Welcome to Gaia! ::

Oh was Malta busy. A healers work was never done, and Threadfall made that truer than most anything else. There were so many current patients – some dragonriders not quite ready to get back on their feet or their wing, some injured by firestone or running, or generally being foolish, and, always, the normal injuries of the wherhold – that Malta had temporarily moved herself to emergency second shift – as in, only going in in the second greenrider shift if their added strength was needed - to help with the healing load. With her, there were just enough experienced healers to handle the apprentices and injuries and properly triage.

Poecileth, though not flying for now, was being useful anyway, doing a lot of carrying of supplies and people and, though it suited them far more than fighting Thread, Malta knew it was but a temporary reprieve.

Malta, of course, was busy as hell. Reprieve or not, there was much to be done because one didn't know when the next horrible hellish tragedy would hit. The last fall had been bad, and it's aftermath left no time for much else. She was no Masterhealer, for sure, but she worked half again as hard as any of the ones they had and that was good. Very good.

So it was Poecileth, herself temporarily unengaged, who noticed the young Queen and her rider. she crooned, Even though Poecileth had once spoken to Vosin herself, she no longer did so. One did not speak to the mind-bonded without their bonded's permission, after all. That was uncouth even for Poecileth.

The chaos of the infirmary was starting to die down, bit by bit, and Malta knew that it was her doing. Now if those wherhandlers would stop getting themselves injured...