Jade Fern Grove i may not know my flowers but i know a bitch when i see one

A verbal greeting was not given, her attention having gone straight towards his injured side. There was a question, and then another, and then some more, but hardly any pauses in between for him to have actually answered each one individually. He’d loosed a sigh, but was otherwise quiet as she worked to get out all of the questions that were on her mind. Her tone seemed worried, which confused him, having expected some sort of positive reaction; after all, he’d contributed to her previous injury, and so he’d expected a grudge to be held against him. It seemed as if that wasn’t the case, though, and so he’d stared at her for a moment before following her to wherever she intended to lead him.

As he moved, he’d winced every once in a while, but often tried not to show it. When he’d realized that Ocra’s onslaught of inquires had ceased, he’d taken the time to go through and answer everything. “No one did this. I slipped down the mountain on my way back,” the boy explained, shrugging, and then regretting having done so. “It doesn’t hurt that much. It could have been worse.” He considered himself lucky that it hadn't been.