Healing

Wester watched while the copper-haired Fregurd woman healed his men, starting with Maxus, one of the youngest of the Drakos-El warriors remaining. He had a mouth on him, but it seemed to only annoy the woman instead of anger her. That was good, but Wester  was not surprised. Fregurd, though peaceful with the Drakos-El and Dynio's, were very well trained. Even the Dynio clan and Drakos-El clan's at their highest point could only just match the Fregurd clan. 

Wester shook his head as the woman headed to another man, this one an older gentleman who worked making leather goods and armor. Grat was his name, if Wester remembered correctly. He would be very useful in the future when they rebuilt the Drakos-El village. 

"Mr. Wester?" A voice asked behind Wester. He turned to find another Fregurd woman, accompanied by a group of men and women who were most likely healers. The woman outstretched her hand nervously. Wester took it and firmly shook her hand. Unlike the other woman, this woman seemed to not be too familiar with the Drakos-El greeting.

"Where do you need us?" She asked, her eyes following the other woman. Wester noticed that this woman was dressed differently than her leader. Some sign of superiority?

"There is another tent of injured directly to the left of this one," he told her, "half of you go there, the other half help that woman." Wester pointed to the copper-haired woman. The group dispersed after a moment. It seemed like they were nervous around him. He knew he and the Dynio dog, Kane, were well known for fighting prowess in the Fregurd clan-grounds, but did that make them intimidating, too?

Wester watched over the Fregurds as they healed, feeling pleased they were sent to aide. They were much better healers than Wester's men, so instead of having to let nearly twenty men and women die, he had those men alive and well, though soem would wish themselves dead. 

Wester walked over to where Maxus sat clutching his stump and cursing. "Mr. Maxus, you will control your mouth in front of the Fregurd," Wester said sharply, "they do not deserve anything but praise." 

Maxus looked at him darkly, then, after realized who Wester was, looked away. "Forgive me, Master Wester," he said quietly, barely making himself audible over the chanting of the Fregurds and moaning of the injured, "I dinnae mean to offend, but it tis' me I be mad at." He clutched his stump tighter.

Wester scowled. "Even a man without legs can fire a gun." With that, Wester walked away. He turned a little to see Maxus smiling slightly. Good. He wasn't the most polite of the Drakos-El, nor the most talented in the art of battle, but he had an unyielding will. He would be useful, yet.

"Are there other injured?"

Wester turned to see the copper-haired woman. She was nearly a head shorter than Wester, but as she stared at him, she seemed bigger and stronger. He looked past her and saw that the men, no longer moaning, were either healed or had another Fregurd healer at their side. This little woman was impressive.

"What is your name?" Wester asked. 

"Everyn," she replied, looking impatient.

"The others are healing them, Ms. Everyn," Wester said, turning back toward the tent's exit, "You will accompany me to the meeting tent. I have matters I would discuss with you, if that is acceptable." He stopped just before the exit and looked back, his face blank. He would give this woman no weakness, for now he knew what she probably was. The Fregurd trained only a few of their members to be this proficient, and all those members were either spies or warriors.

She was no warrior, he was sure of that.

"Sure," she said, letting out a sigh. Wester turned and left the tent, the smaller woman following after him.

The End

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