A fog seems to cloud his mind as Chall struggles to wake himself. Something feels very off. His mind reels, recalling the chase and the conclusion, making him panic even further at the softness of whatever he's resting on. [i]'Grass and stone. A field. I was with. . .with some sheep. It's too warm, too soft. I've been moved. Where? Who?'[/i] A low growl rumbles out from between his slightly parted lips as each thought runs ever so slowly across his mind. His usual sharp intuition and understandings being tampered with upsets him almost more than the thought of being moved in his sleep by persons unknown. A fur covered ear snaps to the side at the sound of a crackling fire and the young mage draws in several deep breaths. Using what little power he can pull from the nearby element he fights through the fog and drags his eyes open.

The first thing his mind comes to note is that he's in some building made of wood. Having grown up in a castle for the most part he feels a strange bemusement at the thought of resting in a wooden structure. His eyes trail slowly from the roof to the source of the flickering light casting odd shadows across the room. The fireplace, almost near enough for him to reach out and touch, radiates a comforting warmth. Despite his still near panic at the situation Chall takes the fire as a good sign. He can use it should he need to fight. If perhaps those people had caught him and brought him here to 'Have a little fun with him' in the comfort of their own home. 

A strange smell makes his nose twitch and even as he turns to find it's source he recognizes the scent of healing herbs. Finding the cloth laying upon his wounded shoulder, the source of the smell, his mind fills with an entirely new set of ideas on where he is. But before he can do little more than gain a flickering hope that perhaps he's managed to be taken into a less than hostile environment, his heckles rise as he catches sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. The fur running down his back becomes stiff despite being pressed firmly against the soft surface he's laying on and another growl escapes his throat, but this time fare more hostile in nature.

His growl is answered by another growl and without warning the adrenalin fired through his body at the sound snaps Chall's mind into hyper focus. In an instant Chall is on his feet, crouching on the lounge with both clawed hands dug into it's surface. His eyes seek out the source of the answering growl and as his eyes land on the hulking shape Chall backs up at a crouch away from the noise. Reaching the edge of the lounge he stares down the large dog looking in his direction. [i]'Oh great. A dog big enough to have me for lunch, just what I needed today. I know it's stupid and trite, but it has to be the feline blood in me that makes it so I have such a hard time getting along with the beasts'[/i] Slowly Chall realizes that the dog is laying down, it's growls subsiding now that he himself is silent. He realizes, too, that there are three sets of eyes watching him from the fireside.

As his heart rate slows Chall allows himself to look around the area, making note of how small and quaint it is. [i]'Well, unless I'm in a servant's hut, there's no way it was those ruffians who've taken me. From their dress they had to be from a rich family, or at least work for one. This is little more than a hovel'[/i] Chall chides himself a bit, shaking his head at his own ungrateful assessment of his rescuers home. It is then that his shoulder decides to remind him just how hurt he is. With a wave of dizziness a shock of pain races from his shoulder across his chest and down to his stomach. With a moan he falls off the lounge on to his unhurt shoulder. One of the dogs rises at the sudden movement and Chall does his best to play dead while the feeling of dizziness keeps him from getting to his feet.

The beast lay back down beside the chair where a large cat lay, one eye open to keep an eye on the intruder. As the dog turns to lay down Chall makes note that it seems to be well cared for. The king has several of the creatures. More than once Chall has been forced to sit and listen to the kennel master talk to the court mage about the dogs and how they should be treated to stay healthy and happy. Three sets of ears perk up as Chall starts talking to himself. “Yeah, who knew it would be useful in the future for me right? I mean, if whoever lives here is poor enough to live in such a small place, but takes good care of his pets, then that must mean he or she are not of the cruel type, one would suppose.” He slowly pushes himself to his knees with his good arm, keeping the other tucked against his stomach so that movement in his shoulder is minimal. Another wave makes him fall back against the lounge. He takes several deep breaths and examines the now exposed wound. Despite the crud left behind from the poultice Chall is able to assess that the wound has had more than rudimentary field treatment.

“Well, that would explain the sludge I had to dig through just to wake up. Hedge magic. It leave the subject drowsy.” He looks over at the dogs and cat, raising an eyebrow. “Most likely an old practitioner, rather skilled to have healed it as such, just not very powerful.” The dogs gaze back at him with vague interest while the cat turns away with a yawn. Shaking his head Chall looks about the room once again. Spotting his torn blood soaked robe on the end of the lounge he tries to shift enough to reach it, feeling a little exposed without it. However another bout of pain makes him fall back with a faint yelp. He lets out a long whine, more of frustration than pain. 

With a suddenness that startles the cat awake and brings the dogs to their feet Chall starts cursing his luck rather loudly. “This is so stupid! Mother brings us to live in a country where we'll be accepted, gets a job in the palace, helps me become apprentice to the court mage himself, and still I end up at the wrong end of a dagger chucked by a close minded fool while out on a mission to help save his worthless hide from a war that I personalty think should happen just so those moronic humans will get it through their thick skulls that just because we look different doesn't mean we can't take them down a peg!” Breathing hard he glares over at the alert animals. “Don't even think about it furballs. I'll have you for lunch if you come any closer. I'm not in the mood for your kind tod- Ah!” His last declaration is cut off by a cry of pain and his hand snaps up to hold his throbbing shoulder.