Raln's thoughts were on the burning city they were leaving behind. At least they had done damage to the Mechanists, but it was far from enough. The woods, comparatively, were too quiet. The rain had stopped, and rivulets of water ran through the mud at their feet.

"Not being able to heal yourself doesn't sound like much of a [i]price[/i] to me," he muttered. "That's like saying it's a curse that you're mortal like the rest of us." Maybe he'd offended her. He didn't quite care at the moment -- nor was he in the mood to go on a quest for a salve for one stranger's wound when so many of his closest friends had fallen in battle not so long ago.

"I'm not ungrateful for what you've done, but what are you and where do you come from? Are there [i]more[/i] of you? And why aren't you with them?"