Saeril didn't move from her spot, only to just in amusement when her godson made room for her. Whether if he knew it or not, his injury had to remain covered, so she stayed where she was. Scanning his young Dwarven facials, where he had no beard, she lightly smoothed a hand on his cheek, to his lower jaw. There was pity in her luminous eyes, and she wanted to help him so badly, the she-elf feared about his upcoming fate, more than anything in her entire Elven life. 

Making up her mind, Saeril looked at the injury on his leg, and back up to him. "I'll go grab some medicine", she quietly told him. "We'll quickly tend to it, and we'll be on our way", the she-elf bored her eyes at him, a motherly glare. "Stay here", it was serious. Standing up to her full height, Saeril covered her face with her hood, and before anybody noticed, she slipped out. What she didn't know, was that they made their slip as soon as she left.