Brom drew back the severed whip and cast it aside, reaching to draw his sword from it's sheath.  Twisted runes run down the center of the blade, the color of fresh blood and glistening as if still wet in the light.<br/><br/>He grinned at her and flicked his gaze down to the wounded doe.  "You're a healer, aren't you?" he asked softly, "You can't just let her suffer... can you?  Go on... heal it..."