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As much as he tended to stick to the university district, the strategy hadn't escaped his awareness that their enemy could have reconnaissance and could use it to try to pin down localities of specific senshi to areas. He didn't want to end up a number that way- specifically a notch on some executioner's axe-haft.

So he was ranging further afield, having followed first the late night buses to their home terminals, which took him near some the train station and taxi fields. The tracks had looked inviting, and train service had enough of a graveyard shift that it seemed likely to need a look-see. No use leaving those employees to the mercies-lacking of the Negaverse or the Mirror Court.

He was surprised, track-walking, when he felt a White Moon signature. Someone else had a similar idea? It was staying in a single locus. Maybe they were just noticing him? Or lost in thought. Worst case could be in trouble- a thought that made him pick up his pace from trotting along the rail ties to running. Woe that it be true, who is that up there? They're laying down.

The night dark was no good for seeing very clearly, but they were too close to the tracks for comfort. As in on them. No sane person sleeps on railway tracks unless they have a death wish or have no choice. So either they're passed out, wounded, about to die, or despairing of being what they are. No good options there.

He didn't hesitate, skidding to a stop and crouching immediately along side them, assessing damage as he hovered a hand along the flank and too familiar skirts- "Medea!"

"Medea can you hear me? Medea can you open your eyes for me?"

"Better a familiar face on waking than none at all. It means you do have at least one to call on. " His focus was on the mentioned arm, however. There was blood. Small wonder that you can't move it, Medea. That's a compound fracture. Exposed, damaged flesh and muscle. It's too dark to get a very good idea if there's still exposed bone or fragmentation. Okay. Okayokayokay. "We'll work this out, don't worry. I know...what to do for this. "

Kind of.

He'd been in boy scouts when he was younger out of an interest to have access to many informal teaching events- scouts got to learn all sorts of interesting and useful things - bowline flood rescue, compass navigation, Fire-building, knot tying, ladder lashing, horseback riding basics, leather working, geology, spelunking, plumbing basics, scuba, rifle use, rowing, first aid....first aid. First aid, search and rescue. Hiking. The card catalogue of his mind was flipping furiously, trying to bring up the right information on a moments notice. It wasn't fast enough. Try talking it out, maybe that'll refresh it.

"Okay, a fellow hiker has fallen off the side of a cliff and broken a limb...step one, is there bleeding. Yes. Yes, you're bleeding. That arm is broken. It's a compound fracture. I need tooooo...I don't have a first aid kit. No water near to flush the wound lightly of detritus. " Why didn't they all carry first aid kits? Shouldn't that be part of the uniform? Hide it in the bows or something. "Stem bleeding, don't touch the wound itself to avoid contamination. "

With WHAT.
"Alright, Medea? I'm going to need to you to power down. I need you to be Ruthie. I can't take you to the emergency room this way. For either of us. Our clothes would just vanish and ruin bindings if I used this sash, for example. I need you to henshin down, so that I can see what I have to work with."

"I'll take care of you, Medea. Ruthie. " He wasn't going to power down himself just yet- he needed the extra speed and strength. No med kit, no washing, no sterile bandages. Next step? Stabilize the wound.

Really it was all he could do. In the least there were trees and woods all around. "I'll be. right. back"

He emphasized every word, hoping it woudl make it through the wound-haze. Then ran to the nearest trees and started hastily examining likely branches for thickness. Every minute counted, but it needed to be correct or it wouldn't help her and get her safely to the emergency room. A branch long enough to extend longer than the break on both sides and keep the arm perfectly straight and still. It had to be thick enough it wouldn't bend, but thin enough he could break it free. It took two trees, maybe four frantic minutes. Then the quick shimmy up into the canopy, an echoing crack, some auxiliary cracks of minor branches cleared, and Thraen was again at her side.

Her shirt was immediately accessible, but he didn't want to jostle her ripping it- so Thraen powered down, his hair falling free of flowers and vines while a t-shirt and loose lounge pants replaced the cincher, boots and awkward white pants. The t-shirt, already years old and from a thrift when he'd bought it, was thin and easy to tear- he pulled it off immediately and set to work rendering it into long stripes. "This is going to hurt a moment- I'm going to mover your arm onto this branch, and tie it there. But that will keep it still, and then I'll get you the the hospital. "

He wished he had a blanket or something to wrap her. There wasn't much to do for addressing if she was going or already in shock. Nothing but being swift. "Can you still hear me? "

With him, yes, she was still there, but it didn't seem like she was with it enough to be very coherent. It wasn't a great sign.

Quenton was careful with the wrapping. It couldn't be too much, or it would tourniquet the wound and tissue might be damaged from lack of oxygen. But she had lost enough blood to make him consider it. Once it was complete, he brought the stabilized arm forward over her and rolled her on her back so that she woudl be easier to pick up. It wouldn't be fast enough as a civilian, so he stood back, shirtless, and henshined up again.

She scooped up light as a feather and he ran, doing what he could to minimize jostle. He knew his way, at least, to the hospital system of Destiny City. He'd had a layover there himself, and had gotten there on foot that time as well. It felt like forever, even with senshi speed taking his eight minute mile and making it much less. He was still standing at the end of it, at least, even wheezing and covered in sweat. Henshining down again, shirtless being godly compared to the cincher, and there was only half a block to go, "Still with me, Ruthie?"

He wanted to ask if she had an ID, but there probably wasn't much point. If she did, the hospital would find it when they cut off her clothes. They'd find any other damage that way too, if she'd taken more damage than a broken arm. "Ruthie. My name is Quenton. Don't say Thraen to the doctors or anyone. Quen-ton."

He wasn't confident that this was going to turn out...she was still saying his powered name. Well, there was always passing it off as delirium? He'd get to field questions about her until she was stabilized. He head into the emergency and to the sign in.

At least they were efficient- the nurses brought a gurney for the patient immediately to start, taking her into one of the little spaces in the back. He was offered one of their purple scrub shirts and sat down in the check-on office-

Do you know the patient?
Yes, a little. I've seen her on campus. We've talked once. Her name is Ruthie.

Do you know her full name?
No.

Do you know her address or emergency contact information?
I don't, I'm sorry. We've only talked the one time.

What happened?
I found her while I was out for a walk. Really I just saw that it looked like someone was lying down, and it wasn't a place to be doing that. She was alone and banged up like that, I don't know if she was passed out. She responded when prompted, but wasn't very coherent. I didn't see anyone fleeing the area. I don't have my cellphone on me, or I would have called an ambulance. I know its bad to move someone, but pay phones don't really exist. There wasn't much around at all to be able to just knock on someone's door either.

Where was she?
Near the wood a bit from here.

Do you know if she has any allergies?
I don't know. I've only met her once, on campus. We exchanged first names. So I recognized her.

Did you find her with any personal effects that should be returned, and or might be useful?
No, I didn't see a purse nearby or anything. But honestly, I wasn't looking. I didn't check her pockets either.

Your name, address, phone number?
Quenton Marinus. Holbein Building, apartment JJ. I could give you a cell number?

We may not need it if we can get emergency contact information from her. Are you going to stay as her friend here in the waiting room?
Yes, I'll stay. If you can come get me when she can have a visitor, even if she's not awake. It would be lonely and alarming to wake to an empty room.
And honestly, I'd like to know what happened, too.

Mentally, admittedly, he was miiiiiles away. Quenton was in the visitor's chair provided for the room, curled on hi ship and sitting curled sideways in the state of half-sleep that was mastered by most students for catching whatever rest was possible on the run in public spaces. He'd followed her up as soon as they'd admitted her to a room, uncertain if the staff had found any ID or emergency information for her. The patient protection acts meant that as no relation at all he wasn't given much of any information, but he understood the reasoning for it.

But it had been forever ago that they'd arrived, and he didn't have anything to keep him busy and engaged. So he got as comfortable as possible and had invested in half-sleep. At least it meant he was with it enough to hear his name and, after a few seconds, his brain processed the information correctly that it was a reference to himself and he needed to reboot.

He uncurled his legs slowly, still from disuse after running, tottered up onto them and came to the bedside to lean over the hopefully more coherent patient. "Ruthie? Returned from Tartaros?"

"We're at the University Hospital. How do you feel? "

"You were pretty badly off, and badly into body shock. The sort from serious wounds. " He stayed standing, near the bed. If she was admitting so baldly and so soon on waking close things like that sort of fear, there was a pretty decent chance she was nearing a breaking point. And who wouldn't?

"It isn't uncommon, Ruthie. Its well documented, if not so well understood. It used to be very humanly called Shell Shock- being in a war, and in battles, is bad enough. Initial serious injury, or watching someone close to you incur serious injury, is often enough a trigger. Fear is very healthy. It can bring us wisdom, if we interpret from it well. " He sighed, his brow furrowing, "You don't have to feel like you're facing it alone. Not if you don't want to. Organization and allies. It makes no sense, if we are a court, to go out alone. That is only for scouts, and even modern military uses things like cell phones to keep scouts in contact with a base. I've been thinking of it much, how we are all ignoring the collected history of military tactics and warfare, yet we are all soldiers. "

"Even the history of prey and predator. We go out each night pretending like we are leopards, but are we? No. You and I would do better as wolves- a pack with structure that uses each strength properly and shores each other up. We should be afraid, if we keep making decisions as we are. I'm no soldier, that much plain by looking at me. I'm just a University Student. Only fools or the insane repeat the same action with no changes over and over expecting a different outcome. We're going to keep getting hurt, or worse and anyone like us, if we don't do something about it. That is something to fear, Ruthie. Let's not do that any more. "

"Let's make changes We both want to help people, to do what is right, what can save people as well as celebrate the gifts we've discovered. There's nothing wrong with any of that, just with expecting ourselves to survive without making changes allowing for our strengths and weaknesses."

He gave a weak smile, "Then we don't, either of us, have to be afraid."