Ryathane glanced up at every slight movement the elf made, his muscles tense and ready for action if she suddenly had a lapse in civility, but remained careful to not put any extra pressure on Aeylisia’s wound. So far, she had not adhered to the lore he had heard about her race, but one never knew. He could feel the tightness of her muscles beneath his touch. He could not help but feel pity for her condition. The wound looked bad, and he could imagine how much worse it must feel. Unless, of course, elves had a higher pain tolerance than humans, which was a good possibility.
	He paused and made a gentle “huh” noise at how little she seemed to know about humans, before the healing rate she had given sunk in. A few days? The wound he tended to now would heal in only [i]a few days?[/i] A hint of envy flashed in his eyes, replacing most of the pity he had felt.
	“Take my word for it. That’s quicker,” he grumbled as he finished applying the liquid. 
	Satisfied that he had covered the entirety of the gashes, he placed the now soiled cloth on the ground and exchanged it for the needle and thread he had handed Aeylisia. Holding one item in each hand, he leaned back from the shadow of the tree to where a patch of moonlight filtered through the canopy above, and used it to easier thread the needle.
	With motions all too familiar, he pulled the thread through a sufficient amount, swiftly pulled a dagger from his boot, cut the thread, and returned the weapon to its hidden sheath. He paused, giving the liquid an extra moment to take full effect and numb the wound more than just skin deep.
	“You shouldn’t, but let me know if you feel anything. Never tested this stuff on an elf before.” With well-practiced motions, he slowly and carefully began suturing the cuts, their bleeding slowing faster than he expected. He kept a close eye on her reactions, watching for any signs of pain. “It works as a disinfectant, too.”
 	Questions ran through his head as he worked: After all these years, why would one of the elven race resurface now? Sure, he had caught her, but after so many years of no reliable reported sightings, it was a bit suspicious. Did the king know, really [i]know,[/i] about their existence? If he did, how, and why did he want one? Did the elves know that they were wanted by royalty?
	“So,” he said lightly, in part to pose as a distraction for Aeylisia, as well as in the hope he might get an answer to at least one of the many curious happenings of late. “What brought you to this forest, princess?” He smirked at the nickname, the action audible in his voice. “Sniff out a particularly tasty-smelling rabbit or something?”