|Summary:||Tiaryn Flint wakes up injured, exhausted and dehydrated, but not alone.|
|Related Logs:||An Oak Still Stands|
|The Northern Coast Road|
|Deep into the night along the coast of the northern Riverlands, the winds blow hard and cold. A contingent of almost 200 Flint men travel, most on foot but there are some cavalry at the head.|
|Tuesday January 3, 289|
The gentle lope of the horses has never stopped, it becoming all the more important to keep moving and possibly get to any other escapees, or protect against any other raiders that might be following. Relcutant to let Tia go while she's still so cold and suffering, Cordelya has tucked in with her on a cart bed and they are being pulled by the gentle gray mare that Corrie normally rides. The small Reed is half asleep now, arm and leg wrapped around Tia and a small skin of water lying at the side of both of them. She hums, very, very softly, a tune about the Old Gods that Tiaryn might distantly remember from childhood.
Unconscious only goes so far, doesn't it? Tia has remained breathing, and so far that is a good start. She is cold and so obviously unconscious in that she's not even trying to get warm, just laying still, or sitting, where she is. And yet, a flicker of her eyes, lids the first things to move. A slow sigh of breath, and then an abrupt movement as Tiaryn tries to sit bolt upright, having no clue where she is or what is going on. The panic is still there though, the thought that she has to flee, and when she realizes that there are arms and legs around her, panic begins to build to sheer terror, a whimper first, but breath gathering for a scream, even as her eyes open but do not yet register what they see.
Half asleep herself, but only half, Corrie is pretty darn attentitive to the woman below her. The woman she's doing everything possible to keep alive, including giving her own body heat and constant attention. It's the best the lady knows how. She might be well read and somewhat trained, but she's no Maester. "Shh…. shhh… Calm, Lady Tiaryn… you're safe. You're safe!" Corrie insists gently, careful to rub her fingertips over the woman's opposite arm, where there are no bandages to be disturbed, unlike the mess of the woman's chest and stomach. "You are with the Flints… We found you on the road."
Expecting the foul breath and horrible visage of an Ironborn Reaver, it takes a moment for Tia's brain to connect the face and words she's seeing with reality. She does hold off that scream, her breath letting out in a much quieter exhale, at the exhortation to stay quiet. The word safe helps a lot too. She stares for a long moment, still not placing Cordelya's face and name. After a moment or two, it clicks that she heard the name Flint. "Flint - yes, but this is not their hall. Unless they have changed it greatly since I was last there. And then, I must be dreaming," she says next, swallowing as she tries to moisten a parched throat. "Or dead. But this is not at all what I imagined death to be."
It's quite lucky that they weren't riding hard for the south, too many men on foot to move fast, it means the horse is at an easy lope and while it's not a comfortable thing to sit up and balance on the cart, it's not impossible either. Corrie shivers a bit as she half sits enough, shifting the cloak enough to just wrap around Tia's body and fall off her shoulders so the woman doesn't fall to chill. Once she's sitting enough, she grabs for that skin that had been sitting close just for this reason. "Drink, first… please. Your body has no moisture in it. You are lucky not to have died of bloodloss alone." Water equals moisture which makes blood, right? It makes sense to Corrie. "And no. We found you on the road. We were… we are riding south to help. We are quite aways from the Finger, Tia." Corrie's voice is light, soothing, not like she's talking to a child but she's keeping something sweeter and softer in her tone than she would in normal conversation.
And quite a ways from Tall Oaks as well, though Tia's travel slowed given her condition. She winces as the cart continues along its way, a small bounce over a slightly uneven spot calling her wounds to her attention. "It - I - Ironborn," she says, but she does pause to drink some of the water, greedy for it once the first drops hit her throat. That takes a few minutes of time, Tia desperate for the life bringing liquid. "They surrounded Tall Oaks," she says, after a moment. "A lot of them - Saro came up with a plan to try to get some of us out, but I don't - I saw Seryl fall and - " The wave of sheer pain that rushes through her now has very little to do with the physical wounds.
Cordelya helps her to drink as best she can, though her hand slightly chokes the neck of the skin so Tia isn't overfilling herself too fast, but is taking sips at a time. Once she's done, Corrie puts the skin back down. She should call for Einar, but until the lady has herself somewhat together, Corrie is relcutant to expose her to more people. So the young Reed sinks back down onto the cart, wrapping the cloak around both of them again unless Tia fights her. She shakes her head slowly, a sad ache in her eyes, "You… you were the only that we found. Riding a small, dark brown horse. I am so…. So sorry, Tia…"
Small brown - "But my horse was grey," Tia says, though then her breath catches again. "But they knocked me off and I grabbed the reins of the first horse I saw. I don't know whose it is." She moves her arms now, checking for the small packets sewn into her dress. Not that she explains that, but she does it, what with there being Elinor's letters, a tiny bit of coin and not much else there. That brings a bit of relief as she feels the paper and the coin, knowing she at least has that. "I saw Ser Baylor, one of Lady Elinor's knights - he was free, and he stopped to shoot at the ironborn who had captured me, preventing me from getting back on my horse. It worked. And I got free, but … " A long pause, and a " - he did not." The memories are all jumbled, and a lot she didn't see, too busy trying to get out. She moves to stare at Cordelya, just a bit, and then her brain connects. "Corrie?"
Cordelya might not always be entirely in touch with reality, but she's often well in touch with -people-. She's good at listeing. Caring. Letting people say what they need, and so while Tia gets the breathless story out so quickly, Corrie just lays there and holds her, letting her own body heat sink through the Camden lady's frame, a protective elder sister almost, even if she is by far the younger. "Yes, it's Corrie… Anders's at the front of the line. They're all riding south to help, to do what they can. Your goodbrother is here, though. Just to the side, on his horse. He wanted to be near when you woke but… you can say when you are ready. Just… lay here. Relax. You are safe with us, I swear." Corrie's light, soft voice offer soothingly.
"Corrie." That brings back memories to say the least. And hints of - family. Even if not exactly the family she grew up with. Still, it's something. And right now, Tia clings to it. She can't quite physically cling, given her wounds, but she looks for one of Corrie's hands, to hold on to, needing to just hold on. Maybe next time she wakes up she'll believe she's safe. Right now she's still a little bit cold, thirsty and in pain. "It hurts, Corrie," she says next, that being the primary issue she thinks. Worse even than the cold.
Cordelya lets the woman's fingers easily find her own, and Corrie's small hand holds on tight. Tight and close. Tia can hold on as long as she needs. Corrie turns her head and presses a soft, cool lipped kiss to the side of Tia's temple, probably still warmer that Tia's skin at this moment. "Yes, luv, it's Corrie. I'm here, and I know it hurts, but we're taking care of you. You're not alone, Tia… I promise. You're not alone." Corrie whispers it into her hair, know that loneliness probably hurts worst than any injuries. The knowledge that she might be the only actual surviving member of her family. Cordelya squeezes her hand once again.
Tia knows the keep was surrounded by a lot of ironborn. She knows there were only the 10 horses that were getting out, and she knows that she heard - a lot of sounds she'd rather not have heard. She doesn't have much hope at all that anyone else got out, but she'll cling to that one little strand of hope as long as she can. "Tell Einar - later," she says, her eyes shifting closed again already. "Next time." Truthfully, sleep probably is the best thing for the wounded woman right now, but at least it is sleep now, as opposed to unconsciousness, Tiaryn a little more relaxed against her cousin-by-marriage.