Fort Weyr - Shadowed Underbrush
Somewhere out in Fort's vast forests…

The rain, pouring hard and fast, hasn't lessened one iota from where it had begun the night before. Dark clouds blot out the sky, as weak sunlight manages to slip through to the forest's ground. It is difficult to piece out movement among all of the underbrush, but movement there is. Animals have taken the better part of valor and found shelter, thus, only one creature moves. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, Hazelon stumbles through the undergrowth. There is only a token attempt to hide his passage. He flees from what is behind him, not keen to be caught again by that which he works to escape. His bow, hangs in one hand, string wet with the rain and utter ineffective.

Being this deep in the forest has limited the use of dragons, but they are still linger, ever watching and just out of reach it would seems. A large brown dragon is indeed up in the sky following his riders steps in a sense and keeping a close eye of the forest below him. That rider is Abigail and she is well schooled in how to track people, animals you name is through forest. The rain has done little to stop her from tracking, the rider found some trail a good distance back and choose to follow it and see what could have made it. As for the rain it doesn't bother her, flight jacket and a cloak keeping her mostly warm and dry. She has a bow in hand, arrows tucked away in the quiver, though she can get to them quickly if needs be. A trio of firelizard follow within the trees as well, a large gold that is perched upon a branch and looking out through the wet forest for some movement to catch her attention perhaps.

If it is movement she seeks, it is what she will find. Hazleon stumbles forward, breaking out of the brush and into a small clearing. The sudden openness of space causes him no small shortage of disorientation and his legs fail him, and send him right into the mud. It mixes with the blood still stained upon his shirt, covering some of the stains. A shiver grasps his smaller-than-average frame, and he'll remain there, kneeling in the mud as she attempts to reorient himself.

The gold firelizard is keen to picking up movement, her swirling gaze snaps towards something stumbling out from the bushes that are a dozen yard from her. A low warble escapes her before she is up and heading that way to try and get a better sight of the object in question. Even while the lizard doesn't have answer to give Abigail the brown rider is moving in that direction to check it out for herself. Firelizards don't always give the full answer after all. The clearing is still a good distance off, and the rider pauses to check a few broken branches from bushes here and there that proves something has went this way that could be what she is looking for. With that in mind she pulls an arrow from her quiver as she continues to move forward, slowly and carefully as she checks the place out.

Hazelon remains in the mud for long moments, shaking off the confusion brought on by the fever which has only grown in his hours of moving through the wet forest. To call him disoriented would be a gross understatement. Above him a bronze firelizard, only just-mature, comes to rest on the tree. He lets out a low chirp of warning- something comes. Too confused is he to understand the difference between what might be a friend or a foe. The sound is enough, however, to force him back to his feet and forward again. He needs a place to hide. Eyes track the small clearing and land upon a fallen treen. There, perhaps, behind it. Movement is almost a crawl as he steps towards it, and lowers himself into the mud again behind it. Hide. Let them past. All would be well.

The gold firelizard leaps up onto a high branch of a tree near the clearing right near the edge which gives the gold a better view of the area. Her head tilts to the side and she catches the movement, a low warble escaping her as she wiggles about on her perch and turns to watch as something is crawling across the ground it seems. Perhaps it is something important for her person to check out. There is a slight bit of noise as a brown and bronze firelizard appear at either side of the gold and the trio continues to watch as the sights are being sent to the brownrider. Abigail is making her way slowly towards the clearing, careful as she can be not to walk into any mud puddles, or anything that will cause noise enough to give herself away to the one she is 'hunting'. The clearing is soon caught sight of and she crouches behind a tree looking out while lifting her head slightly, her pale gaze drifting here and there.

Stillness claims Hazelon as he settles behind that log. Images filter down to him from his young lizard- but they are fragmented from his age and the fog within Hazelon's mind. He'll lay there, attempting to suppress a ragged cough which seeks to erupt through his lips and give away his position. Fear has tightened around him, and with a sudden clarity of thought he realizes that his knife remains in the body of the holdless man left hours before. A hand pulls an arrow from the quiver, moving slowly. The bow, wet as its string is is useless, but perhaps, if whomever pursued came close enough… Now to simply… wait.

The trio of firelizards remain on the perch, they have a good vantage point and are sending images to the rider of a log, and something perhaps there. Abigail is lucky that her firelizards are fully grown, and that she has a gold to help with such things. The brownrider shifts slowly forward, though not to the outside into the clearing instead she makes her way along the edge of the forest, better to have some cover then move out into an open clearing. While doing this it takes her some time before she catches sight of the log where this 'thing' is suppose to be near, perhaps it has moved on already?

It is boldness of almost-grown which causes the scrappy little bronze firelizard to break cover, winging through the rain to settle the next branch over from the trio in the tree. Another chirp, inquiry this time, with not specific question attached. Down below Hazelon catches sight of the firelizard and curses mentally. He'd been told to stay hidden. Off of his back the former drudge turns, shifting onto his stomach. He'll have to rely upon his own sight, and not that of the unreliable lizard. Just the slightest fraction he'll lift himself up, taking a quick look at the clearing before lightheartedness forces him down again, to rest his head against the muddy dirt.

A hiss breaks free from the older gold firelizard as the strange young bronze approaches, she doesn't like strange lizards, especially when he is 'working'. Though this is a clear answer to Abigail that someone is around, and hidden at that, that bronze is not a wild lizard after all. The movement even if it is faint is caught from the log and she smirks a touch, so close yet so far from the prize. Who else would be hiding in the middle of a muddy forest after all? The rider pushes forward slowly along the path she is making, not out in the open, and while she attempts to keep quiet there are at times brushes of underbrush which could possibly be caught, if a person is listening for such things.

The bronze, catching the waves of dislike streaming from the gold takes flight again, and disappearing completely into the forest. Waves of dizziness spread through Hazelon, and he finally come to the realization that now he is down it will take a supreme effort of will to get back up. So for now, he will remains there, forehead pressed to the ground and wait, listening. The sound of the rain muffles any particular sounds his pursuer might make, so he simply remains as alert as the fever will allow. Waiting.

The trio of firelizards are settled upon the branch as they watch sending images back to the rider at times. Abigail moves along slowly until there is a shape that she catches sight of and she lifts her bow slightly, protection more than anything at the moment as she isn't fully sure if it is the one she is looking for or someone else perhaps. "Put yer hands up slowly." Is soon heard, voice firm and unwavering. She'll take a chance to see if that form at the log is indeed the person or well just something else.

The voice that calls out isn't one Hazelon recognizes- but at the moment, that isn't particularly hard to do. He presses closer to the ground, cursing the fact that if someone is calling, they must know he is here. Eyes scan the ground between himself and the edge of the forest farthest away from where the voice calls from. "I'll not be goin' back." He seeks to distract the caller with words as he begins to pull himself, slowly, and keeping behind the protection of the log, towards the forest. It doesn't even occur to him for a moment that the persuer is from the weyr. It has to be from the camp.

Abigail does indeed know the form that she sees near the log, she isn't /that/ far away now, half hidden with some brush to help break up her form. "There is no choice, yer surrounded and ye will return." She doesn't say where though not knowing about some camp that he could have came from it seems. The movement is caught more as he starts to move towards the forest and she shifts slightly letting an arrow fly that slams into a tree in front of him by at least a foot. Another arrow is pulled from her quiver while she stands, this arrow is pulled back and she is aiming for the person now. "Stand still unless ye want a new hole in yer gut."

Hazelon stops his forward movement when the arrow thuds in to the word before him. "I'm not lookin' t' be dead." He calls out, his voice taking on bravado that is not really there. For he is afraid, very very afraid. For all his efforts, this might just be the final end. His arms shakes as he pushes himself upwards, providing a better target should the speaker choose to speak again. Perhaps if he could draw them closer… his hand closes around his arrow shaft. She just needed to get close.

Abigail shakes her head slightly while she slowly but surely makes her way forward closer to where Hazelon is. Her bow is kept level upon the other, arrow still easy to see, and will be just as easy to use If needs be. "I don't want to kill ye. If I dan't have ta." This said with a faint tone while she nods her head slightly to the bow she sees with him. "Drop it, and any other weapons that ye have." So far she hasn't seen the arrow he has hold of.

"Right. 'n Ustrr's gonna be lettin' me come back, jus' like that." He spits at the ground, his dark eyes looking up to meet Abigail's. There's anger there- anger over his lot and having been caught. The bow is tosses away from him, and then the quiver shrugged off to join it at Abigail's feet. That single arrow though, what might save his life, is kept tucked behind his back. Water drips down his face, and now, standing, the blood stains across his clothing are easier to see, even if they are streaked across with mud. He waits. She has to come closer.

Abigail lifts a brow while she watches the other, a boy at that and she smirks slightly. "Who..?" Is questioned with a faint tone, the name doesn't ring any bells to her. There is someone else then that he is talking about. She kicks the quiver to the side so she does not trip over it while she nods her head to a tree. "Move over there, hands up." She states once more with a firm tone. As for being close, she's close enough, her shot could do him some damage, though at the same time he could most likely get a hit on her if she isn't careful. Still she isn't your normal rider, life as a guard has given her plenty of training for close quarter combat. "Ye give me no trouble then I'll give ye none. Understand?" He is wanted a live, and even more so now in her mind.

Hazelon gauges the distance between her and himself. Perhaps if it wasn't so dark he would see the knot identifying her as from the weyr, and not Ustrr's camp. He snorts, figuring that her denial of knowing Ustrr is some attempt to trick him. Distance is eyed, but no, she is still too far away. She has to come closer. His frame shakes, the effort to remain standing in his already injured and fevered state taking a toll. But he will not return. Not to that. Dying also is not on his agenda da*n it. He turns himself where she has directed, careful to keep the arrow hidden from direct gaze. The movement is followed by a stumble, only half faked, which lands him on one knee. She'll have to come closer. So much closer.

Abigail wants an answer but none comes and she glowers a bit at this. She knows Th'ero will want answer as well, so is not that eager to push it at the moment seeing how he will be questioned fully once back at the weyr. She watches as he turns and still she has not caught sight of the arrow, the darkness is helping him to some degree. Once he stumbles she grumbles slightly while taking another step forward. "Lift yer bloody arms." She states with a firm tone, the rider steps forward once more, about two arms length away now.

Stillness overcomes Hazelon as he tenses. It was now or never. If he didn't move, his body might just shut down right here and now. A deep breath, and Hazelon twists on that knee, springing towards the woman. "I'll not go back." He comes out as a determined hiss, as that arrow he had kept so hidden is pushed towards her stomach. Taller than he she is, but it doesn't matter. This is his last chance to escape. If he had full control over his mind he might notice the weakness of his desperate lunge, or how it is just slightly off center.

Abigail should have seen this coming, perhaps she fell into the same mindset that this was but a child there for a few moments. Never the less the movement is caught sight of and she twists to the side, the attack missing her stomach which would have for certain caused her some issues, though it does catch her in the side. The arrow has to go through her flightjacket which is enough to keep it from doing any severe damage. She reaches out swiftly with her left hand and makes to try and grab hold of the boy's wrist that had hold of the arrow, if she gets hold of him she will twist his arm hard to the side. NO sound escape her of pain, though there is a rather large brown dragon that is sweeping down over the clearing and bellowing out with a mighty roar as he lands. The clearly isn't that large, his tail lashing enough to cause some trees behind him to fall and thus give him at least enough room to stand there as he twists around, large head and swirling red eyes settling upon Hazelon.

Desperation can only push a body so far, and Hazelon is tapped out. When her hand grasps his wrist and yanks it so roughly it tears open the bloody gash in his arm. Spots dance before his eyes as his body cries out for the relief of unconsciousness. Stubbornness keeps him awake though, as his fevered mind attempts to make sense of the sudden appearance of the brown dragon. "Rider?" the words slip out through his lips, as crushing relaxation of who he had just attacks comes down. There would be no sanctuary there now. He trembles, his whole body taken with the effort as he slumps downwards, this time the fight draining out of him as the pain continues to lance through his now freely bleeding arm.

Niumdreoth is hovering, growling, snarling, if anyone ever saw a mad dragon before they would say that this brown was the most fierce and most eager to defend his rider. Though all dragons do that for their riders after all. Abigail is quiet, her pale gaze settled on the boy as he cries out, the fresh blood seen and a faint breath escapes her. The brown dragon clams slightly, low rumbles escaping him. "Aye, rider." She states with a thin tone while gripping hold of the boy's arm still and not letting go while she shoulders her bow with her free hand and shifts to yank the arrow free from her side only because she knows it wasn't that deep, still the movement hurt none the less and the brown snarls out once more. With a hissing mutter Abbey pulls free from straps leather for use to tie up Hazelon's hands, they already have loops in them and she pushed it down around his left hand and yanks the end of it so that it is tight. With him slumped downwards she pulls his arm down that she has hold of and pushes a knee into it to pin his arm to his back while she makes a grab for his other hand. "Would have went better for ye iffn ye didn't do what ye did."

Ther is little fight left in Hazelon. The pain lancing through his arm and upwards through his body is enough to leave him gasping, and clutching to consciousness by mental fingertips. He shakes visibly, a reaction to fever, pain and chill. "Aye," is about all he can gasp out in response to the rider's remark. When she jerks for his other hand it'll come easily enough, even as tears finally begin to fall. It was all over. The end. There'd be no one to speak for him- not after attacking a rider. He hadn't known, couldn't have known… One question remains, why was a rider chasing him?

Abigail shifts and looks to the fallen boy, watching him a few moments before she moves a hand to lightly touch his face. A slight frown seen as she feels how warm he is, a fever for certain. Perhaps it is lucky that Hazelon had Abbey be the one to find him, she is a mother, and let's face it she isn't as a hard ass as she use to be in the past. Especially when the boy is crying. "Come now. Let's get ye warm." Is murmured out while she moves to pull the boy up and help him towards Niumdreoth. Once there she'll lean him against the brown's side and go about pulling a blanket out from a bag on the straps and works on wrapping it around Hazelon.

He jerks away from the hand on his face, working to pull back those tears. But he's at a loss. For the first time in his life he isn't sure which mask to pull on. Toughness has only landed him in trouble, and passive after that outbreak would only trigger alarm bells for the rider. When she helps him to his feet he stumbles upwards and follows. The warm hide of the dragon is almost a relief, though he cannot allow himself to relax. Who knew when one of the beasts would attempt to bite? He had just stabbed his rider. The blanket is an unexpected mercy, and he looks upwards at the rider, a simple question falling from his lips- "Why?"

Niumdreoth makes no move to bite at Hazelon, even though he wants to, a swirling eye is level on the boy that is for sure. Abigail pulls the blanket around the boy and she watches him for a few moments at the question. "Because, it is the right thing to do." Even after he stabbed her, even after he set the Weyr upside down to try and find him after he attacked Rayathess. The trio of firelizards move to settle upon the straps of the brown and croon down at Hazelon in a curious manner. "I'm taking ye back to Fort Weyr. Ye attacked someone and must answer for the charges." She figures it is good for him to know why she is taking him back if he didn't already figure it out. There is a dull ache in her side and some blood upon her jacket. She turns and is searching for something else, a bit of bandage which she pulls her shirt up enough to press against the wound, to keep it in place she tucks her shirt in on that side so there is some pressure upon the wound.

With his hands secured behind his back Hazelon cannot draw that blanket in closer, nor truly revel in the first blanket that has encircled him since he had to go with Lyreh or risk dying on the spot. The charge against him is ambiguous enough that Hazelon misunderstands. In his mind, there is only one attack he is responsible for which would concern the weyr- the one upon the rider standing beside her. "I did no' know." Soft his his voice and he looks up, perhaps there would be other mercy. "I would no''ve attacked a rider if'n I'd known."

Abigail lifts a brow as she hears this and looks back to him. "The charges upon wish I hunted for ye deal with another ye attacked with an arrow and left him in great harm. Why did ye attack Rayathess?" The questioned is there while she goes about pulling out a set of straps to help make sure Hazelon will be secure upon the dragon for the trip back to the weyr, she won't be losing him. Niumdreoth shifts letting his tail curl around Hazelon at the side, which offers him more warmth, but also used to make sure he doesn't try to run off while his rider is busy with things and can't watch the boy fully.

Silence meets Abigail's abrupt question. The extra warmth from the dragon is welcomed and he sinks downwards, the blanket slithering off as he hits the ground within the confines of the tail. "The Stonehaven?" Disbelief mingles with confusion as Hazelon attempts to understand the charge laid at his feet. "I… I," He isn't able to get out the words, and instead allows his shoulders to slump. What did she mean, why did he attack Rayathess? His mind, as best as it is able, twines back to the attack, trying to see, to understand. Did he attack? No, it was Lyreh's people. He'd shot one of them, that much was sure.

Abigail doesn't know of any group of people that did the attacking, all she knows is that Hazelon was linked to it somehow from what she was told so that is what she is going on. She goes about hooked on the extra lines to the straps on her dragon while Niumdreoth keeps a close eye on the boy. "Ye don't have ta tell me. There will be plenty of others asking for answers, which ye best given them or…" Well she doesn't know what could happen if no answers are given. She turns and reaches down to slip her arm under his and with Niumdreot's helpful tail the pair get Hazelon up onto the brown's back and she is busy getting the straps on him.

"I did no' attack him." The words are whispered under his breath, too numb now to fight Abigail at all. He allows himself to be pushed upwards onto the brown's back and sits there limply as he is strapped on. What had been a cold knot of hopelessness falls even further. Rayathess must have died, and there had been no witnesses. It was the only way… surely the Stonehaven would have… but he must be dead. Those tears begin again, as the last of Hazelon's hopes that maybe, if he could just get back to the weyr, everything would be okay, are dashed. Only pure stubborn instance keeps him awake now, though he seriously considers allowing himself to slip into the blackness that waits right at the edge of his eyes.

Abigail drops down to pick up the blanket and once she is back up near him she tucks it around the boy, there is a pause as she hears that, sees the tears and she is quiet while watching him a few moments. It tugs at her heart for a few moments before she shifts and settles into the straps herself and with a silent word Niumdreoth is up into the air heading back to the weyr. Bugles escape the brown as he sends back signals to Th'ero and the others that they have caught the boy and are returning!