Mama awoke with a start. The smell of burning plants heady in her nostrils, and the feeling of heat on her face. She was groggy, and cranky, and hurt all over.
In a daze, she took in her surroundings as they spun around her. The scent of the little creatures that had broke that jar of stinky sleepy stuff on her face was there- to her left and right. Turning with fury in a start, she makes an angry growl and a swipe at the nearest one, as it makes a frightened yelp, and scrambles away.
NO NO MAMA, DON' HIT EM!
She couldn't understand the meaning-- But she knew that sound. It was the one she really liked. The one that oozed love and affection. The one she had tried to protect the night before. The degree of happiness she felt at hearing that sound was not easy to describe-- it just filled her all over-- It totally distracted her from her attempts at catching the horrible little creatures, as she eagerly lifted her head, and sniffed, looking for him.
He wasn't hard to miss. Good and strong-- a good smell. She liked it.
It still hurt terribly to walk. Pain seethed everywhere on her, and bits of wood were sticking out of her back. It hurt with every step, but she wanted very much to be near that one. He always made everything better.
What she found did not make any sense though. It was him alright, but he was... Hanging? .. From a dead tree? He had those same bits of twisted grass lashed around his whole body, holding his front paws out to his sides, and behind him, with the trunk of the tree in his back. The twisted grass was holding him fast to there. It did not make any sense.
She plodded up to him, and looked at him expectantly. Surely had had some explanation for this--- But mostly, she was just so damn happy he was alive, and did not smell injured.
----
Jack looked down at mama worriedly. He was glad she had stopped trying to maul that bogling that had been watching over her-- The boglings in question were making confused hand gestures to the chief, who just raised his hand in acknowledgement-- indicating they should hold, and not engage.
YOU CONTROL RUMMAGE-GUT? NO CAUSE TROUBLE?! CAUSE TROUBLE-- BIG PROBLEM-- GET HURT MORE. ME NOT WANT TROUBLE-- YOU GET, TREEMAN?
nattered the little man, eyeing him warily.
Jack just groaned, then answered. It was practically a chastizement, but he was too tired really to really let the diminutive oaf really have what was on his mind.
Ain't nobody controls mama, she her own thing. Does what she wants, when she wants ta. I jus' asks nicely. She real nice though.
The look on the chief's face could curdle milk, and it made jack chuckle. Life's simple pleasures.
'Ere, I'll ask nicely fer ya-- but ya better be nicer to 'er-- Em spears ain't gonna make 'er tuh happy none-- Dun make me no happier neither-- Treatin' poor critters like at--- What's wrong wit ya? Lucky's Is can take a hint, and not try nothin-- Long as ya dont go hurtin the barr any furder--- Ya hurts mama again, I aint gun be so nice, ya'hear?
"Just shut up, and calm the bear Jack..." Breathed Linea irritably. "We have to get this settled before things get any MORE out of hand."
"I can get those out of her, and patch her up if she'll let me." interjected Dixie, noting Jack's baleful eye glowering in the direction where Linea was sitting, outside his field of vision.
He closed his eye, took a deep breath, and tried to calm his temper. Contacting her in that state would do nobody any good. After a moment, he opened it again, with a serene sparkle behind it.
Mama was full of curiosity, anticipation, and a mixed feeling he could not properly and fully identify. It was a mottled mixture of relief, joy, and general excitement, mingled with the first two, and straining through intense physical pain.
Instinctively, and without realizing it, he was asking her what happened.
She flooded his mind with dark images of raining rocks and spears, a choking cloud, an image of his unmoving, slow-breathing body, and of little plune being pummeled by rocks-- Then of her shoving him off the side of the mushroom and into the muck below, grabbing plune, sitting on the both of them, and then pain-- lots and lots of sharp pains, blossoming all over her body.
She was very very glad he was OK.
Jack felt sick to his stomach. This was not how things should be-- He was the one who should have the sticks in him, not her. He never wanted her to suffer anything else-- not after what she had already been through.
She chuffed irritably at him--- She would protect whoever, or whatever she wanted to, and nobody would tell her otherwise-- and he was important to her.
The sentiment melted him like was warm butter on hot toast, and he wanted very much to hug and nuzzle on her. She was very important to him too.
She plodded up to him, and made to stand up on her hind legs, and lean against the tree with her front paws, but he suddenly flooded the link with a strong expression that she should not--
Mama looked up at him very confused, and wounded emotionally-- why would he not want her to? Did he not like that? (she thought he did...)
It took him a moment to explain-- He wanted her to let the other person-- the one standing free, near him, to get close to her. He told her it would hurt terribly when the sticks were pulled out, but that she would help make it better. THEN she could lean on the tree, and they could nuzzle and share affection as best they could (despite the ropes), without her being hurt in the process--- He did not want her to get more injured, just to comfort him.
Mama looked at the woman, then back at him, wanting more assurances. Jack made promissory feelings, and assurances, as best he could translate them.
She huffed, then laid down at his feet, waiting for the crazy 2 legged thing to do its work.