Merrin couldn't help but follow the purse's arc through the air with her eyes until Kendath caught it, and than cast a disbelieving look at Garthag's back. Well. That would be helpful. "You could see a healer now," she suggested impishly with a grin at Kendath as Garthag limped off. The expression felt surprisingly alien. "And perhaps we can get some horses after all?"

Having hastily moved out from behind the inn as per the wishes of its irritable keeper, Merrin fingered the saber at her side. Perhaps payment would not be amiss in that direction, if there was any left over.

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Kendath snatched the purse out of the air and peered inside. His eyebrows nearly shot off the top of his face. The coins flashed a golden smirk in response. He tucked the gold away and stared after Garthag's limping form. He had something to share after all.

"Stables then," he decided. Healer could come later. Perhaps Merrin would forget by then. Not that he needed a healer in the first place.

The stables were on the other side of Ashdale, run by a man who likely couldn't tell his head from his rear end. Kendath couldn't either. He hadn't a professional eye for beasts, but the ones in stock appeared to be in fit condition at least. He emerged an hour later leading the results of his heated haggling duel - four fully saddled and not very cooperative horses.

"Pick your favorite," he told Merrin. "The mare has a formidable kick. The one next to her bites. This one's too spirited. And this one..." He paused and appraised the stallion with a frown. He experimentally tugged on its halter.

Next thing he knew, he was picking himself off the dusty ground. He rubbed his sore knees and swore a pair of hooves had imprinted themselves on the greaves. "This one doesn't like me," he finished lamely. Must be his lack of charm again... or perhaps the scent of dragon that pervaded his leather armor. He deemed the former more plausible.

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"You'd better not have that one, then," said Merrin, eying it appraisingly. Very carefully avoiding the stallion's shifting hooves she took its halter and snatched her hand back in alarm before large teeth closed on air with a snap. There was a pause in which horse and girl gave each other distinctly unimpressed looks. "I don't think it likes me either, if it comes to that," Merrin concluded.

She fared little better with the others - the spirited one dropped her in the dirt quite as effectively as the stallion had Kendath, though perhaps less violently; and the one that bit unfortunately did so as fast as a striking snake. Merrin had to move backward with such alacrity that she nearly found herself dumped into the dirt for a second time.

"Right," she said, dusting herself off and snatching at the reins of the one that ostensibly had a nasty kick. Couldn't be worse than fearing for a valuable appendage whenever you went near your mount. "The one with the kick it is."

Merrin couldn't deny that horses would be useful, but she had a sad lack of any type of affinity for them. "Maybe it's an acquired taste, horses," she said breathlessly after finding - having chased the silly animal in circles - that this particular mare not only had a nasty kick, she had an entire arsenal of tricks to keep one from ever mounting her. "Let's go see if Garthag wants the stallion."

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Evlyn could, Kendath added silently. He might even give the stallion a sugar cube if it ended up killing her. He scanned the remaining three horses and at last chose the spirited dappled gray, which narrowly avoided biting his ear off. He yanked hard on the reins, which only served to further incense it. His armor only smelled like sulfur. Dragon scent his foot...

He jerked on the reins again and hurriedly handed the biting one's halter to Merrin. Belatedly he realized - with a sensation of dread that sank all the way to his toes - that his mistake had left him with the stallion that didn't like him.

Kendath had never been more terrified in his life.

A half hour later found them standing a few streets down outside what appeared to be a shop, where Garthag had decided to wait for them. Kendath handed the stallion over with a smile and a wave. It might actually like the wizard more. It'd been a longer time since Kalma had hung around.

"Ready to go," he declared more or less intrepidly. His eagerness could be attributed to the shop right next to them. Too late for his own good, he'd realized the sign read Bertha's Infirmary.

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Luckily for Kendath, Merrin was none too experienced in the field of horses in general. Her mare was currently dancing in circles, trying occasionally to rise on her back hooves, and Merrin was making grabs for the reins while attempting to avoid them and still keep a hold on the gelding.

Eventually she ended up with two set of reins held tightly captive - the only problem being that this made it difficult to move with any sort of ease. "Kendath," she said breathlessly, "help me tie these up, will you? So we can - stay still, idiot animal - go inside?"

Evidently the distractions hadn't been quite enough for the sign to escape her notice.

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"Inside? Inside where? We're leaving," Kendath retaliated, his voice interestingly more high pitched than usual. He innocently looked around, not quite paying attention to the prancing gelding... and found himself in the dust yet again. This time on his face. Upon climbing back to his feet, he uttered a fluent imprecation and lunged for the beast.

Three bruises and two more sprawls in the dirt later, all four horses were securely tethered on their respective posts. Panting hard, Kendath picked himself back up and dusted himself off. "Horses like carrots, right."

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"Does it matter?" said Merrin, backing away hastily and putting a finger that hadn't quite escaped the gelding's teeth into her mouth. She eyed the less than amiable beast and grasped Kendath's hand as if to drag him bodily inside. "Ow. Come on."

She seemed to have decided that the best way to get him in there was simply to not discuss it at all, considering that brute force would get her nowhere very quickly. "Maybe they'll calm down a bit."

Inside there was a distinct smell of herbs along with a meticulous cleanliness pervading every corner that was almost disconcerting. Upon the sound of the door closing, which triggered a small clear bell, a very short woman with greying hair poked her head through the door of the back room and bustled in drying her hands. If there was a stereotype for 'motherly', this was it, reflected Merrin with a grin.

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Kendath took one look at Bertha and was impaled by a twinge of deja vu. Aside from her pudgier nose, she bore an uncanny resemblance to another old lady he'd met at a similar village. He wondered anxiously if this woman had any roosters.

"My, do you two look..." She scrupled to search for a tactful adjective. "Back from the road!" She nodded and flashed a warm smile that almost had Kendath dashing back out the door.

He cringed and cleared his throat. "We... ah..."

"Yes, yes. I see that." Her acute green eyes settled themselves on Merrin's wrist and his own hastily bandaged wound. "If you'll come this way..." She led them through the antechamber to a larger roomed lined with cots. A young blonde woman in the first cot wailed something incoherent. Bertha sighed, shot her two new patients an apologetic look, and went to attend the wailing. "The poor damsel's not quite right in the head, you see," she elucidated upon her return five minutes later. "Something about a hamster..."

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Merrin looked pleasantly surprised with herself that she'd even managed to get Kendath this far. "I'm Merrin," she said by way of introduction, "and this is Kendath" - she indicated him - "and we're just about to be off again, but I don't - I mean - I don't think - " she stopped with a very peculiar look on her face. How to say this without sounding - "I don't think he should ride a horse with - that," she ended up finishing, going rather red. Even that sounded rather too much like she was a tad motherly herself.

The returning knowing smile was enough to make her blush furiously. The short round woman turned an expectant look on Kendath and a moment later an extremely disapproving one on the makeshift bandaging of his midsection. "Dear dear, what did you use, sandpaper?"

In another moment she had gone - the only descriptive word for how she moved that Merrin could think of was bustled - ostensibly to collect necessary accouterments.

"She's right, you know," said Merrin, and tried futilely to get him to lean back. "Come on, I'll help you."

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"You might die if you don't get your wrist looked at," Kendath pointed out. Sandpaper. A pity the Renegade healer wasn't present to hear this. He wasn't inclined on attending Bertha's funeral either. With another glare that could curdle milk, he let Merrin push him onto the nearest cot.

Bertha bustled back with a jar of unguent, a basin of water, a rag, and a roll of bandages that could probably mummify Gyre if the healer wanted it to. "Oh good, you're relaxed," she said, still with that terrifying smile. "Before I begin, take this." She handed him a peridot-hued leaf that looked suspiciously like the one the other woman had harangued him for in Port Dragonhelm. Warm memories. When he only held it with a blank expression, Bertha released an exasperated sigh. "You're supposed to chew it, dear."

"Right," Kendath muttered, putting the leaf in his mouth. It tasted suspiciously like... a leaf. Instantly he felt his abdomen going numb. The Meiltha healers did it rather differently. First of all, the process he knew was unutterably painful. And second of all, he didn't remember any leaves.

Lady Elayne was wailing for her hamster again. Bertha rolled her eyes and held up a finger, indicating she'd be back momentarily.

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Merrin had a most peculiar expression on her face, the meaning of which could not be fathomed unless one recognized the signs of her desperately trying not to laugh. She had it smothered within a few uncertain seconds, though, likely because it was replaced with an entirely authentic one of dismay.

"You should be dead!" she exclaimed, unwinding bloodstained bandage with alarm quickly replacing dismay. "Gods, Kendath, you should have said something! I - " She went an extremely bright shade of crimson recalling how she'd clung to him in those foggy moments after escaping the Meiltha camp. "Oh - I am sorry."

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"Sorry about what?" Kendath retorted. In reality, the sight of the blood still oozing from his stomach area fazed even him. The Renegade healer had done the job. So the pain still somewhat accompanied whatever it was hammering on his head, and he'd been feeling feverish after the battle...

He was still alive. If he should be dead, he would have died by then. Such was his personal mantra.

He frowned at his wound a moment longer, at the leather gumming with the dried blood. Right. He was still alive. Jolly as ever. A desperate attempt to change the subject resulted in, "A good thing we didn't go hamster hunting after all." He jerked his head at the blubbering Lady Elayne.

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Merrin did very little more than glance up. She was wearing an expression of pained concentration such that Bertha's return made her start considerably.

Surprisingly all the little woman did was seat herself and probe experimentally at Kendath's midsection in general. "Now, does that hurt, dearie? I'll give the coltsfoot a moment longer to work, shall I?"

And she was off again, leaving a slightly perplexed Merrin, who seemed to think there was quite a bit more cause for concern than that. "Did I sound rather arrogant about - er - hamster-hunting?" she asked anxiously while still unwinding sodden bandages, likely with infinitely more care than she would have for herself. "I didn't mean to, it was just...Garthag...and Evlyn...and...I couldn't do it," she finished. "Bounty hunting...it just wasn't right."

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Kendath twitched noticeably when Bertha returned. Her poking at his wound also coerced his stifled grimace. Yes, that did hurt. No, apology not accepted. Please, go away.

He breathed easier when she really did leave. "Hamster hunting. Should have known better. Your speaking up likely saved me a suicide." Again, he jerked his head at Lady Elayne in the cot across from him. However her last statement did deserve a tinge of irony. "Right? I'll ask you one thing, Merrin. Define morality. What actions in our lives aren't done out of selfishness?"

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This entirely unexpected question gave Merrin enough pause that she gave up momentarily and sat back with a perplexed frown. "I think," she said slowly, "we're not selfish when...we care about people other than ourselves. Morality is...caring."

She stopped, biting her lip. "If nobody cared about anybody other then themselves, we'd all be selfish. I cared about what happened to whoever that person was that would be being hunted."

There was a long pause in which she toyed with a fold of coverlet, and eventually looked up at him. "You cared...or you wouldn't have come for me. Yesterday. That wasn't selfish - you - you could have died...you could have..."

Merrin trailed off, staring in bemusement down at the roll of bandages and eventually at Kendath rather tentatively. "You can't pretend that was selfish."

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Can't pretend? I can't pretend I didn't come after you simply because I would have died if I hadn't? Simply because you're the only reason I ever find meaning in life? So I rescued you to preserve my own sanity. If that's not selfish, tell me what is.

None of this passed through Kendath's mouth. None of this he dared to utter upon looking into those cobalt blue eyes, so pure and full of the vitality he loved. Instead he only stared at her, his expression unreadable, his gaze boring into hers. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The frozen silence was shattered by the healer's return. Kendath averted his gaze and tried not to flinch again when Bertha came poking. "Does it still hurt, dearie?"

"Does what hurt?"

"Lovely. The coltsfoot is working, dearie." She patted Kendath's head - ruffling a bit of his hair - and began scrubbing her hands in the water basin.

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