Seth of Valeria could for the first time in his life actually feel his body healing. It was a very strange feeling, but a very good one at the same time. the blood stopped flowing out of the wounds on his arms and legs, then the holes closed up and perfect new skin covered them. The bruises on his body faded away until they became invisible. Seth was left with a feeling of energy. He’d hear people say that they felt like they could take on the world, and he’d smiled and thought them silly for saying something so droll. But there was no better way to describe what he felt this time. Every muscle in his body felt both well rested, more durable and stronger than ever, his mind was clear and racing with questions for the young miss. Then she suddenly stopped and the feeling of bliss was replaced by longing and a kind of sadness. 
She asked him again to keep the event a secret and as he nodded in reply she started to fall. 
He knew that he could catch her, he felt strong and fast enough, but his body hesitated, it still recalled the wounds and almost bleeding to death. He held himself back only for a second before he sprang up and toward the woman. He moved like the wind, he would’ve caught her if he’d moved when he first saw her go down, instead she hit a puddle of bloody mud with an unsettling squashing sound. A heartbeat later he was there and pulled her out of the dirt. His worst fear was laid to rest when he saw her chest move, and felt a strong pulse in her throat, she was still alive. 
She’d made a mess of herself and appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The sleeves of his arms were red with blood, but they were marginally cleaner than her face. So he used a sleeve to wipe off the worst of the grit from her face like he would with a child. She moaned softly as he did this, but still appeared unreachable. He patted her cheek and encourage her to wake up, softly. She did not respond, that was bad. He’d seen people fall into endless sleep before, when the mind experienced trauma too great for it. He knew little about the ways of magic and decided that it would be best to find a safe place for her to rest, and a medical man to make sure she was alright. 
Beside him the elf was out cold as well. He was doubled over, resting largely on his neck. As a man fast approaching a respectable age Seth of Valeria thought it must be uncomfortable, and that the elf would have pains when he woke up. There was a patch of untouched grass nearby and Seth put the woman down on it, at least she would be comfortable there while he took care of the elf. He pulled the exotic man up and laid him on his back under a tree. Seth patted the man’s cheek and tried to make him wake up as well, but like the woman he was far away. 

Destiny tugged at his heart, and the question “What am I going to do?” burned in his mind. 
One thing was clear; he could not simply walk away and abandon them. In a world where Orc warbands roamed up to fifty heads strong, each perhaps capable of summoning horrifying demons, they would probably die before sunset. It was bad enough that they were out in the forest and only Seth conscious and able to defend the three, no matter how young and strong he felt. 
He looked them over. They both appeared to be in good health, the elf even looked like some sort of warrior, certainly he could look after himself when he woke up? 
The woman looked well, sweet and innocent as she slept, attractive even. His thoughts wandered and the face of his lost love, Elena, crept up from some deep, dark chasm in his head. He shut his eyes and looked away for a second. Twenty years was nowhere near the time needed to mend a heart broken by loss. As he opened his eyes the woman was there, still innocent, plain and at peace. 

The inn where he and the Warrior had shared a table was not far away. He should be able to get a room and some help there. Once again he looked at his two protectees and weighed his options. He could not carry them both there at the same time. Not only would it drain his stamina fast, it wouldn’t be a comfortable ride for any of them and he might drop them at some point, risking injury not only to them, but himself. That was the last thing they needed right now. After thinking about it for a while Seth of Valeria retrieved his bloody, dirty sword, the blade of Valeria, and sheathed it. Then he scooped the woman up from the ground and held her in his arms. She made a noise when he picked her up, but once again refused to wake up. Before he left he gave the elf one last look. 
“Do not worry, lost one, I will be back soon. I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but please stay right where you are, wait for me.” Then he left.

To find the road was easy, he’d left it only a few minutes before, and he clearly remembered which way he and his companion had been walking, and so turned the other way. He didn’t run, didn’t even jog. He knew that his power would fade fast if he did. Humans are made to walk, with the correct weight added to our bodies we can walk forever. While he walked he also spoke to the woman. Soft, calm, certain. 
“You are going to be fine, all you need is to sleep this off.”
“You must be the third most helpful stranger I have ever come across.”
“It is going to rain later today, the clouds are dark and heavy” 
The inn was farther away than he’d remembered, or did it just seem like it because he was also carrying her? He had worked up a sweat and his breathing was heavier than he’d expected. Still, he didn’t feel tired yet, his body still pulsed with power. 
He pushed the door open with the woman’s feet and entered the dim room. The smells came back, stale beer and fresh bread, the first fresh bread he’d had in months.

He was stopped immediately. 
“Hey, you there, what do you think you’re doin’, bringin’ that one here?” It was the manager, a large man who obviously tasted everything that left lis kitchen. 
“I am looking for aid, this one has fainted and will not wake. I will need a clean room and a doctor to have a look at her as soon as possible.”
“Not that one, you aint. she was in here earlier, makin’ a damn big ruckus, tore up the place and bolted. She aint welcome here no more.”
“Look, Sir.” Seth of Valeria tried, using the authoritative voice he’d practiced with a teacher since he was seven. “I will pay you good money for the lodging, food and any trouble that will come of this.” He flicked his hip, making his money pouch rattle like the tail of an angry snake. “Do we have an understanding?” 
Another man stood up, almost reached the roof, muscles bulging. Im mass he was easily twice the size of Seth, if not more. 
“She aint getting anything here, what part of ‘not welcome’ don’t you understand?” He said and moved toward Seth and the girl, back straight, his arms held out a little, chin up. He was trying to intimidate the nobleman into leaving. Seth moved the woman from his arms to his left shoulder and held her there with his left arm while he grabbed his sword with the right and took a step back. 
“I do not want any trouble, I just want a room and peace. is that not exactly what this establishment sells?”
“Eyes open, this is a bar, not a hospital. I sell beer and food to people who can pay, and I can refuse to serve anyone I want, now get out!” 

The big man in front of Seth took this as permission to use force and raised his arms against the two. this time Seth did not hesitate. He took a quick step forward, bent his knees and drew his sword as fast and hard he could. The weapon slammed into the man’s stomach and he doubled over in pain with a confused look on his face. Seth stood still for a second to let everyone in the room see what they were up against if they chose to get dirty. his knees were bent almost 90 degrees, his back straight, but he was leaning forward just a bit. He held the woman tight against his neck with one hand, and in the other he held his sword. The blade was turned away from his opponent, the tip still hidden by the sheath, but the arm was not fully extended. In a fraction of a second he’d made his choice and decided not to kill the man. 
He stood up again and returned the sword. 
“I told you I did not want any trouble.” The words he spoke were aimed at the room as a whole, making it sound as if he said “you brought this on yourself” to the man on the floor.
With great determination he turned around, opened the door, opened it with his free hand and left. As soon as the door closed behind him he could hear voices inside. they were upset, some even angry. He could not hear their words, but the meaning was quite clear. He looked up at the sky, seeing that the rain was not far away, he had to make another decision. He could stay and fight the angry mob. But that still wouldn’t get him inside and warm, it would just end on blood and misery for anyone, and he could be killed. He could hit the road and hope that the next inn, village or town was willing to take them in. He could go back to the clearing and see if the elf had come back from the land of dreams and see if he was able and willing to help. 

It was a longshot, but it was the best alternative he had. Back to the road, he picked his direction and started to walk. there was a certain rhythm to walking. After a while you fell into a pace, a state of mind where you didn’t need to think about the next step or where you were going anymore. He repositioned the woman so she laid across his shoulders instead of over just one. He held her in place with a grip on her leg and arm. it felt good, he could walk forever. He even became so lost that he almost missed the spot where he had to turn and had to go back a bit to find it. He knew that it would be just around the corner, and he hoped that he’d made the right choice.
 
The clearing was empty. Well, not really. There were body parts, blood, mud, discarded equipment, torn clothes, rotting demon flesh, rocks, trees and grass. But the elf was gone, a trace of blood led deeper into the forest. There was something new as well. On the tree he’d left the elf beneath something appeared to be carved into the wood. He recognized the elvish symbols of writing, and he understood their meaning, but the other thing was far more disturbing. A coat of arms, one well known to all noblemen and many commoners as well. The house of Jernlod.