Talbot coughed lightly, covering said cough with his fist and squeezing his eyes shut. His throat was so dry… he could drink his own piss. Sure that would be disgusting… but he would do anything to survive. But thankfully, the fight wasn’t going to happen. There would not be any spilling of blood or screams of pain. No dead bodies hitting the floor. He sighed, but the sigh was short-lived as the cavalier tossed them a canteen sloshing with water and rations. Of course, that glutton Silas got to it before he could. When he was handed the canister and then the rations.
The very famished and parched sorcerer licked his lips and downed the rest of the water. When his throat was wet once more, he shoved down some rations, sating his roaring belly. Oh Gods above, his prayers had been answered! 
[b]”We’resh Shepherdsh al’ight.”[/b] he mumbled around a mouthful of bread and meats. [b]”The bestsh Shepherdsh. Cause, y’know, we left camp. And we ran to shave this woman!”[/b] he finished off his mouthful and blushed a bit. He probably sounded ridiculous. 
All of a sudden a woman came, and he watched as the red haired woman groveled at her feet. Arching an eyebrow and glancing at Silas, he handed him the rest of the rations. That was strange… [b]”Well, it seems like we’re all Shepherds. Funny that we found each other now.”[/b] he jumped when the man began to cough, and glanced at Silas. [b]”We didn’t choose to live in the desert. We couldn’t go to Valm and we couldn’t go to Ylisse.”[/b] he told him. [b]”Maybe if you stop opening your mouth so wide, not as much sand would go in.”[/b]

---

Ambra looked back at Zaino and frowned when he tossed back the first aid kid at the poor knight. Well, that was rude… The man was being nice to the other Shepherd. Her pale lips curled into a frown, and her reddish brow furrowed. Now, Ambra was sweet and kind, but neither was she blind. She went to the first aid kit and picked it up, dusting it off and handing it to the cavalier. But when she looked behind the pretty horse he had, she saw Zaino stagger to the floor.
[b]”[i]Oh no![/i]”[/b]
She ran up to the man, eyes flitting over the multiple wounds that ripped his clothes apart. They were all matted, gaping, and red. But the one on his abdomen caught her attention. Swollen, red at the edges, and grayish skin surrounding it. Poison. This was a slow poison, as if it was fast, he would be dead in a few minutes. Her hand moved to her satchel and pulled out a few parchment wrapped herbs, and opened it. The herb, a lance shaped leaf, had been cleanly stored in her bag. 
Snakeweed, it was called. And it did what it sounded like it did. It expelled poison from the body. She took the leaf and placed it into her mouth, chewing rapidly as she mashed it to a pulp with her teeth. In a few moments, she spat it into her hand and grimaced at the taste. With that, she placed it on the wound and rubbed it into the gash. The poultice would clean out the blood. And, just in case, she pulled out a tiny, metallic flask.
Well, she was a walking medical office, now wasn’t she? The juice of snakeweed would dispel the poison. Double the dose, double the certainty, she always said.
Tipping his head back, she poked her finger into his mouth and pried it open. She poured some of the juice into his mouth and massaged his throat to ease it down. There. Sighing, she sat back and looked at the wound. It was becoming less and less gray and the redness was disappearing. Perfect.