It was a quiet, ordinary evening, in a quiet, ordinary mountain village. The cook fires were burning happily from the huts around the village. The peaceful, monotonous life style of the villagers was shattered when the watchman suddenly sounded the alarm. They were unaccustomed to trouble, and the men in the village were slow to assemble. By the time they'd done so, the long man who'd approached the village was already standing before the watchman, panting heavily, a boy held in his arms. He was dusty, travel worn, and wild eyed with panic. The watchman noticed that his eyes darted around frantically, as if he were expecting something terrible to happen at any moment.<br/><br/>"Please..." panted the man breathlessly, "Have you a healer here?"<br/><br/>The watchman noticed the man was armed, but decided he was no thread. Nodding, he waved the assembled militia down, and offered to escort the man to the village doctor, adding, "You'll have to forgive me for escorting you... Can never be too careful these days."<br/><br/>"Of course. In fact, I would feel more comfortable if you did escort me. Thank you."<br/><br/>Nonplussed by the man's response, the watchman turned and led the way down the dirt lane, heading through the huts toward one hut in particular.