As the sorceress proclaimed her inexperience with wounds, Traben rolled his eyes. With a whispered word in the elven tongue to placate his wolves, he started up the side of the wagon. Reaching the top, he pulls a small bag that had been slung across his back off, setting it next to the wounded woman. From it he pulled some linen bandages and a small ceramic jar, to be placed on the wood of the wagon, at the ready.

"Fortunate, because I was nearby with my bow, and this woman decided to save your life. This is going to hurt, a lot. First thing first, though, I need you on your side. Forgive me," he says as he rolls the woman onto her side. "Goblins usually use barbed or serrated arrows. I'm going to have to push at least the head the rest of the through to remove it. Bite down on this." Reaching into his bag again, he draws out a simple strip of leather, worn with tooth marks. Passing it to the woman, he wasted no time in grasping the protruding end of the arrow. Once he was sure she was as ready as she was going to get, he placed his free hand at her hip to brace her and plied his strength against it, his face set in a determined grimace.

Once the head of the arrow was visible, he quickly snapped the other end off as close to the woman's skin as he dared. Moving his now free hand to the other end of the arrow, he drew it out smoothly. As quickly as he could he pressed bandaging to the exit wound and let the woman back down on her back. More bandaging followed on the entrance wound, and he applied pressure with one hand.

"And now we wait for the bleeding to stop, unless there's a healer among these men. I have a poultice that will help with healing, but it is nothing against a druid's or cleric's magic." Traben wiped a bead of sweat away from his temple with his free hand, waiting patiently and finally taking the time to look at the woman's face, examining her features.