pointing finger and waved it at the short voice in front of him with the bad ideas "ooou ca't lift me, juss hulp me oop" the newly clotted nosebleed of course had restarted. "ahall be fuine" he tried a grin and winced at the cut in his mouth, avoiding the stewpot was still worth a shot but not battered like this, I'm a goner Zak thought.

Tamlin sighed, her hands on her hips. this lad was hopeless. she knelt down and lifted one arm over her shoulders and helped get him sitting upright at least.

"now, no more moving ya'hear" she said gently "else i will 'ave to sit on you, and that wont help your injuries none."

she ripped off the bottom portion of her skirt and stuffed it in his hand "see if y'cannot stop some o' the bleeding a bit. your a good stout lad, but your no good t' anyone if ye've bled to death."

Fun? Rojiza hadn't really thought about that. Taking care of the Banya is fun, she supposes. She shrugs a bit, trying to think of how to respond. Her hand hovers with her pencil above the notepad, waiting for inspiration. Finally, slowly, it comes.
Well, we can run now, and climb, and think. We can make friends easier because we can talk. Well, you can.
Rojiza looks at her response and shrugs again to herself. It'd work. She gives him the notepad again.

After a moment of reading, Kale responds. "I love to run," he says with a grin. "And I've never climbed anything before. Well I guess that one time I climbed up on the dresser to get a jack I threw...but ma got mad at me for that," he looked almost pleased with himself as he recalled.

"Ro, let's race!"

The grin, and Kale was out the door into the meadow beside the wagon train. He waited impatiently for Ro to get level with him.

"To that tree," he said, pointing to a powerful-looking oak about 50 yards off. "And no cheating." He planted his feet, letting his competitive nature pump his adreneline. He looked at Ro to see if she was ready. Whether or not she was enjoying this as much as he was seemed to be of little consequence. So was a child's nature.

Ki just watched, and then pointed to her wagon down the line. "I'm the blue one with the scandinavian scrolling." Put him there once you're done with whatever you're going to do to him." She sighed and hefted the mole child once more. "I don't have any healing skills at all, just a creul wit. besides, I've a son to put in a bath and scrub the mud off him." She began to walk away only to turn back and roll her eyes at the women she considered her friends. "Not that I can keep him out of the mud or dirt." She shrugged, and then walked off to her wagon.