<strong>Shannon</strong><br/><br/>The city was no place for a wolf.<br/><br/>This singular truth kept Faolan outside, and Shannon alone. Pity, as the wolf proved to be better a companion than any he'd yet met within these walls of stone - smelled better too. The closeness of them made his skin itch, as it always did. The air here was filled with the scent of food, bodies, and all of it without the blessing of wind, keeping it stale and overly full. No birds sang, though the woman on the stand proved to be prettier than any of the miserable feathered pests.<br/><br/>He sighed and slouched against his chair, an untouched mug of watery ale sitting in front of him. Be here. That's all he knew, just be here. It was the next step in the plan, the next move in the dance, and all he knew; Leaf and stone, if he had a fletched arrow for everything he didn't know.<br/><br/>The air moved, signaling the opening of the door again, and then, a scream. High, female, young; alarmed and startled, but not truly terrified or in any danger. Fifteen paces away, not facing him, so she looked toward the window. Shannon stood, his movement fluid and small, and he missed his spear. That, he'd left, though he'd brought a length of stick along, hanging by a loose tether at his hip, its length brushing lightly against his snug leather breaches.<br/><br/>Through the crowd, he spotted the slumped man over the table, and then sighed. It wasn't his business, wasn't his duty; this wasn't his people, so he had no mandate to protect them, or lead them to wisdom he didn't have. Still, this may be the signal from his ethereal dancing partner, warning him of a change. Best be sure.<br/><br/>Pushing through the crowd, the wood elf approached the table. "Pardon," he said in serviceable common. "I know something of healing. Allow me to take a look." He reached out and started to check the slumped man for signs of health, or illness.