Completed Blood in the Straw

[Solemn Warborn]

Summer, the 50th, 516 AV Blood in the Straw Solemn was shoveling shit out of a horse’s stall. It was his job, and he was immensely grateful for it. But there was nothing glamorous about it. It was late in the evening, or what would have been evening had Syna decided not to abandon Avanthal in the summer, and there was still an insufferable amount of work to do and few stable hands to do it. Many were already out for the day, and Sol’s one remaining coworker, Gelcer, was about to head out. If he was to be believed, Gelcer had scored a date with a particularly gorgeous young Winterflame he had had his eye on for quite some time now. Gelcer would be headed out early to clean up. Something about animal feces not being a good scent for a date. Solemn had no issue with the Frostfawn leaving early, especially for the reason he was. Eyeing the shavings on the floor of the stall, Solemn searched for spots with excrement, all the while keeping the horse in the corner of his sight. Horses, he knew, were powerful creatures, and if it struck their fancy (which he had seen it do), they could become quickly dangerous. He had left his wheelbarrow in the space left by the open stall door. There had been an incident early in Sol’s career at the stables where he had failed to secure a door and the rest of the day had been spent trying to catch the horse. A more experienced groom had shown him the trick with the wheelbarrow the next day. Seeing a wet spot in the shavings, Solemn scooped it up with his shovel and placed it in the wheelbarrow. The mare in the stall wandered over to him slowly and nuzzled his shoulder for a moment, nickering when Sol didn’t respond as she wanted him to. Moving slowly, Solemn reached up and gently stroked her neck, breathing in the gentle, earthy scent every horse seemed to have. Gelcer dropped by. “I’m headed out now, Solomon. I need to leave if I’m gonna smell like anything but horse and poop.” “Enjoy.” “I will. Oh, hey. I didn’t manage to make it through the last row of kennels. There are still a few at the far end that need to be checked out.” Solemn nodded. He didn’t mind looking after the dogs. He actually preferred them over the horses, making him the rarer commodity in the Stables. “I’ve got it covered.” “Thanks.” Gelcer turned and started for the front of the Stables. “Stories,” Solemn shouted after him. Gelcer threw a smile over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m gonna come back with the best ones yet.” The grooms had a morning custom of bragging about their various exploits from the evening before, and usually that bragging culminated in tales of romantic daring. It was a longstanding competition between the young Vantha men and women as to who could tell the best tale from the night before. So far, the women had always been better at it than the men. The mare next to him nickered again, a little more loudly this time. Nudging him with her head, she knocked him off balance, and Solemn stumbled back a few feet before he regained his footing. He glared at her. “You’re a brat. You know that?” She nickered again, ignoring his chiding. He knew what she was waiting for. Solemn always managed to snag some fresh produce from shipments that came into the docks, and today, he had managed to pick up some apples. The animals knew he was one for giving treats freely and had now actually come to expect it from him. He reached into his pocket where he had two apples left hidden. Holding one out in his flat palm, he whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t let anyone know.” She took the apple, and Solemn took his leave. Moving down the row of stalls, he cleaned each one and made sure the horses had been fed for the night. Double checking the latches on all the stalls he had cleaned, he returned to his wheelbarrow and pushed it down the wide center aisle of the Stables. As he did, he listened to the soft sounds the various animals made. Mostly it was the whinnying of horses, but interspersed with these were the occasional bleating of sheep and goats and the deep, soft lowing of cattle. Turning down a side aisle, Solemn decided to pass the dogs on his way to dump his wheelbarrow. He knew all the dogs had been fed previously, so all he had to do was make sure everyone was alright before he bedded down for the night. It took several chimes to get to where the dogs were housed. It was best to keep them separate from the prey animals. Barking tended to spook the horses. He called the dogs by name; he knew most of them. He had helped train a few. Most of the dogs were sled dogs. Halfway down the last aisle, he looked into a stall and swore. The straw beneath the dozen dogs was spattered with blood. His long day was about to get longer.

[Solemn Warborn]

He put his wheelbarrow down and peeked over the edge, trying to identify which dog was bleeding, but his sudden interest in the dogs bought their attention. All of them leapt to their feet and began to mill about the stall, barking and jumping, but try as he may, Solemn could not spot which dog was bleeding. What he could see was that some of the blood was fresh, and there continued to be more and more of it. The barking in this stall seemed to be a contagious process, as it always was with dogs, and soon the entire aisle was in an uproar. Drawing a deep breath, Solemn yelled as loud as he could. “Quiet!” As was the appropriate response for dogs, they all barked even louder. His voice was just another, inconsequential among their din, and they were happy to have one more added to theirs. Solemn should have known better. He had been helping train dogs since was two, and shouting tended to get one nowhere, especially in a chorus of dogs. Calming his panicking mind, he reasoned himself into an even further calm. None of the dogs seemed like they were in danger of bleeding out, even though the blood looked like it was a lot. If nothing else, he had time on his side. He could think about this rationally and take it one step at a time, slowly as he was prone to do with all things. He switched tactics. The particular pen of dogs he was concerned about had been ones he had helped train. Their master was a strict trainer and expected swift reactions from his dogs, but the man had no voice commands excepting only those he used while they were mushing. All commands these dogs knew out of a harness were those given with hand signals. It took him a short moment to remember what commands went with which hand signals. Picking the correct one, he gave it a try. Holding up his fist in front of him with the back of hand to the animals, he waited for the dogs in the pen to see it. One by one or sometimes in pairs, the dogs sat down and went quiet as they recognized the command. The quiet was noticed by other pens of dogs, and like a ripple on water, the silence spread down to both ends of the aisle. Now that he had the dogs calm, he had to come up with a plan to fix this mess. “Hello?” he called down as loudly as he could without upsetting the dogs again. It was a desperate plan, calling for help. Most everyone had left, and the only people still present would be residents, grooms who had made the Stables their home. The stable hands’ rooms were on the other side of the large structure, and even if they heard him, an impossible task, they would be as useless as he was in this case. None of them were veterinarians. All the veterinarians lived in the arvintas of Frostfawn and Whitewine Holds. If one the grooms responded, he could send them to fetch a vet, but he knew he would get no response. No. Whatever was going to be done was going to have to be done by him. He knew where the medical supplies were stored and set off for them at his fastest pace, which was a slow amble. Gods. The idea of running itself made his sloth legs ache. The supplies were back with the horses, but there were material that there that would work for the dogs as well. Pulling out needle and suture, he quickly put it back. These were the tools of a skilled surgeon or, at the very least, an experienced seamster. Solemn was neither. With a needle and thread, he’d be more likely to do a cruelty to the animals. Instead, he selected several wraps made of different materials and a handful of cotton. Trudging his way back to the pen, he leaned over the edge and immediately gave them the hand signal for sit. Those dogs that were lying down sat up until a dozen dogs sat quietly staring at him. Opening his hand and turning the palm toward them, he gave them the command to stay. It was the quick work of shifting and lifting the latch, and Solemn was in the pen, closing the gate behind him. Fortune was on his side that these dogs knew their commands so well. Not one moved as he went around to each, lifting and inspecting every paw. It was the fifth dog he searched that was the one in question. There was a deep gash in the center of his front left paw, likely from a cruel shard of ice. While Solemn had no medical experience himself, he had been around the veterinarians plenty of times while they bandaged a paw, though he usually observed from a distance while being lectured by more experienced mushers about not taking dogs through ice fields. The veterinarians always did it in several layers. Kneeling next to the creature he laid his supplies on a clean patch of straw beneath them both. Picking up the dog’s injured paw, he inspected the wound again. Blood was welling up out of the wound, but at least it was clean. Taking a small patch of cloth, he lay a small glob of salve on it and placed it directly on the wound, squeezing the paw a bit as he did. Pain flashed in the dog’s eyes as a brief dilation of his pupils, and the Zypherian sled dog whined and tried to pull its paw away. Solemn held the paw firmly and kept the dog still. Next, he wrapped a soft cotton roll around the patch and paw and moved up the leg a short way, keeping the roll loose so as not to cause too much pain to the pup. When that layer was finished, he wrapped a heavier cloth around the first one, tying it in a knot at the top.

[Solemn Warborn]

Solemn stood up, taking one more proud look at his work. The bandage looked good, better than he thought it would turn out. It looked as neat as any of the ones he had seen the veterinarians place. Every layer wrapped evenly over the one before it, and the knot he had tied at the end was simple and small. It wouldn’t be so bulky that it would hinder the dog’s movement. Satisfied with a job well done, Solemn stood and stepped out of the pen, blocking the opening with his body until the door was latched in place once more. Moving over to the wheelbarrow, he began to take it away before he decided to check on the dogs one last time. Solemn set the wheelbarrow down and stepped back over to the pen, peering over the edge just in time to watch the injured dog finished pulling off the bandage over the end of his foot. As soon as the dog was free from the bandage it only saw as an annoyance, it started to pace the pen, leaving behind fresh swaths of blood as it did. One of the dogs spotted Solemn as he swore. It barked once in excitement and set off a cascade, and soon, the entire aisle of dogs was barking once again. Solemn tried to get the dogs’ attention with the hand commands again, but they were too excited this time. He'd just have to wait them out. It was not a task meant for anyone with a short supply of patience as dogs loved the sound of their own voices and could carry on with this for a while. Fortunately, Solemn was built for patience. He was not fast, and that meant he had to be patient with all things in his life. Eventually, the dogs grew tired of their own voices and the lack of results barking was getting them. When they had quieted some, he have them the command to sit once more, and they obeyed, lapsing into silence. Grabbing the bandaging supplies from where he had left them, he stepped back into the pen and made his way to the dog’s side, pulling up the creature’s paw. Inspecting the bottom of the pad, he found it to be bleeding again. With a few quick swipes of his thumb, he brushed away the straw that had gone up into the wound and had stuck to the salve and drying blood. Slathering on a small glob of salve over the wound again, Solemn wrapped another small strip of cloth over it. The next layer was the cotton roll, but Solemn wasn’t about to make the same mistake he had just made. This time, he wrapped it tightly, so the dog wouldn’t be able to pull it off again. The dog whined a little and tried to pull its paw away, but Solemn held the creature’s limb still. The final layer was the heavier wrap meant to secure the wrap below as well as protect it from outside elements such as snow and dogs’ tongues. Holding the beginning part of the strip of cloth firmly over the place where the last layer ended, he ran the cloth around the dog’s leg once and pulled it as tight as he could before wrapping it down the leg a little farther down. At each new circle around the limb, he tightened it this way until he reached the bottom of the limb, leaving the toes exposed. Then, in the same fashion, he worked his way back up to the top, further tightening the first layer again. At the top, as he had done before, Solemn tied a tight knot, so all his hard work wouldn’t come undone. Stepping back, he took another proud look at his accomplishment. There was no way the dog was getting this bandage off.

[Solemn Warborn]

Standing and taking the supplies out of the pen, Solemn turned back to see what the dog would do. True to form, the big beast went after the bandage as soon as Solemn was gone, but Solemn’s adjustments to the bandage worked. Try as hard as he could, the dog couldn’t get the bandage off. Solemn had made the bandage too tight. For several minutes, the dog tried to get its teeth under the top portion of the bandage, but the only progress came he made was to soak his leg in saliva. Smiling at his success, Solemn grabbed his wheelbarrow and continued on to where the waste was held. It was a large, covered area outside of the main stables. Here, the waste was mixed with soil to help make it better for growing plants. Agriculture, at least the crop growing aspect of it, was practically absent in Avanthal. The fierce cold along with the stretches of complete darkness or minimal sunshine made it difficult to grow anything, but for those who wanted to try their hand at growing a small garden or potted plants, the Stables was the place to come for good soil. Tipping the wheelbarrow forward, Solemn ducked and readjusted himself so the handles were above his shoulders. Then, he stood and pushed the handles up, dumping the wheelbarrow’s contents on to the pile. Once the wheelbarrow was back on the ground, Solemn took one of the shovels that was kept nearby and drove it into the pile of soil and manure, pulling up a spade full of dirt and covering the new waste he had just added. Several times, he drove the shovel into the pile to break up the larger chunks, then took his wheelbarrow and put it away. It was late already, but Solemn kept the evening rounds faithfully. Wandering through the barn, he peeked in at each creature, making sure none showed any signs of distress. Horses, he knew, were prone to dying easily. A horse rolling more than usual, looking at its flank, or kicking at its belly all were bad signs, signs of what the veterinarians had called colic. Tonight was a quiet night. Few of the horses even gave him so much as a soft nicker as he passed and looked in on them. There were no horses to worry about tonight. It was a nearly midnight when he reached the section of the barn that housed the dogs. It was quiet there, and Solemn did everything in his power to keep it that way. Slow and steady, his pace allowed him to keep his footfalls light. Most of the dogs never even knew he was there when he peeked over the edge of their pens to ensure they were all safe and accounted for. Those few who did take notice reacted only by flicking their eyes and ears in his direction or, if they were truly ambitious, by lifting their heads and looking at him. To these few, he murmured a few words of comfort, and recognizing his voice, the dogs went back to sleep. There was an advantage to having worked with most of the dogs as long as he had. Finally, he came to the pen where he had treated the dog with the cut paw. He peeked over the side, took one look, and cursed. The dog in question was sitting in the center, holding up the wounded paw and whining. Above the bandage, the leg was swollen. He had made this bandage too tight. It was a mistake he had seen some of the rookie veterinarians make. Cursing again, he entered the pen and went straight to the dog’s side, but it was only a matter of a moment before he was surrounded by all the other dogs whining and baring for attention. As soon as one bark sounded, the rest of the dogs in the Stables joined in. Ignoring them, Solemn concentrated on untying the knot he had placed in the bandage. With the knot as tight as it was, the task was made more difficult than it should have been, but Solemn’s sturdy nails caught at the fabric and tugged bit by bit until the bandage slipped free from itself. Unwrapping the dog’s paw, he felt how there was a difference in the warmth from up top to down at the toes. There was a moment of nothing as the blood rushed back into the limb, and then it began to bleed again. Shaking his head, Solemn shuffled over to the wall of the pen and sat down against it. He called to the dog to come. It was an effective command, but all the dogs heeded and crowded around him. Slowly, Solemn shifted the dogs around him until the wounded dog was at his side. He gave them the command to lie down, and they all did, the injured one lying its head down in his lap. Taking the strip of cloth he had used for the bandage, he pulled the injured paw up in to his lap and held it in his hands with the cloth wrapped gently around it. Slowly he fell asleep as the dogs all moved in closer, the warmth of the pack keeping him warm and a dream of his sister’s voice singing a lullaby keeping him in a deep sleep. Summer, the 51st, 516 AV A gentle shake of his shoulder woke him the next morning. He opened his eyes to see Lusina kneeling over him. “Solemn, what are you doing here?” It took the young Kelvic a few moments to get his bearings. He was warm, almost overly so, and it wasn’t until he heard a soft whine that he realized he was surrounded by the group of dogs still. He held up the dog’s paw as an explanation. “It wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Lusina glanced around the pen. “Yeah, I can see that. I’ve already got a vet on the way. We’ll get it handled from here. Go ahead and get some sleep.” He took her advice and warm smile and headed to his room, but rather than collapse into his bed, he wrapped himself in his warmest clothes and headed back out. Stopping by the common room for the grooms, he snagged a hunk of cheese off the table where other Frostfawns often left food as tokens of their appreciation for the care the grooms gave their animals. With that, he headed out.

[Solemn Warborn]

Solemn (Self Grade) Skills +Animal Husbandry +4 +Bodybuilding +1 +Logic +1 +Medicine +3 +Observation +3 +Stealth +1 Lores -Stories: A Stablehands Competition -It's Best to Keep Predators and Prey Housed Separately -Barking Is Contagious -Some Dogs Are Trained to Hand Signals -Wrapping a Simple Bandage -Bandages: If too loose, they can be pulled off -Manure Makes for Good Fertilizer -Colic Signs: Rolling, Kicking at the Belly, and Looking at the Flank -Bandages: If too tight, they can cut circulation off -Lusina Frostfawn: Head of White Elk Stables -Walking Slowly Keeps One Quiet Notes : Good job, me! I'm proud of you. Please remind yourself to remove my request from the queue. Don't PM me if you have any questions or concerns about your grade.