Two Rivers Isle silverhawk

While he had lost all of his supplies from the ambush, the territory he had found nearby was bountiful with useful herbs. He had been quick to bathe in a river, then set to scoping out marigold flowers and chervil and mixing the small amount and applying them to his wounds. The thieves had only managed to give him surface level scratches; none had been deep enough to be fatal, though he knew his fate would quickly turn should one get infected.

It had taken a few days to collect the plants and find a spot to mix them but finally, satisfied with the patchwork of poultices and leaves he had applied to his legs and sides, Quentin then continued on his trek inland.

It was the loud, repeated squeal of a piglet that had him diverge from his path, and the scent of blood and wolf led him to the sight of a two-toned woman peacefully enjoying her meal. A dangerous game to play, taking young from a wild pig.

Quentin made sure to approach from her front, and made every attempt to appear as weak and pathetic as he could be to ensure she didn't see him as an immediate threat. She could be the charitable sort, for all he knew. "Why, what a lucky find," he complimented, hobbling forwards with a wide smile. "Well done."