[b]"Gaaahhh~! You little... ahhhhahahaha!"[/b] Ronan yelled out several stifled curses before breaking down into a fit of laughter. The bandit's leg was bloody, the knife having sunk deep into his thigh muscle. He soon lost balance, and one of his subordinates had to swiftly catch him and put his arm over their shoulder. One of the other bandits drew their own knife and advanced on Alianor, meaning to end her life, but Ronan shouted for him to stop. [b]"Let her be Moore! This is the first bit of spirit I've seen out of her since we captured her- by the fires, you don't half have a mean streak do you princess? Make sure she doesn't try anything else before we get... ah damn that smarts... back to the camp."[/b]

Despite the large, painful wound Ronan could not stop grinning. This was exactly what he wanted - to give Alianor a taste of what it meant to live life like one was meant to, feeling emotion rather than constraining it, and being part of the natural cycle of bloodshed and consumption that made the world go round. He did not remove the large knife from his thigh, knowing that to do so would only make the problem worse. Rather, he spent the rest of the hunting trip hopping alongside the bandit who was supporting him. They soon decided to turn back, Ronan finding it too difficult to continue. Alianor was watched carefully by the other bandits, who kept their weapons ready in case she attempted something else.

Soon Ronan was at the gates of his home once more. The group was let inside, and Ronan quickly placed on a straw mat next to the fire. Gort soon lumbered over and examined him, taking out the knife with a swift jerk and stemming the fresh red flow with an old rag that he seemed to keep for such occasions. Once the wound stopped bleeding, Gort removed the rag and placed his hands upon Ronan's knee - Ronan fliching terribly as he felt the large objects pressing down on him. There was a soft light around Ronan's leg, and a wave of fresh pain shot through his body - it was like every muscle in his form was on fire, forcing him to seize and twist horribly for a few seconds before Gort drew away, the wound having been healed and the flesh knit together once more. Gort washed his hands in a basin of water, looking with a slightly disapproving frown at Ronan, then an even more disapproving one at Alianor. Clearly he could work out what happened.

[b]"Do be careful."[/b] He grunted.

[b]"Oh that's easy for you to say. It's not like this sort of thing is much of a problem for you."[/b] Ronan sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. [b]"I'll be fine, Gort. Do me a favour though- princess needs to learn how to gut a deer, she killed it on the hunt. Did well - real proud of her... but I need a lie down."[/b]

[b]"Alright."[/b] Gort said simply. He motioned for Alianor to follow him to where the bandits had laid out the fresh carcass. Gort was not the person to force Alianor into participating, but he was more than willing to demonstrate such a useful skill to the young woman.