[color=8882be][i]Hearing a rider at the front of the house, Sigurd lay on his cot, dejectedly awaiting his discovery. It wouldn't be long before he was killed, he was sure. The pain, was lessened slightly, though he felt it less today, having grown used to the dull aching. He wondered if the visitor was the person who'd brought him here, and left him the water and bread. They had been good, but lacking in the quantity his aching body desired. He wondered who would do this for him, was he back in Germany? Sigurd couldn't recall anything after his crash landing yesterday. Still, he was grateful that someone had taken time to see to his leg, though he wondered if it was so they could get information out of him later or because they were genuinely kind people, he'd met both kinds among the Fuer's many officers. 

Sigurd, tired to call out, but managed little more than a hoarse wheezing cough, with his dry mouth and throat. He caught himself hoping it was an enemy coming to kill him, just so the pain would stop. He admonished himself, mentally, and looked to the doorway to see who had entered the house.[/i][/color]