Stavanger Bay I. The flames climbed in to the clouds.

true, she would most likely never see this man again. the thought had occurred to her more than once, yet it did not stop her from assisting him. bonds, others claimed, were important. names as well. something to tether oneself to another and force their interactions. the woman did not care about such things. of course, she was not completely emotionless. sometimes - very rare - she got what is known as loneliness. quick, brief little social aspects cured that easily. such as this one. she was not saddened over the loss of a potential ally. she accepted it as it was.

the man spoke, at last, with a creaking tone. as if he had not spoken for a long time. she gazed at him, yet again accepting his words. he was grateful but that did not matter to her in the way he wanted it to be. this had been an exercise to flex her healing - though not flaunt it - and grasp the flora of this area. it seemed a more northern climate, which was excellent to know. and should she have saved the other of infection? well, that was merely a bonus. "of course" she replied shortly, expecting nothing in return for her services. she didn't expect much out of other people.

he proposed he was fine, getting to his paws and experimenting with walking. she still sat, a critical eye over his movements before a small nod was gifted. yes, he would be fine. Huntington could not force him to listen to her, though if the wound indeed opened back up that was on him. "competent travels" she passed to him, for 'safe' was never certain. he was the living proof of such a thing. now she rose, walking away from the stranger. she would leave if not stopped. satisfied with her job, she saw little reason to hoard her patient from the world. though if he spoke again, she would turn around. 

if not, she was leaving.