Now that his poisoned wound was patched up, Ambra could get to work on the rest of his injuries. This man really seemed like he was beaten up. Even though he had the physique of someone that was adept at swordplay, he was severely injured. [i]He was probably ambushed.[/i] she assumed, wiping her hands on her clothes and returning to her satchel. Ambra seemed to have a little portable medical clinic in her satchel, which was both good and bad at the same time. It was a good thing because she was prepared for most of the things that came her way. It was a bad thing because the bag got heavy at times, and hurt her back.

Ambra pulled out a vial of water and dabbed some on a clean rag that she kept in her bag before rubbing some of the dried blood that plastered around his wounds. Some of them smelled like they were infected, while others had a good chance of becoming infected. [i]This is bad.[/i] she sighed, running a hand through her hair. Here was this man, beaten up and poisoned, having tried to kill her, and now he was passed out in front of her. His life rested in her hands—to think that a few moments ago it was the complete opposite.

The white rag was becoming red with his blood. Ambra rinsed it out before she returned to the cleansing of his wounds. Sighing as she rubbed a particularly clotted one, she decided that she would have to use some of her rarer herbs in order to properly treat his wounds. [i]These will be hell to find again…[/i] she thought. [i]But… I can’t just leave his wounds like that. They need medicine.[/i]

---

Darrian scowled at the two. They were being arrogant about their strength and power, and yet… If they were strong enough, then they would have slaughtered all of the Shepherds in their own barracks. But no… they were scattered throughout the world, doing who knows what. What if they were seeking council with the king of Plegia? The emperor of Valm? If those countries turned against him, Darrian was not going to be a happy guy. He clasped his hands behind his back, and returned to glower at the two men in front of him.

[b]”Let me tell you something. Let’s just say that the Shepherds survive. Let’s just say they gather together.”[/b] he told them. [b]”There’s a chance that what I did will come back to bite me in the ass. And when that does, I’m not the only one that they’ll come after.”[/b] he told them with a scoff, his eyes blazing a blue fire. [b]”This isn’t a game. Just because they’re not in their little ‘lovey dovey’ group doesn’t mean they aren’t as deadly as they were before.”[/b]

---

The boy offered him his canteen, which Talbot took with eager hands. His face showed gratitude as he uncorked it, and tipped it against his lips. [b]”Thanks…”[/b] he said as he handed it back. [b]”My name’s Talbot… I don’t know if you’ve heard of me before, but… I’m usually the one that plays his lute in the corner.”[/b] he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to where he had been playing the lute. [b]”I’m also usually the one who can’t keep his mouth shut, but I’ve been parched for a while.”[/b]

He turned toward the dancer woman, and smiled at her with all of the energy he could. He was presented with a waterskin, which he gratefully took. He felt like he was being a bit greedy, but… [b]”Thanks,”[/b] he thanked the woman. [b]”I really needed that. I’ve been dying of thirst.”[/b] he grinned between them. [b]”If only there were more Shepherds like you two.”[/b]