R U [ I ] N E D

To Free or Not to Free, That Is the Question

As the two boys stumbled into the clearing beyond the trees where the blonde Runeholder awaited them, they were stunned and taken aback by what they found. Brady's eyes narrowed in confusion, his ominous feeling in no way seeming to have come to fruition. "A boy?" His voice sounded as if he used the last ounce of strength he had to push the words past the barrier of his lips.

Dangling from a low-hanging tree branch before Phoena was a young boy tangled up in a net likely meant to catch a large animal of prey. One would have expected such a trap to be checked at least daily, but the filthy state of the child suggested otherwise. "What are you just standing there for?" Callan hissed, breaking Phoena from her stupor. "He's suffering. We need to help him."

"It's just-" Phoena started, her voice trailing of listlessly as she gawked. Callan shook his head with a huff, leaving Brady to lean against a tree for support.
"I'll be back to check that," he assured the telepath, gesturing at the bandages covering Brady's chest, "once I get the kid back on solid ground."

Brady nodded, smiling through his own pain. "His sleeping thoughts are muddled, but even so, I can tell that he's suffering. Don't worry about me too much. I can wait." A brief smile crossed Callan's face, and for once he could appreciate Brady's talents since they weren't trying to crack open his own mind like a chestnut. Phoena still stood rooted to the ground as he approached her.

"Really?" He shot her a look of disdain, finding her actions- or lack thereof- to be truly shameless. "What makes you think that leaving a child like that for any longer is okay? Aren't you supposed to be the brave one? Look at the kid. He couldn't hurt you if he wanted to."

"This has nothing to do with bravery," the blonde took a defensive stance with her words, "I don't like this situation. Something just isn't quite right. I think we should-"

"And I think it's high time that you stop ordering the rest of us around. We didn't elect you as a leader," Callan cut her off sharply. "Now give me one of your swords so I can cut the boy down."

Anger flashed behind the emerald of her cool expression. "No, I won't." Her countenance twisted into a snarl, and she stepped back away from the Grand Commander's son. "I refuse to have you use my weapon like that."

"Shameless," Callan hissed under his breath, digging through his pack for a small flip knife. It would take much longer to hack away at the thick ropes compared to a few swift swings with one of Phoena's swords, but if the girl refused to cooperate, he has his own methods. He flicked the blade open and started sawing away to the net without so much as a glance back toward the others. Despite that, he could tell that Phoena had gone to Brady's side as he could hear her fussing over him like a mother hen, offering water and medicine to dull his fever.

"Just sit, please." He heard Brady beg and nearly chuckled, but restrained himself, knowing that it wouldn't be smart to upset Phoena any more than he already had. Each band of rope he cut away recoiled toward the branch that supported it with a satisfying 'thwick,' and each band gone meant the young boy trapped inside was one step closer to freedom. As the last rope fell loose, Callan caught the boy as he dropped from above. He tossed the net away, watching the kid with concern.

While the boy hadn't woken up, he was somewhat responsive, wriggling in Callan's arms with a groan. Faint murmurs escaped the boy's lips but much of what he said was nonsensical rubbish. Callan wasn't sure if the kid was even speaking a proper language. Cradling the child, who couldn't have been more than eight years of age, he cautiously reapproched the others. "Is he okay?" Brady asked, while Phoena glowered silently beside him, eying the young boy as if he was an omen of immense misfortune.

"I think he will be after he wakes up and gets something to eat and drink." Callan guessed that it was nearing a week since the boy's last proper meal based on his sickly state. But not only was he suffering from severe malnutrition, his tiny body was severely scarred and slashes- too deep to have been made by the ropes and too fresh to have happened before his capture- oozed blood. He fished a salve to stop the bleeding from one of the bags and bandaged the boy up as he had with Brady earlier that day. "We'll be able to do more for him once he wakes up," Callan murmured, still holding the gauze in his hands as he leaned the boy gently against a nearby tree then crouched low to the ground to take a look at Brady.