Epsil stopped, kneeling and laying Magdalena down. She'd fallen unconscious, and he was about to pick her up, when she jerked back to consciousness, eating the bread that Epsil handed her. She exposed her wounded arm, trying to tie it up with her hair, as well as talking to herself.<span style="font-style: italic">She must be delirious,</span>he thought, scooping up the woman and dashing back to her purple cloak and wrapping it around her before picking her up again. He'd need to construct a shelter quickly. The man sighed again, carrying Magdalena over to a spot on the ground with less ash covering it than the rest of the town, and began to construct a simple tent.<br/><br/>It didn't take Epsil long, about thirty minutes of working, and he had a small lean-to created out of the charred wood and scraps of cloth he'd managed to scavenge. A small flame was in the center of the shelter, a pot of water boiling cloth for bandages. He set his bladed chain on the ground, and moved over close to Magdalena. Her skin was feverish, and she was most likely dehydrated. He found his waterskin and pressed it into her hand. "Drink. It will help," he murmured. A few minutes passed, and he pulled a skinny knife out of his boot, using it to pull the bandages out of the boiling water. He shook the access water off, and waited for them to cool, then wrapped them around Magdalena's arm. "Rest," he commanded, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. "You're safe now, rest."<br/><span style="font-style: italic">What have I gotten myself into...?</span>