As soon as Trix seemed to get the hang of it, Asher returned his hand to the pommel of the saddle, listening to the jingle of horse tack and the sound of hooves on grass until Trix spoke again. He was glad that she caught on quickly, his temper even shorter than usual with everything that had happened. Adrenaline had burned out.

Having his injuries pointed out seemed to galvanize Asher, and with a shake of his head that tossed unruly black tendrils around his face he managed to gather his composure somewhat. [color=707070]"I am. But it can wait until we get back to Camp."[/color] His tone was just as matter-of-fact as Trix's, shutting her down swiftly as he straightened in his saddle.

But then, as much out of regret for turning down the offer of help so soon and to have something to occupy his mind and keep him alert, he adjusted his tone. He was glad that his slave had some practical skill. If he was going to be stuck with her for now it was better than having someone useless.[color=707070] "I thought you might be. Only Healers and Cooks keep that many plants drying. What are you called?"[/color]

They passed through some rocky outcroppings and suddenly the Kvaren camp was laid out before them, the hazy glow of cookfires flickering across the grassland amid the angular shapes of tents and the dark silhouettes of the inhabitants. There was a lot of activity for this time of night, the entire place roused with the returning of the brave raiders. 

Asher finally reigned Phantom in to a walk as they approached the camp, passing a gaggle of mounted sentries who were fresh and ready to fight off any Knights who might have followed the war party. There was a swirl of talking as news was passed between those coming and those who hadn't left, most of the voices calling out in Kvaren with fragments of Common mixed in. 

One of the largest tents they passed as they moved through the camp was the Healer's tent, many lanterns and braziers lighting the space inside while the medics worked their craft, their patients groaning or screaming with the pain of either their wounds or their treatments. 

There was a commotion behind Asher as the resident dogs took offense to the powerfully-built pups following the gray and black horse, and Asher stopped to look back. The Kvaren dogs tended to be brownish with black ticking and blonde highlights to help them blend into the long grasses, their long lean bodies similar to coyotes or jackals. A pack of six or seven had surrounded Trix's pups and were menacing them with bared teeth and a cacophony of shrill barking and howling, snapping at the pups ankles and faces. [color=707070]"Fredarik! Call your pack off, would you? Those two are with me. They're no use to all mauled!"[/color]

A man so stout he might have been half-dwarf waded in amongst the dogs, laying about with a club made of some kind of polished femur, knocking the sandy scruffy hounds aside, cursing at them all in general until the gray-black pups could pass. They seemed fairly unharmed, though even more terrified than before.

Once the two dogs were at Phantom's ankles once more, Asher continued through the camp towards the bigger tents until he found his own. There was slightly more space between the tents here, and the common areas were a little bit further away. Most of the big tents were quiet, unlit, except for the huge one in the middle. Asher finally reigned Phantom to a stop and took a few deep breaths before sliding out of the saddle. 

When his feet hit the ground he winced, pain shooting through the bruises on his legs that had been forgotten until now by the mercy of their ride. Leaning slightly against the horse until the light-headedness passed. A girl in her late teens approached, waiting at Phantom's head until he was ready to lead the horse away to be unsaddled, rubbed down, and put up for the night. [b]"You're wanted in the Warlord's tent, Swordmaster,"[/b] the girl informed him, telling him nothing that he hadn't expected as a matter of course. He nodded, tugging Trix's bag from the saddle and slinging it over his uninjured shoulder. [color=707070]"When you get to the remuda send someone back t keep an eye on this one until I get back from the meeting."[/color]

[color=707070]"Give me your hands and I'll help you down,"[/color] the Swordmaster said, reaching up for Trix's manacled wrists.