Derrix stood still as rejuvenating energy coursed through him and mended his flesh. He squirmed in place as his skin weaved upon itself and his body closed his wounds, as if it had an alien mind of its own. The sensation was unique and felt as though a thousand ants were crawling over him and quickly sewing him shut, minus the pain of a needle. The feeling naturally gave him goosebumps as it ended and the invading warmth of the woman’s spell faded away to be replaced with the natural breeze that flowed through the town. Of course his head still throbbed and flushed with feathers at the lack of blood in his body. He led his forehead and felt his brain swimming on low tide. 

	He shook his head to ward off the dizzy spells, and he swore he heard rattling. If he had his pack on him, he figured, he could drink some water to help fill in for the missing red. 

	The man paused in thought before gesturing at the old woman who had offered her healing hands to him and his throat vibrated with a masculine voice, “who were these men?”

	He fanned the area with an open palm, as if reminding her who he was talking about.

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Short I know.
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