DATE: March 15, 2002
SUMMARY: After a wounded Conor is discovered outside the woods, confusion arises.
DISCLAIMER: Roar and its characters belong to Ron Koslow, Shaun Cassidy, and 20th Century Fox and Universal Television. I'm just borrowing them.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first attempt at a Roar fic. I haven't seen Roar in ages, but I really miss the show. From the bits and pieces of stuff I remember (and info from the Roar novel that I own), I hope this story sounds at least half authentic. Enjoy... and don't forget to send feedback!
It was a clear, dark night. Moonlight streamed down from the canopy of trees above, softly lighting the ground below. A figure staggered among the trees, shivering at the soft touch of a cool breeze on his skin. He gripped an injured left arm with his right hand, and half limped, half stumbled in the forest. Out of breath, he paused for a moment, leaning against a tree to keep himself upright. [Just a bit further], he thought to himself as he pushed himself off the tree and on his way again.
Just as he saw a fire burning at a distance, he tripped over a fallen tree branch and fell flat on his face. He cried out softly as a wave of pain radiated from his right foot. His ankle had already been slightly sprained a little while before and now he was sure he had twisted it. He would have laid there forever if not for the wind that was growing stronger - if he stayed out tonight, he would surely freeze to death.
Mustering his depleting strength, he pulled himself off the ground and into a sitting position, feeling light headed and nauseated. As the feeling subsided, he tried calling out to one of his companions for help. All that came out was a soft rasp, and nothing more. He sighed inwardly, and tried pushing himself off the ground to get back on his feet - foot, really, since his right ankle couldn't be walked on.
His rattlings in the forest must have attracted attention, because next thing he knew, someone was demanding him to identify himself. He knew the voice, and tried answering. Apparently he wasn't loud enough because the voice demanded his name again, and threatened to hurt him if he didn't show himself at once. Just as he screamed the person's name with all his breath to make himself be heard, he felt something slam into his shoulder. He fell over backward and knocked his head against the tree he had been using to support himself. Darkness engulfed him before he realized what had happened.
"You know, Fergus, Conor is really taking his time," Catlin commented, looking out into the dark forest. "Didn't he say he'd be back by nightfall?"
"You know the lad, Catlin. When he's out hunting, he loses track of time," Fergus responded. "He'll come back."
"Yeah, like tomorrow," Catlin muttered to herself, turning back to the fire she was tending.
The two gazed absently at the fire as Catlin jabbed at it with a branch. It was near midnight, and the rest of the people at The Sanctuary had gone to sleep for the night.
"Fergus, why don't you get some sleep now. I'm on watch tonight."
"Aww... don't want an old man hanging around, eh Catlin?"
"No... I don't mean that... You know what I mean."
Fergus chuckled softly.
"Aye, I do," he yawned. "Well, your advice sounds good right about now. Good night, Cat."
"Good night. Sweet dreams."
Fergus strolled into his hut as Catlin fixated her eyes on the fire again. The night was cool, and a refreshing gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the tree. The crickets sang their night song and Catlin smiled to herself. It was a perfect night.
She was letting her mind wander a little when she heard a thump coming from the forest. She frowned and looked out into the trees.
"Conor?," she called out uncertainly. No response.
Just to make sure everything was okay, she picked up her bow and arrows from the ground and got up, heading cautiously into the forest. She heard another rustle and tensed up.
"Who's there? Identify yourself!"
She heard nothing more. Slowly, she pulled out an arrow from her pack behind and stretched her bow, aiming it to where she last heard a noise.
"Show yourself, or I'm going to hurt you!"
A hoarse voice sounded out slightly to her left, and she let go of her arrow in that direction before she realized the voice had called her name.
"Oh God..." Catlin murmured as she heard a thump.
She ran in the direction of the thump, hoping, praying to God it wasn't Conor she had just shot. As she was running and shouting his name, she tripped over something and landed right on top of an unconscious Conor, arrow right beside his shoulder. It had glanced off superficially, and did not penetrate to the bone.
"Conor?," she called out anxiously, looking intently at her friend's face. He was out cold.
Catlin silently berated herself for having taken a shot without thinking it over more carefully as she got off Conor. She heard her name being called - Fergus had heard the commotion.
"Over here!," she called out, flagging her arms.
Fergus appeared beside her in no time.
"Sweet Brigit! What happened?," Fergus asked as he wasted no time in picking Conor up.
"I heard something in the forest, and I took a shot. God... I should have realized it was Conor!"
"It's okay, Cat. It's dark."
"I should have known."
"Well, at least you found him."
As they neared The Sanctuary, Tully called out to them, concerned.
"I heard you yelling Catlin. What's wrong?"
"It's Conor. She shot him."
"I didn't mean to."
The light from the fire illuminated Conor's features.
"He's really banged up," Tully remarked. "I thought he was out hunting."
"Cat, go get the healer. I'll put him inside his hut. Tully, get some light."
As the other two ran off to their respective errands, Fergus thought about what Tully had just said. [I thought he was out hunting.] Could it mean that the Romans had gotten to Conor while hunting and were now somewhere in the forest, waiting to make an ambush on The Sanctuary? He couldn't take any chances. As soon as Tully returned with the light and Catlin with the healer, he told the two of them of what might have happened.
"So, you think Conor was attacked by Romans," Tully asked.
"Could be possible. Anything's possible right now."
"You're right, Fergus," Catlin agreed. "Better safe than sorry. We'll ask him what happened when he comes to, but for now, we should stand guard."
Tully nodded. Wordlessly, the three dispersed in different directions, and they began keeping watch.
THE NEXT MORNING
The night had proved to be a quiet one, but there was an uneasy tension in the air that penetrated every person, every action. No one really knew for certain whether or not the Sanctuary was facing imminent Roman attack, but everyone knew to prepare just in case they were. Only Conor could tell them what really went on last night, but he was still out.
As Catlin came out of the hut where Conor was, Fergus approached her.
"How is he?"
"Well, all his wounds have been bandaged up. Nothing too seriously damaged. But it looks like he hit his head pretty bad since he's still not waking up. Either that or he's just pretending to be sleeping."
"Yeah, that boy has always been a mischievous one."
"Well, I wished he'd wake up right now so he can tell us what really happened out there last night."
Just then, the healer came out of the hut.
"He's coming to."
Catlin and Fergus looked at each other and quickly followed the healer into the hut.
"Conor?," Catlin called gently as she reached his bedside.
Conor groaned and blinked in response.
"Conor... are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's banged up pretty badly."
"Conor, what happened last night?"
He gave her a confused look.
"You were in the woods. I... I shot you."
His expression changed from confusion to realization.
"Thank you," he responded sarcastically.
"Sorry. Just reacted too fast."
"It's okay. Hurts, though."
Catlin winced again. Why did she have to be so swift? Fergus spoke up to find the answer they've been wanting all night.
"Conor, we need to know what happened to you last night. Do you remember?"
Conor furrowed his brow and nodded slowly.
"Yeah, down a mountain. I lost my footing while chasing a deer. Well, tumbled may be a better word."
"You fell down a mountain?"
"Yes... I think so. I woke up at the bottom at nightfall, I guess I got knocked out. I tried to get back as soon as I can, but I think I twisted my ankle."
"That's it?," Catlin joined in.
"Well, yes. Why?"
She rolled her eyes and stalked out of the hut.
"What's wrong with her? I'm the one who fell down the mountain."
Fergus gave him a look and roared with laughter. Conor stared at him, dumbfounded.
"What is wrong with the two of you?"
"Nothing, lad, nothing."
"Are you sure?"
With that, Fergus left the hut as well, muttering something about Romans between his chuckling. Conor stared at the door, at a total loss for the behaviour of his two friends. [Maybe some sleep will help,] he thought to himself.
Closing his eyes, he pondered about what he might have done to cause such odd behaviour from Catlin and Fergus, and did so until he drifted off to dreamland.
Hope you enjoyed reading this fic and I hope I at least half got the feel of Roar, which, btw, I miss a lot. Oh well... please send me some feedback for this fic. PLEASE!!! Thanks for reading!
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