It only seems right...

"I'll heal your man, Karl. It only seems right." You say suddenly, making both men stare at you.

"I suppose you can, being a paladin. Fine, I permit it. We won't move against Krenvich until tomorrow afternoon. I'll summon you when it's time." You nod in understanding. That gives enough time to heal the man and have a rest.

You walk out of the tent and into the camp proper. The place where your fire raged is obvious, two tents lie in burnt ruins, and there's a large, black stain on the palisade. Beside the ruined tents you spot a man laying on a sleeping bag, though you cannot see much else. Without exchanging a word with Firewater, who you can feel is staring at you in a mixture of anger and wonderment, you stride over towards the man lying in supine. Karl's man follows you quickly. "Where is he burnt?" You ask crisply, as you stride. No doubt your amazement with him is mutual, the man can't take his eyes off you. Though you're much better at hiding it. "Over his chest and right shoulder down to his arm. He had to fight his way through the burning tent to escape it." Firewater says in his strange accent. You nod. This sounds like it will take hours.

"I'll need a tent to do my work." You state. "Can you find me one? It will be no good if he's exposed to the elements." Firewater nods quickly, darting away. You watch as he runs, as agile as a fox, over to a nearby tent and begins unpacking it with blinding speed. Soon enough, it's empty, and you both have taken the burnt man inside. Dancingtide's injuries are extensive, and you feel a pang of guilt at what you've done to him. Burns lance all the way across his torso and up his right arm as Firewater said. You suck air against your teeth at the sight. Without you, the man would certainly die. If the burns themselves didn't end him, an infection surely would. Kneeling by the man's side, you look down at him to see that he's looking right up at you. "A healer...?" He asks, his accent nearly identical to his compatriot. You nod silently. The burnt man allows a smile to spread across his unburnt face, and he leans back and closes his eyes. Dancingtide's skin is even darker than his friend's, though you didn't think it possible. It seems to be the colour of dark chocolate, something you've seen only once, the alderman of your old town purchased some from a travelling merchant. Your inquisitive mind heaves with the weight of all the questions you have for him. Questions, of course, that will have to wait until you have saved this man from ****.

Firewater watches from outside, until you tell him to leave. You need to focus after all. "Okay El-an-or." He says haltingly. "Save my cousin."
"I'll do my best. Though this will take a few hours." You respond, looking at Firewater meaningfully. After one last look at his friend, and then at you, he departs.

You slide off your vambraces, leaving all of your arms unarmoured, and kneel beside the wounded man. You take a deep breath and calm your mind. You'll be here for awhile, after all. Doubt plagues your mind. Doubt, and guilt.

(If you're having trouble reading Firewater and Dancingtide's accents, just think of a Nigerian accent.)