Northstar Vale plenty of folk want our kind dead

He gave his consent—promised her to be a good patient, but she held that promise with a certain grim hope rather than belief. “This is going to hurt like…” She huffed, unable to muster the curse word from her mouth. She was so tired. “Do you want some poppy or something?”

She began to set up, the moss placed extremely close to him—hopefully, to stop the bleeding. The herbs were prepared to pack to the wound once the bleeding began to slow—but who was to say what this strange rogue at their border would do when the pain of what she was about to do took away his breath and thoughts.