Nyri can't go back and face Lord Kruzel, not with her shoulder a bleeding wreck and her target still running around. With a sigh, she sinks into a pile of shrubbery a good distance from the camp, taking out a cloth from her belt and dampening it slightly with water from her canteen. The girl washes the mud from her clothes, then softly cleans the rag again before washing her face. At least it was quiet tonight; the moon had vanishes and the ground was thick with fog.<br/><br/>The human silently crouches amid the tall tough long brown grass that grew on most of Ord Mantell. She needs rest and her shoulder looks pretty bad. Nyri can deal with whatever she has to do about her target, when it is lighter in the morning. Silently the girl closes her eyes and falls asleep, putting a soft shroud around her makeshift campsite. Hopefully nothing would stumble across her blood trail in the night and find her, at the very least, she thinks. A few seconds later, the teen slips into an exhausted, nightmarish sleep.