WHO: Dory "Fishbait" Skipjack, mentions of other Careers and open to them as usual. WHAT: Dory is in dire straits, with a gash in her leg and cold shock and hypothermia from her jaunt in the icy waters, but at least she's alive. Let's hope the other Careers are willing to keep her that way. WHEN: Day 5, mid-afternoon. WHERE: Career camp, eastern pass (G5). STATUS: Open!
Dory was still alive.
She wasn't sure how or why -- her mind seemed fuzzy and thinking was hard right now -- but Basil had carried her, she knew that. Wrapped her leg up tight in something to keep her from leaving a trail of blood behind them and carried her (and her trident, which she hadn't let go of once and possibly her fingers were frozen to it now) over the ice and snow. It was such a long, long way. Back to Marlin, though, and the warmth of the camp, and she was still alive.
He had the painkillers she'd saved, they hadn't gone down under the ice with her backpack. She tried to tell Marlin to save them, that she didn't actually feel anything in her leg now so she didn't need them, but he'd made her take some anyway before he'd done something to her calf, cleaned the bite and patched it up somehow and wrapped it up again.
Strong, brave Marlin. It was important that he was alive, because -- she couldn't think why, now, or why she struggled so hard when they tried to take her trident from her. She did remember why she protested when they took off her wet, frozen clothes to wrap her in Ritz's thermal sleeping bag. "Pere," Dory mumbled at them with a thick tongue. "Pere said not until they're dead. Fifteen."
She didn't have enough control over her limbs to stop them, though, and she was so weak from shivering that she couldn't have fought off any single one of them now, let alone all of them together.
But Marlin was here. Marlin wouldn't let anyone kill her. Not yet, anyway.