<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f0/Marguerite_Tuerny02.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Marguerite Tuerny<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 2, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Night<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Camp Gǒu<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Nathan Hunter, Closed<br/><hr/>She noticed the wince, and her manner immediately became solicitous.<strong>"Are you all right?"</strong>She inquired with deep concern.<strong>"You weren't hit, were you?"</strong>Her hands moved over his body from hips to ribs and from ribs to arms, searching for injury.<strong>"You're bleeding!" </strong>She exclaimed sharply.<strong>"We have to stop!"</strong>She continued, her concern verging at the edge of panic.  If he were seriously hurt, she'd be alone.  On her own, without a man to protect and provide, or... she couldn't be alone!  She just couldn't!  And besides, the somewhat less selfish thought crossed her mind, it was all her fault.<br/><br/>Deft, though not particularly skilled fingers probed at the wet area in an attempt to determine just how badly he was wounded.<strong>"There's a bandage."</strong>She noted, feeling relief that he wasn't shot though her concern did not diminish.<strong>"We should stop so I can get a look at it."</strong>And, of course, the added benefit that she could dismount.  It felt like she someone was driving an axe into her from beneath.