Carol
Arin Cragton
Northwind

"It was nothing to be thankful for. Only a favor for a friend." Arin said quietly, standing up to face the campsite away from the woman's body. He walked forward, carefully avoiding the corpses laying ripped apart, bloody splatters painted all around them. He bent down next to one of the men, extracting the man's sword and drawing it. The balance was almost perfect, and Arin held it out, before taking a swing with it. 

"Must have been a soldier's." He muttered to himself, tying the scabbard's belt around his waist. He made his way deeper into the camp, searching the other bodies but not finding anything worth the extra weight. He fixed the bow onto his back before filling the small quiver with as many arrows as he could find that were not damaged in the fight. 

"Marsila. You ok?" He asked, rummaging through the supplies he had found. Nothing good enough to use to clean his wound, and his dark eyes glanced up, regretting what he had to do next. He grabbed a cloth from nearby, folding it up and looking over at Marsila. 

"I need your help. I.. I can not do it myself." He said, walking over to the fire. He pulled out his dagger and ran water over it, cleaning it as best he could before holding it out towards Marsila. He removed his shirt and laid on his bag, placing the cloth in his mouth.
James
**Marsila Vema
Northwind, The Rustlands**

She had finished clothing herself when she heard Arin call out and was now observing the naked body of the woman, taking in the blue vines that trailed across her pale skin, winding themselves like tendrils around her body. It had been a long time since Marsila had seen a victim succumb to the toxins within her blood. 

"Yeah, I'm ok." She shouted out in response while pressing her finger into the hardened flesh. The shifter stood while remaining transfixed on the body until Arin's voice tore her attention towards him. Her gaze lowered to the blade he held towards her as he remained by the fire and could easily guess what it was that he was requesting. 

"I don't think.." She stumbled with her words as her eyes flickered towards the pyre and her companion. Marsila knew the dangers of nearing an open flame, having burnt herself many times as a child. The naked flames made her nervous, however when she lowered her sight towards his ribs, understanding what needed to be done. Forcing herself to hide the nervous features that were beginning to line her face, Marsila nelt by the fire and placed the blade as close as she could to the coal base that glowed red from the heat. Her arm remained stretched out as she leaned her body as far as her arm allowed, attempting to put as much distance between her and the flames. 

Once the blade became the same shade as the coal beneath, Marsila took the steel away from the flames and with quick fluid motion, placed it on the left side of Arin's ribs where the wound bled. She didn't bother warning the man, knowing it would be best to avoid the unnecessary dread of what was to happen.
Carol
Arin Cragton
Northwind camp

The weather outside was cold, the ground was damp, but Arin knew the shake within his body came from neither of those things. Fear, terror, Arin hated both of those words. They represented weakness, something Arin thought he had left behind. But Arin knew that fear was beginning to control his mind. 

The blade sat in the fire growing hot, and Arin's eyes widened, but he bit down onto the rough cloth and cemented himself in the cold earth, forcing his body not to leap up and dash away. He closed his eyes and forced himself to ignore the red death inching its way towards him. 

A guttural scream forced its way out of his chest before he could silence it, fighting its way out of his soul. His eyes rolled back, but he maintained consciousness as the glowing iron purified the wound. The smell of burning skin that was already in the air grew even stronger as Marsila forced the dagger onto the side of his ribs. For what felt like days, Arin forced himself not to run, not to fight back against the ever growing agony. Even after Marsila withdrew, Arin could feel the pain taunting him, spitting in his face, calling him the weakling that he had fought so hard to overcome. 

Arin slowly opened his eyes after a moment, glancing up at the deep blue sky. His fingers were white from tearing into the soft grass beneath him, but the pain slowly diminished from his side. He slowly sat up and looked at Marsila with tears in his eyes, and he wiped his nose using his arm. 

"Thank you." He said quietly, ducking his head so she wouldn't see the tears still forming.
James
**Marsila Vema
Northwind**

The smell of burning flesh was nothing compared to the nausea she felt. She could hear the sound of his flesh sizzling under the scorching blade when Arin forced himself to remain quiet after his initial scream. She argued with herself mentally as she kept the blade against his ribs, waiting for the red glow of steel to darken from the black markings created by the flames. 

Marsila took the blade away from his side and placed it into the cold snow, the warmth of the dagger melting the snow beneath, forming a puddle. Bringing her gaze towards his face, she noticed him facing down, purposely hiding his face from her. She could understand the need to not show weakness and decided against asking if he was alright. Instead, the shifter rose to her feet and held her hand out towards him. 

"We should probably leave." She knew it was unfair of her to request they leave as he didn't heal as she did. She couldn't imagine the pain he was suffering, she could only guess it felt similar to when she had burnt herself as a child. The pain was unimaginable yet it was only temporary for the shifter compared to the man who was doing his best to hide his agony. "There could be others coming."