The pain continued to sear up and down his arm. The Arcfire had surely caused some damage, and, even though he did not bleed, he felt as if he could die from the pain. The skin was peeling away now, and he was pretty sure that he smelled like burned sorcerer. Not a stench he would like to smell when someone announced that they were cooking dinner. What was he supposed to do now? He knew that one was to douse a burn with water, but was it hot or cold water? He remembered his mother comforting him as he scampered up, wailing, and holding a burn on his tiny finger from playing with a fire tome.
The sound of hooves rang in his ears, and he looked up to see a horse and rider. The rider, red haired and brown eyed, held out a hand toward him and offered a second seat on the saddle. Talbot didn’t refuse it. He bent down and took the Arcwind under his arm, and grabbed Phil’s arm. He pulled himself onto the horse and sat behind the cavalier. He didn’t say anything; not a thank you, or a complaint. If he were to part his lips, he would let out a groan. He made sure to keep the tome close to him, and made sure not to brush his arm against anything of the sort.
Something fell from the sky and landed on him. It was a thin substance, and he winced. For some reason he knew what it was. [i]Ew.[/i] he winced as the wiped the blood away from his hair and clothes. He felt very clumsy, only being able to use one arm to hold his book and onto the horse. The one who attacked the Pegasus Knight was demanding information. He watched the regal man, and huffed loudly. 
[b]”We are… the Shepherds.”[/b] Talbot grunted. The sorcerer didn’t know what else to tell him. That they were just a band of… well… bandits? [b]”These people are chasing us. They want us dead. We’re defending ourselves.”[/b] his brown eyes watched him closely. He wore the colors of Plegia. Was he the prince…? [b]”Who are you?”[/b]