The Swordmaster was glad to see Verissa's spirit seem to brighten when they arrived at the Healer's tent, and he noticed that the new slave already forming a friendship with Shenzi. It was slaves who found a place, a niche, that tended to do well, and Asher decided that he wanted Verissa to stick around. He had already turned away before she asked him to wait, but he paused and turned to face her, searching her face curiously with his stormy eyes. Being thanked was not what he expected, but it was nice to hear, even if it made his brows twitch together in a frown. Thank you for what? For bringing her to the Healer's Tent? He wasn't sure what she meant, but didn't press. He disappeared into the crowd and went off to do whatever Swordmasters did. Shenzi looked up at Verissa and nodded in acknowledgment. [color=8882be]"Of course. Not that it was difficult, mind you. Asher is not a complete fool. Healing is a craft always in high demand and your skill will reflect well on him. Just as his position reflects on you. Don't forget that."[/color] After that little tidbit, the aesenshi let Verissa wander among the patients, though the vixen didn't let her out of her sight. Neither did the other slaves and kvaren Healers, mostly women, who had clearly been living among the tribespeople for a while. Not only because of their clothing, but they were all speaking the Kvaren language, watching Verissa out of the corner of their eyes to see if she was following as they gossiped about her. Most of the patients in the tent were unconscious, as those who could move around preferred to go back to their own tents to be treated there. Now and then some of the more established healers returned to the tent to drop off or pick up supplies and check in with Shenzi before heading off to their next assignment. The fox-woman was giving a lecture on suturing, explaining the different patterns of stitching and when to use them, as well as naming different materials other than thread that could be used in a pinch. Most of her speech was in Kvaren, though she tended to go back and repeat herself in Common for those who benefited from the switch. When Verissa asked about the feverish slash-victim, Shenzi wandered over, forcing the gossiping women to come with her and learn. [color=8882be]"Ah yes. This is Fergus."[/color] An impish grin spread across her canine features. [color=8882be]"Alright ladies, and Zazzik,"[/color] she added with a nod to an olive-scaled reptilian youth whose gender and race was anyone's guess, [color=8882be]"Let's start with the basics. We have a victim covered in many shallow slashes. What kind of weapon do we think caused this?"[/color] One of the girls answered quickly in Kvaren, and Shenzi translated smoothly. [color=8882be]"A sword, yes. I think that was pretty obvious, can we be more specific?"[/color] [color=39b54a]"A rapier,"[/color] Zazzik said, and the creature's voice didn't give a clue to their gender either. Shenzi translated 'rapier' into Kvaren for the others. [color=8882be]"Yes, most likely a rapier. Now what will our main concerns be after we address blood loss?"[/color] Another of the girls answered, and this one appeared somewhat more haughty than the rest and kept glancing at Verissa with a sneer. [color=8882be]"Yes, Briea, keeping the wounds covered and preventing infection is the secondary goal. Now, tell me what substances you would use to prevent infection. Let's let Verissa answer this time."[/color] She repeated herself and then group turned to look at their newest member expectantly. Even the patient, who was still unconscious and unaware of himself being used as a training tool, seemed to breathe lighter as they waited. Shenzi hadn't actually answered Verissa's question, but a twinkle of knowing glittered in her eyes. -- Asher made his way through the busy campsite, moving much more swiftly without being encumbered by Verissa at his side. His wounded shoulder ached even at the slightest jostle and he gritted his teeth against the discomfort, but didn't realize he was doing it until his jaw started to ache. Before he could even think about sorting out his own belongings, it was his duty to assist with organizing the packing and shipping of the weapons and raid gear shared by the tribe as a whole. Everything from keen-edged blades and masterwork bows down to the simplest wooden training staffs would have to be accounted for. As Asher met up with his fellow Swordmasters, he remembered a time when he was the one doing the grunt work, but as they delegated to the younger fighters Asher was glad for the reprieve. The hours slipped by as Asher helped with bundling up weapons and armour, loaded into carts, and helped break down the light fencing that outlined the training pits. The flat expanse of dirt remained when they were done, with a small stack of more worn bo staffs laying discarded in the grass. It was only then that Asher was free enough from obligation to take care of his own business. He meandered through the communal cooking area towards the far side of the camp where the livestock were kept. Creatures like goats and pigs were kept in pens, and the riding raptors were secured even further with chains. Only the horses were allowed to roam free in a herd, their wranglers posted among them to keep watch. It was to one of the wranglers that Asher approached, lifting his good arm in greeting. [color=707070]"Torrik, hello!"[/color] He had to wait until the mounted man trotted his painted horse over to him. Torrik looked down, shielding his face against the sun. He had dark, weathered skin and a white muttonchop beard. [color=a2d39c]"Ash, my lad. What can I do for you?"[/color] The wrangler was polite enough, but obviously had little time to chat, which suited Asher fine. [color=707070]"I need a horse for the move tomorrow,"[/color] Asher started, but Torrik's snort interrupted him. [color=a2d39c]"Yeah? You and everyone else. You shoulda been here yesterday, I mighta been able to help you out."[/color] [color=707070]"Don't give me that shit, Torrik. There's still plenty of good beasts out there and you know I can pay. I just need something that can pull a cart."[/color] Torrik scratched his thick fingers through his messy beard, considering the young Swordmaster. [color=a2d39c]"Well, I might have something. I'd be happy to trade. I heard you brought home something really pretty last night. Fancy a swap?"[/color] [color=707070]"Like hell,"[/color] Asher growled, his face turning stony. [color=707070]"No woman is worth a single horse."[/color] [color=a2d39c]"No slave, you mean?" [/color] Asher hesitated but remained silent, glaring openly at the Wrangler, who eventually smirked. [color=a2d39c]"Alright, alright. I don't have any cart horses yet but I have a nice draft mule that will do just fine, and a cart to go with him."[/color] Asher nodded and the two men haggled about the price for a while, mostly as an exercise. Eventually, Torrik agreed on an amount. "Hang out here and I'll get him hitched up for you to take back to your tent." The man turned his splotch-coloured horse and trotted off. Ash had gotten what he wanted, but couldn't help feel that he had come out of the conversation a bit worse off.