[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three/Morning of Day Four [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Satilla, Sana, Group In General [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	The musings of the rest of the party as good as faded to inarticulate sounds in Keystone's ears. So long as it registered as common speech to his conscious brain, he intentionally ignored it. Satilla's instruction to the broad man stood as an exception to this; Keystone was exceptionally interested in what the group's dedicated healer had to say about the well being of the semi-conscious gypsy. The feat of coordination necessary to transfer Sana from a one-handed suspension from the ankles to a more cradled position without first setting her down was a little awkward; not quite the kind of thing that he committed to muscle memory from exhaustive training. The first, instinctive thought was to toss the entirety of her weight up with a slight rotation and deftly catch her in a manner more in line with the healer's wishes. Of course, that might result in something worse if a foot slipped on the cold ground below, not to mention the jostling might not be the best idea for the more delicate state of his friend. 

	So, as quickly as he dared, Keystone turned Sana over in his arms and and lowered her legs, sliding his arm up to hold her above the knee and under her arms. Her head rested upon the hardened leather of his coat covering his shoulder. It was a solid, supporting perch, if not the most cushiony. Satilla's plea to postpone the squabble for a later time was taken into due consideration, discretion being a pragmatic choice at that juncture. His own protective instincts were running hot just then, and though he remained more or less silently attentive during this particular event, he positioned himself as to create an angry, living barrier between Sana and Thomas. His back was facing toward him, giving everyone in that direction good view of oil hardened, segmented pieces of chevroned leather and an empty knife sheath. It also served to indicate his priority at the moment, though from one moment to the next priorities had a way of changing. 

	[color=b8860b]"We ought get 'er someplace warmer, yeah?"[/color] he intoned to Satilla, tilting his head toward the cave entrance. He followed up with louder words, broadcast to anyone who was listening, [color=b8860b]"Ey! I got a big cloak, top of my pack that Sana'd 'preciate being wrapped in just now. Someone be a lamb an' grab that, wouldja?"[/color]