Without turning his head, Ryathane glanced sideways at the emotion in Aeylisia’s voice when she mentioned the children who had fallen against the other manticore. An emotion he had not expected to hear from her kind.
	[i]Guess they [u]do[/u] have hearts,[/i] he thought, surprise flashing through his eyes.
	Ryathane gave a single, snorted chuckle at Aeylisia’s comment about his so-called camp.
	“Well, sorry to disappoint.” He smirked, then raised his eyebrows as she continued. “And, you know, it’s not like your leg looks like it’s about to fall off or anything.” He shifted to help Aeylisia lower herself down in what little way he could. He got the feeling she was a bit less likely to try to attack him anytime soon, but that was never reason enough to drop one’s guard.
	With her situated, he flicked his head to the side to force his bangs out of his eyes, and turned toward the tree. “I’ll be back.” He leisurely jogged the last few feet to the proud tree. Without stopping, he jumped up to the lowest branches, and nimbly climbed into the thick foliage, the texture of the bark familiar beneath his gloves.
	He pulled himself up onto the high branch he had used earlier. His pack still hung on one of the branches. He shifted over to another branch, the leaves ruffling slightly at his weight change, and reached over to a dark lump: the burlap sack he had used to transport his traps.
	Careful to not be seen, he pushed aside a leave-covered branch and looked through the foliage to the elf, checking that she was still there and not a figment of his imagination waiting to vanish the moment he looked away.
	Finding a good spot, he let the sack drop. It caught on a branch for a moment, then fell to the ground near the base of the tree. He quickly shouldered his pack, then climbed a safe distance down before letting himself drop. He landed cat-like, then quickly straightened and turned back to the elf.
	He sauntered toward Aeylisia. He let the strap of his pack fall into the crook of his elbow just above the end of his metal bracer.
	“Right.” He stopped beside Aeylisia and let the pack fall to the ground. He knelt beside it and flipped the top of the pack up, casting the elf a wary glance every couple seconds just in case. “Let’s get you patched up.” He reached inside and pulled out a fair-sized wooden box. He sat it on the ground and opened it, revealing a couple bottles and a wad of bandages taking up a good portion of the inside.
	He pulled a larger bottle and the bandages out, revealing a set of sewing needles and string beneath. He handed the supplies to the elf. “Need me to get it, or can you do it?”