Adriel soon reemerged with a wet rag and knelt beside him.
"Oh, you poor thing."
He was riding the ragged edge of consciousness then, and the last thing he remembered as everything faded into blackness was the cool, wet cloth wiping the dirt and dried blood from his face and a soft, cooing voice.
"Poor thing…poor thing…"
— II-
"Think he'll live?" someone said behind her.
The sound of a voice startled Adriel. She gave a small cry and turned. A bearded man, tall and muscular, stood peering over her shoulder.
"Oh. Tlad. You startled me. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."
"Sorry. How's he doing?"
"I think he'll pull through. If his wounds don't fester too much, he should be all right."
"Good." Tlad gave her a quick nod, then he turned and started to walk away.
"Wait. I don't understand."
He looked back, his eyes flicking over her. "What is there to understand?"
"Why did you bring my father news of a wounded tery? Why convince him to bring it in?"
"He needed help and I couldn't manage him. I figured you'd like the job."
"Oh, you did, did you?"
She resented this relative stranger's presumption in assuming that he knew what she'd like.
"Yes. You both look like you could use a friend. You'll be good for each other."
Adriel stared into his unreadable face. The insight at the heart of his casual statement was so on-target that she was momentarily speechless. She looked at him closely. His light brown hair hung lankly against the darker brown of his beard. He was dirty and he smelled bad and she had never much liked him. He returned her stare.
"That was nice of you," she said, finally.