<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/74/Marguerite_Tuerny_14.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Marguerite Tuerny<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Scene of the crime<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Not anything wicked.  Pretty much everyone else though.<br/><hr/>The woman was a mess.  The thin sheet provided only token modesty and did nothing at all to stem the flow of blood from the crisscross of gashes across her pale flesh.  The formerly crisp linen was now more red than white, and the blood had seeped into her own clothing, her best dress, a gift from Hunter.<br/><br/>He’d treasured it for years, a memento of his dead precious wife.  And she had ruined it the first time she wore it.  The thought flashed but an instant, dismissed for the absurdity it was in the present situation almost before it was fully formed.<br/><br/>What was important was the woman.  The dead – they could mourn the dead later.  Elisabeth was alive and in desperate need of care.  Marguerite couldn’t really tell if the blonde shoppe-keeper was still sane, or how lucid she was.  Much of what she said made sense, but even the words that seemed apt had a disjointed quality to them – as if the female doctor was reciting a familiar lecture by rote.<br/><br/><em>“Non Timebo Mala”</em>Elisabeth spoke, Marguerite crossed herself and finished the phrase.<strong>“... quoniam tu mecum es virga tua et baculus tuus ipsa consolabuntur me.”</strong>She took comfort in one of the standby Psalms of the Catholic liturgy.<strong>“Amen.”</strong>Though the line was in the middle of the Psalm, she felt it made apt prayer for the situation.<br/><br/><strong>“She’s… I can’t tell if she’d delusional or if she just isn’t all here.”</strong>She muttered more than spoke the words, speaking over the blonde beauty’s confession of rape.  She heard them though, and suddenly the pattern of bruises and injuries – the placement of digging claw cuts and the areas most damaged made sense.  The… the thing.  The creature was obviously male, and he’d stripped her bare with a few deft strokes of what must be impossibly sharp claws.  That was the source of the slashes to her torso.  The rest of her injuries were incidental to holding her down and using her.  Cracked hips, the thing must have thrust with incredible strength to… or perhaps he’d just gripped too tight at the woman’s hips.<br/><br/>Elisabeth was alive because her attacker hadn’t been interested in killing the woman.  Not, at least, until he was done with her.  Marguerite shuddered.<br/><br/>But it was obvious that the victim couldn’t walk.<strong>“We need a stretcher.”</strong>She looked around.<strong>“Find me something to carry her on!  A wide board or a door, or even a blanket stiffened with...”</strong><br/><br/><strong>“Thanks,”</strong>She interrupted herself to reply to Spooky's offer of escort.<strong>“...but if you want to help, holster the hardware and bring me a stretcher.”</strong>She flashed the man holding cold iron in each hand a withering glance.<strong>“Ordering the delirious woman around isn’t helping at all.” </strong>She nodded to where a plank lay along the ground, spanning a low spot that probably turned to a mud pit when, or if, rain ever fell atop this God-forsaken mesa.<strong>“That board will do.  But we need four strong backs to carry…</strong><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>"Hey!"</strong></span>She called out at a man bending over Edward's body, apparently reaching for his deadly Confederate sabre.<strong>"Hey there!  What do you think you're doing?  Are you robbing the dead?!"</strong><br/><br/>She didn’t attempt to rise, as she was cradling the wounded woman’s head and holding the sheet closed about her body, pressing the fabric into the last of the seeping wounds.  They were all shallow and clotting up nicely – proof again that they were inflicted incidentally and not with intent to cause harm.  The bruises… the bruises were another matter.  They were deep and caused by blows mighty enough to break bone.<br/><br/>She might have yelled more at the roughly-dressed thief, but he turned on her first.<em>“Shut your bloody mouth woman! I'm taking this bloomin' sword so I can chase after that lawman you're clearly shaggin', save his arse and stab whatever nasty it was that feckin' did this. So get out of my bloody way and get off my blasted case”</em>His gaze seemed to drill into her, to chill her with a shuddering, rippling thrill down her spine and deep into her very core.  He was disrespectful, dirty, unshaven, and mean.<br/><br/>The nerve of such a man, to chastise her!<strong>“Why, the very nerve!”</strong>She snapped back aloud, lifting her chin a bit more than a subtle half-inch.<strong>“I’ll have you know that I am not sha… That is none of your concern!  Have a civil tongue, you… you ruffian!”</strong>Whatever the man was, he was no sneak-thief!  More the bold type of thief that stares you in the eye while he robs you.  No coward at all, especially if he planned on taking on whatever did this armed only with a sword.  Like a knight-errant from some medieval tale. She sniffled a mightily high-flautin sniffle of disdain and turned her attention away from the man – whatever else, he did nerve.  Nerve any way you meant it.<br/><br/>Her eye lingered on the not notably impressive man an instant longer though, watching him from the corner of her eye even as her head turned away and she faced back to Spooky and the crowd and finally back to Elisabeth.<strong>“Somebody get me a stretcher!”</strong>She snapped out at the crowd as she held and comforted the savaged woman.<strong>"You, and you!"</strong>She pointed out two strong looking fellows.<strong>"You look like you have strong backs. You can carry her."</strong>Once they had a stretcher, which didn't seem likely any time soon.<br/><br/>She saw a familiar face then, walking close with a startlingly pretty redhead adorned with...  With gadgets, is all she could think to call them.  Why would one carry so much useless junk about?  And why would she be walking so close to the lanky beauty?<strong>“Thank goodness, someone with some sense!”</strong>It wasn’t completely obvious she was speaking of Harley, though she did seem to be looking in her general direction.<strong>“Let’s get Elisabeth out of here.”</strong><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Translations</div><div class="spoiler_body">I will fear no evil<br/><br/>for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they have comforted me.<br/></div></div>