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The intrusion of the dragon's voice in her mind was unexpected in and of itself but combined with the image of the injuries to the dragon's face Cai was sent reeling. She gasped and took a step back, collecting herself. She wouldn't respond to the initial comment. They could have not done it at all! It shamed her that this whole fiasco had been initiated in her own Weyr, by the ancientcrafter she'd begun to respect. She shook her head and pursed her lips, trying to return to the task at hand. The green had a knowledge of healing, not that surprising considering the occupation of her rider. Cai's eyes followed as Berath cataloged her injuries, her mind closing off the emotional response of having a dragon speak to her and just thinking with her rational mind.

She nodded in agreement, it was actually reassuring to have Berath speaking to her. It was like having a Master, or at least a Journeyman there with her. Not that she doubted herself, but she knew she was inexperienced and that even with her theoretical knowledge, she could still pose a danger working on her own. "I'll be able to help with your other injuries but you're right, I'm not the one to be working on your eye. Who bandaged you already? Was it the other apprentice?" The tub of supplies wasn't much but at least it was something. More than she'd had to work with on Microth above. She sifted through it and was pleased to find redwort oil and the needles and thread required for stiching. The numbweed had already been pulled out she noticed as well as a jug of water. "I'll need to lift the bandages on your forearms first."

Cai froze, holding very still as Berath reacted to something unknown. Once she'd calmed Cai went back to work, carefully peeling away the bandages and giving each a quick rinse before moving to the next. She'd get everything open before going back over with numbweed and getting her hands dirty.

Her hatchling, her healer, was that how dragon's normally referred to their bonded's and their bonded's children? She'd never really thought about it before. Cai had always figured they'd just used names, though she'd certainly heard riders use terms of endearment in reference to their dragons. Who was she to know though, it wasn't something normally talked about and this was her first time actually talking with a dragon, rather than just it's rider.

Her ears burned, of course the healer's dragon would know all of the apprentices of her Weyr. "I'm from Benden. A blue rider brought me here from the demonstration when the news came that Benden had fallen to the whers." Cai refused to acknowledge the angry trembling in her hands. She just set the jug aside and wiped them on a bit of cloth before going back for the redwort oil and numbweed.

Cai couldn't help the half smile that crossed her face. Her hands were already coated in oil and numbweed but she reached up to caress the green face anyways, disguising the motion as applying the substance to a cut on Berath's cheek. "Thank you Berath. I may take you up on that offer until I can get back to Benden and kick those bastards out of my own home. For now I'm just glad to have something to do and someone to help." She knelt and went to work on Berath's forelegs, the numbweed creating a barrier on the multitude of puncture wounds and slowing the oozing of ichor. Some of the smaller ones would probably heal fine on their own with some attention but many of the deeper wounds would require her stitching.

Becka would just have to survive on her own for a while. This could take some time.

It was a rare sentiment for Cai to hear. She'd never been close to her own mother or even the women who cared for the creche she grew up in. As a child she's been rather independent, relying on herself more than anyone else. "I am surprised that it's as empty as it is right now. Though now that I've said it we'll probably fill up. I know some of the dragon's above got your message. That's how they knew to send us down here. I was with a group of others who continued on. They cleared the tunnel leading here but certainly that wasn't all of the people in this Weyr. If they have any brains they'll have at least left a guard outside for us. That kid with the whip...I don't know how much i trust him to actually protect all of us." Talking helped. While Berath had her mind on defense and strategy she was able to put her hands on autopilot, cleaning and applying numbweed quickly without stress. She shifted her supplies to Berath's other side, cleaning her hands and reapplying oil before she set to work again.

"I wish we had more news of how the battle is going as well. I heard the Wingleader's talking about taking back the firestone stores. Another was going inside to rescue any of your people trapped within I think. They didn't exactly appreciate my presence." She snorted, short of Aleck and Berath so far none of the Malvren folk had exactly been welcoming let alone kind. Bereck she didn't count because he was injured and probably barely noticed her. She hardly expected kindness though. Any stranger would have to be looked on as an enemy, especially one wearing Benden colors. So long as they didn't get in her way she'd try to let it slide for now.

"Oh." That actually explained a lot. And brought up her opinion of the healer in the other room. That he would stay while others were sent to safety, just in case he was needed. It was unfortunate though that he was the one in fact who needed help now. He should have kept another healer with him...Oh again, he had and she had perished. "You were attacked here in the infirmary then..."

She looked back up at Berath as she counseled her against bravery. "I am a Healer Berath. It's not bravery, it's responsibility. Like Bereck, Sesina and even little Becka in there, I will do everything in my power to help those who need it, even if I place myself in danger. Malvren or Benden, it doesn't matter. You can't ignore what you were meant to do." She gave her a confident smile and a hearty pat on an uninjured part of her shoulder.

"I'll get the needles ready while you do that."

There is a terrible moment in every man's life when his father topples from his pedestal and becomes a mortal man.

Aleck lifted his gaze just slightly over the healer's shoulder again, but it didn't focus on Carltis; it was half-lidded, drawn inward, obscured by his bangs. "S'okay Dad," he murmured soothingly as Bereck shook against him. Exhaled. "S'o-"

SLAP

The weyrbrat's gaze shifted sideways - not a quick dart but a gradual slide - and rather slowly than he meant to he pulled upright, lifting his good hand to rest on Bereck's less-injured shoulder as he watched the girls break apart with a faint frown.

"Hey, Becka," he found himself saying quietly as she bustled between them. "You're-" Looking pretty rough? Not the best thing to say to someone trying to stay composed. "When you're done for now, can you do me a favor?"

So. Many. Flouncing. Panties.

Rochelle closed her eyes and took another slow breath. If the girl tried to go anywhere near her foot, she'd kick her in the face. Whatever it was she tried to say made no sense - the little brat had hardly healed anyway, so if Rochelle ended her, what big loss was it? How was that a way to react to a boot in her a**?

Augh. Shardit.

One more deep breath. Rochelle's jaw clenched as she turned to face the group. Sitting up or lying down, Aleck still had a gash in his arm somewhere and she needed a way to not dive tackle the little healer and shove her fist through the girls nose. Right.

When Rocham had been in the infirmary, pale and worn with those too high cheekbones, Rochelle moved things around a bit. They understood, for the most part, as to why she would want to be there and around her father figure sort o man. She knew how heavy the cots had been. She remembered. The glasscrafter stormed towards the nearest cot, her scowl still writ in a harsh line across her face.

The thing about being short and rounded meant that a lot of people underestimated how strong or physically fit you happened to be. Rochelle had extra weight, she had curves and piercings, and she was short. That didn't mean when she viciously shoved at one of the wooden and rather heavy cots in the infirmary that it wouldn't move with a loud SCREEEEEEEEE across the floor.

Instead of punching Becka in the fact or curbstomping her into appropriate submission, Rochelle moved the cot to Aleck and Bereck, venting her rage with each shove or bodily shove against it to push as close to Berecks as she could without slamming them together. Rochelle swung around, grumbling, and sat on the cot. Her legs dangled, a little, and she huffed at a breath.

"Come sit with me, Aleck," she said instead of anything horrible towards Becka. A Becka she totally ignored, mind you. Stupid Becka had her own things to deal with. Rochelle patted the area next to her instead. "C'mon. Be close to him and sit with me."

Shards, they were sixteen again. Rochelle tried to smile anyway, but it was a weak, thin smile.

[berath]

Dragons do not make facial expressions in the same way as humans, but the slight dip of the green's muzzle and the twitch of the end of her tail might have been embarrassment. And she had stopped them getting in, and getting to HerHealer, HerHatchling, Becka, Cai, the boy with the whip, and somebody called Rochelle too apparently. Bereck knew her, but she couldn't pluck knowledge about her out of his mind at the moment.

she assured Cai after a moment, If she fought again - which she would probably have to - the stitches might well tear, but there was no point leaving the wounds bleeding for anything less than a certainty.