When I’m gone

He carried her until she recovered, a weight upon his back that he did not begrudge nor resent. Reclusive and stoic though he was, Stjornuati was a healer and had always been. Healers did not leave those ailing behind, especially on borders belonging to an incompassionate leader. So he carried her with him until she stirred, Mordfjall looming in the distance. They were close enough that the man had caches close by, more the nearer they got to his mountain.

Carefully, the Jarl shed her from his shoulders and spine, laying her in a spot of moonlight. “Kona,” He started in their shared language. “How are you feeling?”

---

@Arnarkla
Near mordfjall but not quite there

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Her ears had laid pinned against her skull for most of the journey. Skin flushed and hot from the ignominy. She felt akin to a taxidermied skin with its heart still beating, draped over the man's back. 

The numbness in her legs didn't vanish for quite some time. Given how long it's lasted, she had experienced quite an episode. Shortened, she presumed, by whatever herb he had given her. Every now and then, she tried flexing a muscle, gradually reacquiring the sensation of movement. By the time the herbalist slowed to a stop, there was only the residual tingling left in her limbs. 

Back upon the ground, she felt more at ease. Feathers still a bit ruffled. Her left ear focused on the flaxen man's words as she found her paws. She leaned back to stretch out her forelimbs, and then her hind ones. 

“Ég það gott.” — I'm fine.

Arnarkla regarded him with her cold gaze, still wary.

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He let her acclimate to being upon the earth once more, taking the chance to stretch out his own muscles, tired from the effort but not completely worn. He would sleep well tonight, surely. A low groan as he stretched his neck, rolled his shoulders and settled back on his haunches to watch around them rather than stare and watch her. There was no need to, in close enough proximity that he could hear and sense her movements, slow and exaggerated as they were.

“Fine.” Curious. The female did not express concern over this situation. Telling.

“This has happened before,” He stated his assumption, finally turning his head to look at the woman who so easily stood where she had not been able to before.
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She hummed.

“Hver ber sína bölvun.” — Everyone carries their own curse.

Eyes still haunting, her face softened some. She gave her hide a small shake, mindful of her head, as if to rid herself of the dusting of stress.

“Ég býst að ég ætti að þakka þér,” — I guess I should thank you. she said by way of "thanks". Arnarkla was not so rude as to neglect appreciation for what he had done. He needn't have wasted time and herb upon her. She wouldn't have. The wraith had herself to look after and, evidently, she was a piece of work.

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“Satt.” — True. Her lack of explanation was a clear indication that it was not his business, and so he heeded her warding of the subject.

“Það er engin þörf. Ég er heilari; það er það sem ég geri. Auk þess,” — There is no need. I am a healer; it is what I do. Besides, he paused, scoffing. Only now did he show any more than mild irritation over the way it had all gone. “Ég held að þessi strákur hefði ekki hjálpað þér, eða leyft sínum eigin að hjálpa þér.” — I don't think that boy would have helped you, or allowed his own to help you. @Vanille and @Igor had been alright. Perhaps he would seek them out to discover why they let such a petulant creature lead them.

“Vaknaðir þú þarna?” — Did you awaken there?
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He was humble. Making the acquaintance of a healer was always wise. Yet she refrained from ever growing dependent on one. She dreaded being tended to.

A small smirk was made when he spoke of the pale wolf that muttered in tongues. Wondered if she would have been any different. Why waste resources on a stranger?

“Mér líkar ekki að vera vandamál neins.” — I don't like to be anyone's problem.

That included healers.

His question made her brows furrow and her gaze drift.

“Já...” — Yes... she replied, voice far away as she took in the landscape enveloping them. The mountain that loomed beckoningly, calling for her mountain blood. The range behind them where she had woken. Scenes she had come across before in her endless travels. Yet she couldn't recall the first step she had taken into this land.

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