It only took a night of Merdon being in and out of consciousness with an arrow in his guts for Sarel to snap. He couldn't manage to sleep, and every groan from his mouth was like an arrow to her chest. By dawn, she approached and steeled herself to pull the arrow out. It was a terrible process. Merdon woke immediately and tried to stop her, he knew how much damage pulling the arrow out would cause, but they both knew it had to come out. His screams were harrowing to the kobold's ears.

He pleaded with her as she braced herself, a foot on his chest, and started pulling. The knight's fingers scraped on the ground as he screamed at the top of his lungs, blood pooling out of the wound's entry. Sarel paled but kept pulling, slowly. She was trying to keep the pain to a minimum but it was becoming clear all she was doing was prolonging the pain. Her grip relaxed, letting Merdon stop and catch his breath before she moved her claws further down the shaft and pulled again. This time she pulled hard and fast. Merdon's eyes went wide and he screamed again, but the bolt was free. As quick as she could, Sarel opened his pack and grabbed the medical supplies he kept. Bandaging the wound was much harder this time. First, his armor had to come off, a difficult task for the kobold, then the hole had to be washed clean which only made her more aware of how much blood her verakt was losing. A shiver ran down her spine as the armor came free and a pool of blood rushed out of the armor, spilling down Merdon's side.

Sarel bit her lip and went to work, washing the wound out as best she could with some warmed water. There were less supplies than they'd left Bereth with, having helped the other knight, but there were enough to wrap Merdon's wound. It didn't help much, the blood started to show on the bandages, but it was better than letting him bleed freely. The kobold sat back and sighed while looking at her verakt.

Almost as soon as the wound was packed and tied Merdon passed out. He had been barely coherent before. Sarel's blood ran cold and she made sure to stay there until he seemed to be stable. The human relaxed after a while, but he was clammy and breathing poorly. As much as she wanted to stay by his side, Quickclaw knew she needed to get help. Merdon would not survive the three more days it would take the pair to arrive.

She turned and gathered her things. The chest had been full of trinkets. Some valuable, others less so. Sarel took them all. Overall it wouldn't affect her travel speed. There was also the ring that the fake cleric had been using. It didn't take a genius to see it was enchanted. What was once a threat would now save their lives. After finding some stuff to barricade the door, hoping to keep anyone from discovering Merdon, she walked outside the ruins and slid the ring onto her finger.

Concentration was key, she knew that. It was the same for any magic, though she wasn't personally capable of using it. She could feel the ring reaching into her and she returned that feeling. When it finally happened, she realized why the cleric seemed so worn out. Keeping the wolves around was quite a load on the mind, but for all of Sarel's effort, she only managed one wolf. The four-legged creature sat and looked at her with the same golden eyes she had. With a little experimentation, she realized she could see through its eyes, and controlling it was quite easy.

Sarel stepped forward and ran her claw down its side. It was much larger than her, exactly as she was hoping. With a hop, she landed on its back and she dug her claws into its fur, holding on tight. She directed it with her mind, turning it towards the mountain and commanding it to sprint. There was no hesitation, no concern for her weight on its back because it was no more than a construct. The wolf needed no food, no air, it was a solid illusion essentially, and the speed at which they were traveling made her grin. It was an adrenaline-filled smirk, one born from seeing the countryside zip past, feeling the air whistle over her scales.

The smile lasted only a few minutes before Sarel focused her thoughts again. At the pace she was going it would take her half the time it would take the other humans, assuming they could travel so quickly with their own wounded man, but that still left Merdon in pain for another day. Still, she had to make it to the mountain in the distance, climb a ways up it, and then come back. On foot, it would have taken her well over a day. Mounted, at the speed of a wolf, she could return before morning if she didn't sleep. Which she wouldn't; this was too important.

After a couple of hours, the green grass gave way to rocks and the path ahead became unclear. At least, to someone that wasn't a kobold. Sarel knew this area, knew the markings to look for. She veered right to travel around the mountain's base. In the shadow of the mountain, so close to its base, the air was as cool as the stone around her. It made certain aspects of navigation difficult. Markings were harder to see, even for a kobold, and she had to double back once, but she still found the trail she was searching for before noon.

A passage between rocks, too small for anything but a halfling, or a kobold. The tunnel inside ran to a sheer rock face. At this point, a typical adventurer would turn back. Sarel, Quickclaw, was a kobold, however. Her sharp claws were able to find purchase in the stone and she scampered up the wall with the speed of a gecko escaping a predator. Atop the wall was a slim entrance that belied what was inside. She pressed on through and came face to face with one of the rare kobold villages.

Buildings, small, stood in a half-circle around the inside of the cave. There was a straight path through which led out onto the mountain. On the left and right side, almost built into the cavern walls, were the kobold homes. They were made out of materials scavenged from the surrounding areas. In order to keep the secrecy of the village, of course, large materials had to be turned into pieces and reassembled inside the cave. This led to more nails being used despite the smaller size homes for the smaller sized creatures.

Kobolds of many shades and hues walked around, but several stopped when they saw Sarel. Visitors were rare, to say the least. One such kobold that halted was the elder of the village, denoted by his cane and headdress. He walked closer to Sarel, unafraid of her for the simple fact of being a kobold. They could not afford to fear one another.

“Silvertongue does not believe we've met,” the elder called out, his voice perfectly matching the weathered look of his green scales.

“Quickclaw has no time for introductions, elder,” Sarel said, tapping her claws together nervously. “Her verakt is in danger.”

The elder's eyes widened. “Truly? This is terrible news. What has happened?”

With a soft groan, she tried to explain the situation as quickly as possible. But, certain details made a crowd come around. The echoing in the cave brought her story wide, and it didn't take too much of a mind to figure she wasn't talking about a kobold.

“Your verakt,” the elder said slowly. “He is not a kobold. No kobold wears such heavy armor, and no kobold would be caught by an arrow so easily.”

Sarel's heart fell a little as she said, “No, my verakt is a human.”

The muttering of disapproval from the kobold villagers was only silenced by the pounding of the elder's cane. “Were you of our village, we would have you banished,” the old kobold told her firmly. “To risk the life of another kobold, for a hume?”

“Merdon is no hume,” Sarel hissed. “He is the knight that freed our kind in the village of Sedra. A debt of many lives is owed to him.”

The elder shook his head. “This may be true, but you'll find no help from any kobold that lives in this village,” he told her bluntly. Her time had been wasted. To think she had planned on offering some of the treasure from the chest in exchange for their aid.

Sarel wasn't done though. She shouted, “If we allow every hume, regardless of how they treat us, to perish because of our hatred, we are no better than they are!” With that, she stormed out of the cave and slid back down the rock face, leaving claw marks as she went out of spite. Someone would have to polish the stone again after her exit.

Brooding, she crawled out of the hole that led to the cliffs and looked out at the ruins. From where she stood on the side of the mountain the ruins were perfectly visible. Along with them was a small wood, perhaps there would be more kobolds there. She wasn't sure. Perhaps there was time to circle back to the forest from before, where Merdon had been injured last time. Sarel knew of a kobold encampment near there. If she didn't sleep, rode her wolf through the night, she might still make it there and back before the other humes. It was a risk. Her verakt needed help as soon as possible and she would be running the risk of taking just as long as the others coming from Bereth.

A cloud passed over the sun as Sarel raised her hand to summon her wolf when the sounds of claws on stone got her attention. Her hand flew to her dagger and she turned to the hole that led to the village. Moments later, a white kobold with golden designs around his face crawled through the hole and stood up. His robe and staff were not of kobold make, the hem of the robe clearly hacked off with a blade of some kind, and his staff more the size of a human's.

“Take me to your verakt,” he beamed at her.

Sarel raised a brow. “Who are you?” she asked defensively.

“Apologies,” the male bowed. “I am Skyeyes, a cleric. I disagree with the elder, but thankfully I am not a member of the village. Perhaps that is what he meant.” A traveler, and one that spoke as a hume did.

“Quickclaw,” Sarel said, introducing herself. “We must move quickly, do not be alarmed.” It was the best warning she could manage before conjuring the magic wolf again.

Skyeyes took a hesitant step back from the wolf, but Quickclaw waved him forward. She mounted the beast and held onto its fur tightly, both waiting for the cleric. He hesitated still but was convinced enough to follow. Once mounted behind her, he put his claws around the blue kobold's waist and held on. The wolf took off, seemingly uninstructed, and moved at full pace down the mountain path.

Both kobolds were holding on tight as the wolf sped down the mountain. Skyeyes was still tense but found Quickclaw's ability to summon a wolf to be impressive. It was rare that a kobold had any form of magic at all. Even his healing was rare and sprung forth from his devotion. A borrowed power rather than one he had innately. Still, he hoped it would be enough to help the blue kobold's mate.

Quickclaw herself was still tense as well. Just because she had found a healer didn't mean Merdon was safe. They had to make it back to him in time, and the sun setting before they were even halfway back put a fear in her heart. She couldn't hurry the brown wolf under her any faster though. All she could do was hope they arrived soon. One day wasn't so long. It was much shorter, in fact, than the four days they had expected to wait on the other humans. Merdon had told her to leave the arrow alone though. Her decision to pull it outweighed heavily on her mind. He was suffering, alone, getting worse every minute, but she was coming back. At the very least, he wouldn't be suffering alone.

It was fully night when Sarel and Skyeyes arrived. The blue kobold rushed over to the door and was pleased to find it still shut. With some creative moving of items, she unbarred the door and led Skyeyes inside. Merdon was still unconscious, and the bandage across his wound was a deep crimson. He was bleeding too heavily, too much, thanks to her decision to pull the arrow out. Alarmed, Skyeyes ran over, setting his staff aside, and assessed the wound to the best of his abilities.

“It is infected,” he said grimly. “I am … unsure if I can heal him completely.”

Sarel shut the door and barred it again. “Do your best, healer,” she implored him. “My verakt deserves nothing less.”

The cleric nodded, extended his claws, and began to murmur to himself. A prayer of healing fueled by his faith. Sarel sat in the corner and watched silently. While he took care of Merdon's wounds she would have to take care of them both. Their supplies were few. She would have to hunt. At least that might take her mind off of the situation.

With a heavy sigh, Quickclaw stood up and started preparing a meal with what she and Merdon had left. It wasn't much, bread and cheese, but it would suffice for the night. She wouldn't leave until she heard that Merdon was stable.