Verissa listened to the bustling Kvaren language around her, still not used to it. She occasionally heard familiar words, but couldn't quite put them to meaning. She'd heard Shenzi speaking in Kvaren, then switching back to Common. She picked out several words that her mind specifically made a note of. The words for suture, clean, needle, wound, heal. She kept at this until the woman came over to her, accompanied by a crowd of wide eyed youth. Verissa listened close, finding it increasingly worrying that this man had yet to be treated. 

She found it terribly interesting that she was teaching how to identify a weapon by the wounds they caused. It wasn't something Verissa had ever focused on before. It seemed to make sense that a sword had caused the wounds, though she didn't find it as obbious as Shenzi. Perhaps because she wasn't as accustomed to combat. When they said rapier, she tried to picture what one looked like, cursing her lack of knowledge in this area. She guessed from the wounds that it was thin and sharp pointed, but aside from that she had no clue. 

Verissa saw the girl sneering at her, and for a brief moment, her mind told her to look down and away submissively. But she wasn't this woman's slave, she was Asher's slave. And Shenzi made it clear that she needed to make Asher look good through her own efforts. As all eyes were on her, she felt the anxiety of one being judged and facing intense scrutiny. She knew the answer easily, but also remembered what SHenzi had taught her just the day before. Looking straight at the sneering girl, [color=f6989d][b]"Feverfew and plaintain leaves, marigold petals made into a poultice with honey to be applied to the wound. I've found that honey, coneflower, feverfew, made into a tea also fights infection. It also helps give strength back into those that have lost a good deal of blood as this man has. Treating the wound with boiled brine also helps prevent infection by ensuring it to be cleaned." [/b][/color]

It was stated very matter of factly, and Verissa immediately began feeling sheepish, as Shenzi translated. That's when she knew what the old woman was doing. This woman was using this man and his injuries to teach further, since his life wasn't in immediate danger. This made her smile, this woman was very intelligent indeed.

Shenzi put her to work making poultices and tea, while showing some of the youth watched on. The watched her hands move deftly as she cut the leaves, ground them with mortar and pestle, as she boiled them down just right. She wasn't used to working with plantain and a few other plants, such as orange root, but the methods still rang true. The sneering girl and others were charged with treating the man. She was scrubbing the man's wounds, but seemed to be doing so gingerly. Verissa walked over, grabbing a fresh rag, moving the woman's hands aside. She spoke in Common, unsure if the woman would understand, [color=f6989d][b]"You're doing him no favors being ginger with your cleansing. You need to remove any dead flesh and outside materials, otherwise infection is inevitable and will lead to blood poisoning." [/b][/color] She coupled this statement with vigorous, deep scrubbing, showing how the raw flesh was now pristine, before heading back to her own work, receiving a proper scowl from the girl.

After many long stretches of work, Shenzi came up to Verissa, [color=f7976a][b]"You've done well today, take some time to yourself, before having to return to Asher."[/b][/color] For her sake, the woman said it in Kvaren first, then Common. Verissa thanked her in Kvaren, remembering how Asher had said it the night before. 

Her pups had been resting outside the healer's tent, were immediately active as she stepped out. She pet them, and decided to simply go wandering around camp. She watched as everyone prepared for departure, tearing down tents, packing things into saddlebags, carts, and crates. She found someone had left a wooden pole near a camp that was already packed. She picked it up, smiling. It reminded her of the strange events that happened on her way to Azure Strand, of the woman she called Strawberry. She'd tried to use a stick then as a weapon and had failed miraculously. But she knew of people who could use them, and something about it appealed to her. 

She moved to open space, hands clutching far too low, at one end, as her pups looked on curiously. She tried a downward swing, finding it immediately threw her off balance, and forced her to recover awkwardly. Stubbornly, she kept just swinging and swinging, now more of a cathartic exercise to vent her frustration than any true weapons training.