Three words hung in Petre's mind - orc, ogre, and troll.  The latter was the most terrifying, but if Tommy was alive and it was dead and burning, that pretty much answered that question.  He turned to Saul for a moment, "I'm going to set a watch and then send runners to both camps.  We knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened."  His head turned back to Tommy - Tommy might not have been one of his men, but he had a natural knack for fighting it seemed.  "So sorry, Valla..." he added as he left, barking commands muffled by the tent flap, growing louder and softer as it settled, masking the voice.<br/><br/>Saul simply looked at Tommy's now-healed wounds - the scars were still there but would fade as the magic finished all of its work, but he shook his head.  "These aren't bite marks or claws... they are weapons.  See... the poison is on the sides of the wounds, not embedded," he pointed out, whether to educate her or to work through it himself, "I should have paid more attention to the marshalls during my apprenticeship... less reading..." he laughed, a bit nervous.  "Well, I think he'll be fine until morning when I can be renewed by the dawning sun.  He needs to rest.  Is there anything else you remember?  I know its a stupid question for wizards, but where did he get the fire from?  And how did you get him back here?"  For a moment, it looked like he was going to waive the question off, but instead he sat back and took a deep breath, deciding that this tent was as good as any to sit in.