Ugh... wolves. Why couldn't the man enjoy a good cluster of housecats. Assallya, despite being an elf, despised all things of the forest. She couldn't stand tripping over roots, the bugs, the wildlife and the horrible smells of rotting plant matter! That only served to remind her of swamps. Okay, so there was something worse than forests and jungles. Why couldn't these northern people live in a nice good desert?

"Oh forgive me," the elven courtesan said as Traben wrapped her lithe figure in bandages, "I am Assallya Kressair, bard, dancer, sorceress and purveyor of fine quality charms and potions. I'd courtesy... but..."

It was her human name. Her elven name she rarely used. Assa'Alliyeh Kressanthair was a pretentious name and she hated the elvish peoples, she hated being reminded of them. The elves hadn't treated her very well and saw her as a false elf or an uncivilized cousin from afar simply because she didn't know the appropriate rights and customs.

The young elf gestured towards the wagon they were perched atop and finished the gesture with four fingers pointed in the direction of her wound.