The Temple Infirmary has many cots with guards wounded during their duties – most wolves, but one of them a fox – in particular, Ensign Jarik, who has plenty of time to mull over recent events as he lies and stares at the ceiling.

The room is especially quiet. There are no murmurings, there are no chatty conversations. Word of the great tragedy has apparently spread quickly, and the effect on morale is inescapable.

Jarik rasps, "Guard, could you come here please? *cough*"

One of the wolves stands there for a moment, staring intently at a nondescript section of the wall. After a few moments, he snaps out of it, and glances in Jarik's direction. He shakes his head, then marches over. "What is it, Ensign?"

Jarik strains to speak, "Could you tell Lady Azhtar I'd like to see her? Please?"

The guard blinks. "Azhtar?" He looks around, then stoops over, adding in a loud whisper. "You – are you mad? It's no secret about you and her, you know. You're lucky Arch Inquisitor Majoris Melchizedek didn't relieve you of your head! Are you about to provoke him even more when he hears of this? At a time such as /this/? Do you expect him to be merciful?"

Jarik swallows a few times, "I… I… don't even know what happened… I need to find out… know what happened. Please. You're welcome to stay here as proof of what I'm saying. Please… " There's honest fear in the fox's eyes.

The wolf stands back up straight again, worry and disbelief creasing his brow. He regards Jarik for a long moment, then mutters, "It's your hide." With that, he turns on his heel and strides out, pausing at the door to talk with one of the other guards before heading on out into the corridor.

Even longer moments pass. One of the patients is taken out. A priest applies new bandages to a wounded wolf a couple of cots down. A sobbing priest walks down the corridor, passing the doorway, then disappearing again. But for the most part, the time is still and quiet, providing not enough distractions.

At long last, the wolf guard appears in the doorway once more, accompanied by a golden-furred, green-eyed cheetah with long, tightly-curled black hair, dressed in an airy white dress and drape. She looks about the chamber, then askance to the guard who accompanies her … then spies Jarik.

The fox's heart is almost audible. It pounds within his chest.

The cheetah reaches one hand to her mouth, then crumples next to the wolf – then struggles with him as he tries to bear her forward toward the cot. Her eyes are full of … fear? It must be. It is certainly nothing like an expression Jarik has observed in those eyes before.

"Come on, it's just to see the Ensign. He isn't going to hurt you," the wolf tries to say in a soothing voice, though it comes out more like a growl.

Jarik's voice is shaky, "I… needed to speak to you. Right now, more than ever I wish I could understand you. I need to know… just what happened the other night."

Jarik says, "I'll keep it just simple yes and no questions… unless perhaps you can write?"

The wolf forces the cheetah down into the chair beside the cot, and places a restraining hand on her shoulder. The cheetah cannot meet Jarik's gaze. She stares intently at the floor.

Jarik coughs a few times then speaks, "M'lady… I'm no threat to you… I can't even stand… Please, at least look at me… "

Azhtar swallows hard, and forces her chin up, to gaze unsteadily at Jarik.

Jarik says, "Can you write?"

The wolf says, "Of course she can. She's Melchizedek's personal secretary."

The cheetah looks up to the wolf, then back to Jarik, bows her head, and nods.

Jarik looks to the wolf, "Could you get her some paper and a pen?"

"And hold her down at the same time?" the wolf grumbles. He glances over at another wolf who has come to watch. "Make yourself useful, eh?" he growls. The second wolf heads off and comes back with some scraps of parchment and a charcoal pencil.

Putting the scraps on a small flat board, the first wolf hands them – with the pencil – to Azhtar.

Azhtar fidgets with the charcoal pencil, spinning it around in the fingers of her right hand.

Jarik takes a deep breath, "M'lady… what happened that night? I… remember drinking the wine… I remember the room swirling, memories I thought long buried flooding into my mind. My little sister… me, Jarik Fireclaw… When I still had that surname… " he closes his eyes, "And Alis… my beautiful Alis." The foxes amber eyes try to lock with Azhtar's, "I remember nothing else… What happened?"

The pencil doesn't move on the paper. The cheetah matches the fox's gaze, but her lip quivers.

Jarik tries to reach to the cheetah, "Please… "

The wolf slaps the cheetah on the ear. "Can't you listen? He's asking you a question."

Jarik looks at the guard, "Please… don't hurt her… "

Azhtar turns back, ears flushed. She grips the pencil in her hand, and starts to write … or tries to. She pauses often … then just stops, staring at the paper.

The wolf looks at the paper curiously. "Hmm." He raises an eyebrow. "Looks pretty incriminating, if you ask me."

Jarik's whole body seems to be trembling with fear. Any length of time is just too much…

Jarik's jaw clenches at the wolf's words.

The cheetah just clasps the board and parchment to herself, hugging them tight and leaning over, almost adopting a fetal position. She looks distressed, to say the least.

Jarik says, "M'lady… please… I need to know."

"Said you shared her bed. That's a polite way of – well – " the wolf rolls his eyes. "None of my business, of course."

Jarik says, "M'lady, I would like to read it… please."

Jarik looks to the guard, straining as he does so, "It means alot of things… "

The cheetah abruptly shoots out of the chair, breaking free of the wolf's grasp. She bolts out of the room with surprising speed, and the wolf hasn't even a chance of catching her. "Dagh take it!" he curses as he looks down the hallway.

The wolf grumbles, marching back. "Well, I don't know what your point was with /that/, but if you were intending for her to back you up, I guess that's not going to work too well."

Jarik says, "Sir… what did it say?"

The wolf picks up the parchment, and clears his throat, giving a warning look to all the peeping toms and eavesdroppers in on this particular little dialogue.

"It says here … and I'm pretty sure she can write better than THIS … 'You shared my bed, and my head ached with wine. I have done wrong and am ashamed. I cannot face – '" The wolf shrugs, "And then it just goes ZZZZrrrrrr," he makes a scribbling gesture in a line in front of him, "off the page."

The wolf crumples up the parchment. "Best we get rid of the evidence, eh? Not that it'll make Melchizedek any more steamed, but, you know, best not to press the issue."

Jarik says, "I think… I need to speak with Melchizedek."

Jarik lays his head back on his pillow. He sighs.

The wolf leans back. "Ha!" He shakes his head. "Haven't you been /listening/? Don't you realize what is going /on/ right now?"

Jarik says, "Once this is past… I need to talk to him."

The wolf snorts. "Sure. I'll let /you/ worry about that one. Don't expect to go sending me on any errands to fetch him for you, though."

Jarik says, "I wouldn't ask that of you… thanks for your help… "

The wolf frowns. "Sure." He shakes his head, looking away.

The wolf grumbles, and drops the crumpled parchment beside Jarik's cot. "My shift is done here. Keep out of trouble, hm?"

Jarik nods to the wolf. His left hand reaches down and picks up the parchment. He just stares at it… , "I didn't… I oculdn't… no… please no."

Jarik uncrumples it and reads it again…

The page is as the wolf narrated … except that the scribble running off the page isn't just a scribble. It's a very hasty scrawl that just gets worse toward the end, but continues what the wolf quoted. " – you. I can't remember a thing."

Jarik's head flumps back into his pillow.

Jarik mutters to himself, "I couldn't have… I couldn't have… " He keeps repeating that phrase until he falls asleep.

Outside the doorway, a cowled and robed figure walks by at an urgent pace … but stops and looks into the Infirmary, seeing the reclining Jarik. A grin appears within the hood. "Poor poor Ensign Jarik. Honest and honorable to the end – but nobody will believe that now, will they? Never fear. It's for the better. You'll see… " With that, the cowled figure laughs and strides on down the corridor.