Lys: Overzealous

Aithne did not know what this "hill sickness" was, but she knew what she had. She had it at least once every cold season. She would be coughing and choking on snot for awhile, but eventually, if she took it easy and didn't push herself in any way, it would clear up.

She was thankful for the Guttersnipe's ministrations, and took them with a smile. The girl seemed to have forgotten she was treating someone who knew a good bit of healing, herself. Aithne wagered that when the girl returned, she'd be able to identify at least three quarters of the herbs in whatever treatment was brought.

But she sat patiently and obediently, rubbing her ears in hopes of making the ache in them improve.


Cathair returned the Guttersnipe's look, not backing down. He wasn't certain what she was doing, but he bore it with very little trouble. Then, of all things, she gave him an approving nod, surprising him completely. Gone was the little fighting hen of a few days ago. He felt as though he'd been put to some test and had passed, somehow.

When the girl had gone he sat down by Aithne, putting his own cloak around her. Then, hoping to be helpful, he reached over and rubbed her ears for her, gently pushing her own hands out of the way.


Aithne dropped her hands to her lap, then held them to the fire, grateful for a chance to warm them.

Cathair's big fingers were unused to such delicate work, though. She winced as he pressed too hard, but she bore it for his sake. He needed to be doing something.
Then he got a little too overzealous with it...

"Ouch!" she cried, half laughing. "Thank you, Cathair, but I think you're about to pull my ears off."

He looked sheepish and apologetic, and she patted his shoulder. "It was kind of you, though. Thank you..." Just then, her chest tightened again and she coughed hard. Not loud, but deep. She did her best to supress it, but that only made it worse. He was concerned, she could tell.

"I'm okay, Cathair. Don't worry. Just a tickle."

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