Struggling with a growing sense of agony from his shoulder injury, Wil gritted his teeth as he watched the brigand’s life blood pour out of his body. As the man drifted into his final sleep Wil wondered if he, too, would join the man shortly.<br/><br/>“May Jesu hae mercy oan yer sool,” Wil said to the older man as a means of offering his forgiveness, grateful for the man’s final confession. The brigand exhaled one final time with a chilling rattling sound before expiring right in front of them.<br/><br/>Blinking from the blood and sweat in his eyes, Wil then turned to his love with a mixed expression. He had survived the conflict – but for how long? At that moment his right arm began to shake from a growing sense of shock that was to eventually overtake his body. That was when Elizabeth noticed the injury and demanded to see it.<br/><br/>At first Wil resisted as he was concerned about upsetting her. In his condition, though, the pain was too intense for him to put up much of a fight. When she removed his hand from the wound blood instantly began to well up from it as if from a spring. Wil suddenly felt ill and cold at the same time. Within a few moments his right fingertips began to lose sensation.<br/><br/>“Mah loove,” he said with a courageous expression that was rapidly failing him. “Do ye hae practice at chirurgery? Nae – wait,” he said interrupting himself. “Ye shoods flee oan Morningstar. Once home send fur help. Ye can’t bide here wi' me… here,” he said, color draining from his face. “Thaur ur others… more brigands may come…ye… shoods go. …” he added before partially collapsing to a sitting position, his head hanging low with a defeated expression.<br/><br/>“Go… mah loove…”<br/><br/>Morningstar, meanwhile, had circled around and was watching them both with a sideways glance of worry. The other horse watched them as well from a few yards away, unharmed but wary of the scent of blood and death that pervaded the area. Off on the horizon the distant towers of Lake Palace gleamed in the afternoon sun.