Page 259: No Pyke For You.
No Pyke for You
Summary: Why Einar failed to reach Pyke
Date: 3/4/2012
Related Logs: Harlaw Isle logs in general
Einar Anders 
Flint Camp, Harlaw
Tents, horses, rocks, rain.
2nd April, 289

Harlaw Isle. Still. They high that had accompanied the surrender of the Ironborn lord and his inner keep is slowly ebbing away as the army sits and waits. And then waits a bit more. The weather doesn’t help either, drizzle and wind meaning it's a battle to stay dry and warm. Still there are things that need to be done, and not just to keep hands busy. One such task is to see to the horses, who themselves seem as restless as some of the men. Rae, Einar's own horse, has reluctantly submitted to a grooming session and now it's the turn of Chance, Anders' beast. Still half the job down, only half to go before the squire can retreat somewhere more clement. Even if only briefly.

It's not just the squire that works out in the cold and wet, thanks to war. As much as Anders would like to be in his tent, beside a fire, drinking tea, that time is not yet come. He's coming back from yet another unremarkable meeting regarding the allocation of spoils, heading towards that tent. It's not to be, however, in the passing of his squire and cousin. "Cousin," and he pulls his cloak a little tighter 'round about his shoulders. "They're growing their hair out already." Chance is getting a little shaggy, softer hair on his neck.

Einar ditched his cloak inside a long while ago. Given the rain is that insidious drizzle that gets through everything he figured he'd be better having something dry later, cos he was going to bet soaked anyway. As Anders' approaches he's picking out the charger's rear hooves and upon hearing the greeting he glances over and then stands, not adverse to conversation. Using the back of his hand to shift a wet straggle of hair out of his eyes he answers, "Cousin," then gives the horse in question a quick glance before nodding in agreement. "Hopefully we'll be able to sort that properly soon. Not sure it's worth doing now if we're going to be heading back to the mainland soon. Is there any news on that yet by the way?"

Anders stands to watch, his head canting, the woolen cloak closing about him. The chill is one thing, damp is another. "That's my thought, too. Horses won't get seen to properly until we're back to the mainland." He exhales, putting out a hand to scritch at the horse's nose, holding it, 'shhhhing' the restlessness. "I.. have no idea. Word from Pyke is that they're doing well, and they may or may not call for us." He smiles tightly, a touch of a amusement on his face, "I'd like to fight with Lord Stark again.." But- "I am hoping they don't need us, however. I would really like to see my wife again. And your good sister."

"And have your suspicions confirmed?" Einar teases gently. He nods to the update. All told he's in the camp of those wanting to go home. If Pyke can be taken without them then all the better really. "I guess we're back to wait and see then. I spoke to Lord Mallister briefly yesterday, and he hadn't heard anything either." Although to be fair, Martyn has been a tad out of the loop of late. With Charger getting restless, Rae seems to be heading the same way, feedback no doubt. Looking between the two animals for a moment he then turns back to Anders, "even they feel it.”

"Shush, Chance.. just settle, and this'll be done." Anders looks behind, where Einar stands, his brows rising. "Does he seem off back there? Foot sore?" All that needs to be done to test that is to push on the back of the foot. "All this dampness can't be good for them either." He pats his horse's head, but the destrier pulls his head up, shifting his weight. "Cousin, maybe I'll check him for you. He's starting to get a little-" Explosive? " -restless." Time to leave them alone…

Einar thinks back for a moment, he's only actually got so far as one of the back hooves but certainly hadn't noticed anything off about it. "Nothing seemed amiss," he starts, figuring he can fill in the exact details later given he's rapidly coming to the same conclusion about the wisdom of continuing. "Let me just grab the pick so he doesn't stand on it." Mind already turning to the promised warmth of the tent, and his dry cloak he turns to gather the grooming tools.

Chance is agitated, and when his hoof is let down, he shifts his weight. The movement, the stress of the other horses bleeding in to him, and just.. whatever horsie excuse that can be found, the horse first rears on its ties before he puts his head down to buck, kicking out. After the kick out, Chance rears again, pulling back on the ties and one snaps under the pressure. His head shakes, and again, back hooves go flying- not in any concentrated direction, but just.. out.
Anders backs a step in alarm immediately, his voice calling out, 'Ho!' to the horse before he gets another word out, "Cousin!" then, "Get away!" At the horse's rear and the ensuing fight against the ties and halter, he pulls the ropes down, yelling at his horse. "Get down.. ho! Stop!"

Einar is not what one might call slow, but it seems a bucking horse is quicker. He'd started to move at his cousin's first call, diving to the side, away from his own beast, and not waiting for the more explicit warning probably saved him cracked ribs. Or worse. As it is though, he almost makes it clear when he hears a loud crack and then his right shin erupts into pain. There's a brief non-verbal vocalisation before he lands and rolls half a turn as he lands to protect himself. His hands cover his head to ward against further kicks as he instinctively curls on his side, even though he should be far enough away now.

Anders works to get the horse under control, but Chance is not accepting any correction. Instead, then, he grabs hold of the creature and pulls him forward, pushing him into the small paddock where other horses are kept. Once that's done, he looks around, searching.. before he finds his kinsman on the ground, curled up.. "Einar.." and he rushes to the man's side, "Cousin.. are you-"

With no immediate sign of more flying hooves, and indeed, the sound of Chance being moved, Einar starts to uncurl. As Anders arrives, the younger Flint rolls slowly onto his back, face grimaced in pain. It takes him a moment, and a false start that’s abandoned due to the movement-induced pain before he answer. "Cousin." His voice is pained, but steady enough for now. Another couple of steadying breaths and he lifts his head up a little to survey the damage.

Anders looks down and he pauses.. "Oh- stay put.." Taking his coat off his shoulders to wrap it around the younger man's leg, he pulls it tight around to give it some support. "He got you.." As if he needs to say that? "Just.." Setting himself down, he's working to help the man gain his feet without actually using that leg.. which means Anders has to essentially lift the man. "Okay.. let's try on three.."

Einar attempts to bury the back of his skull into the soft earth, thankfully devoid of rocks or hoof picks, as Anders straps his leg. More than one choice word is bitten back before the process is complete and once done, he opens his eyes again, staring at the clouds above for a moment or two. Only once the pain has subsided a little does he nod his agreement to the plan, basically letting Anders take the lead.

Anders takes the lead, then, and on the three-count, "One.. two.. three.." lifts the man as best he can, getting under, straining to be sure he doesn't aggrevate any other wounds that are still healing. "You'll get knighted for this.." Seems dumb enough, which is proper enough, right? "When we have you on your feet, we'll get you drunk, set the bone, then I'll have you knighted."
Einar spots the distraction attempt, or at least what he hopes, fervently, is a distraction attempt and runs with it for now. "You gave your word Cousin," he replies, slowly, doing his utmost not to catch on any of the words. Progress to vertical could best be described as unpleasant, but now he's there, with his weight mostly on Anders, it's not so bad. Or maybe that's just the adrenalin introducing itself. "The drink though, that I wouldn't mind."

"I promised that I wouldn't knight you for battle. I never said I wouldn't do it for being in the way of a horse's back hoof. Particularly mine," Anders jokes. Now, however, with his squire on his feet, he supports the man's weight. Now, they can move a little more. "I'm sure we have some in our spoils. It'll be Ironborn, but it could be better than it sounds." He chuckles, and leads his cousin to his pavilion to sit down on a proper chair. "Stay put, and I'll get a healer. Or the Charlton's maester.. regardless, it needs to be set. And, I'll get you a drink.. or three."