Ryathane stood as soon as Aeylisia took the scarf, his neck feeling oddly exposed without it. He tried to make his movements around her as slow and nonthreatening as possible. With the mix of emotions he already saw on her face, the last thing he wanted was to startle her; people and animals alike could be shockingly dangerous when hurt and on guard. 
	[b]“Why?”[/b] he heard her whisper. [b]“Why are you doing this?”[/b]
	The wanted poster crept into the front of his mind, before his conscience nagged at him again. She was a beautiful woman--an [i]elven[/i] woman, but female nonetheless--in distress. He could think about turning her in later.
	He snorted, both at his thoughts and her question. “You broke my bow.” He held out the cracked bow, letting the pieces dangle a moment to get his point across, before dropping it limply to the ground. He crossed his arms and looked down at her. “I can’t get a new one from you if you’re dead, now, can I?” He nudged the mangled weapon with the toe of his boot as he continued. “Good ones aren’t cheap, you know.”
	Refusing to admit she had saved his life, he turned to pick up the couple poison-tipped arrows still laying on the ground. He glanced back at Aeylisia as he replaced them in his quiver. “Get that bound.” He returned to stand beside her. “I haven’t got all night, you know.”
	He looked to the deceased manticore again, and gave a gruff sigh. [i]It’d better still be here when I get back,[/i] he thought darkly, then offered the elf a wary hand up, ready to draw it back, just in case.