By the time the group of Mercenaries had made their escape (Rhasha being kept upright, quite gratefully, thanks to Sevine and Dax), and a handful of Braves had caught up to them, Rhasha had managed to replenish enough magicka to cast a few small healing spells on himself... but he didn't dare to remove the shaft of the arrow from his chest, not until they got to a safer place. For all he knew, the arrow was the only thing keeping blood out of his lungs, or the only thing keeping pressure on a severed artery. The head and fletching had been clipped away for more ease of movement, but there was still something grating about having a piece of wood impaling oneself.

The Khajiit remained quiet during the argument between their elven members; he too would have gone back to try and rescue Jorwen, a good and brave man that deserved a better fate - but he could barely walk, and Daelin didn't seem to be back at 100% either. Sevine was hurt, and Dax also seemed to have some injuries. He hated to admit it, but Keegan was correct; they would have to abandon the mission well and truly if they wanted to make it back to Dawnstar in one piece. As it happened, the journey itself was hard enough to nearly finish them all off.

As the hours passed, Rhasha's exhaustion only grew; the only relief he had was healing his wound whenever he got the chance too. After retreating far enough away from the Kamal, the Khajiit had risked removing the arrow shaft from his chest, breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing a lack of arterial spray gushing out of his wound. Any blood that had pooled in his diaphragm must had been from torn capillaries, as it had subsided and clotted after only a few hours. By the first half-day of their journey, Rhasha could support himself after several bouts of healing magic. If the group had paused for longer than half hour bursts, he would had offered to try and forage for some more alchemical ingredients, create potions of healing or endurance. By the look on Keegan's face however, he didn't dare voice the option - the Khajiit got the distinct impression that Keegan was annoyed at him in some manner, but couldn't quite understand why. The least he could do to help was support Daelin when the journey became too much for the Bosmer, but in Rhasha's own exhaustion, wasn't able to do all that he would usually. As such, the sudden appearance of friendly "bandits" and their fort was a miracle for the starved and shivering lot. Food, water, and shelter from the wind was enough to lull Rhasha'Dar into a heavy sleep, despite the work from the mines. With all their bad luck, it seemed things were finally beginning to look up.

The next morning, the group was replenished, and although the atmosphere was still tense and down-trodden, Rhasha was beginning to feel somewhat better about things. Although he hadn't found the time to brew any potions (The cat had slept like the dead... perhaps an inappropriate comparison, with what may have happened), Dawnstar was but a day's journey away, and they could rejoin with the rest of their group. Daelin seemed to be in better spirits that day as well - or at the very least, better rested. Enough so for the two to have a short conversation; Rhasha had expressed his relief in seeing Daelin alive. Back at Nightgate, his chances hadn't looked good at all with the amount of injuries recieved, and the situation deteriorating outside.

"This one's family has some... unique situations." He had said in response to a query about his siblings. His elder brother had been in the gazette, leading to Rhasha writing a worried letter to his parents about supposed "killing of orphans". Ri'Nhazi had always been headstrong, but Rhasha knew he wouldn't be responsible for war crimes. Or at the very least, was unaware they occurred. As for his sister... well, everyone in the company probably knew of her affiliations now - a fact he had kept from the remainder of his family as a favour to her. Rhasha could only hope that both of them stayed as safe as they possibly could in their current lines of work. Wishing Daelin the best of luck in reuniting with his family, Rhasha began to wonder about his own, and felt a pang of guilt upon remembering where he had left his Azurah pendant. He regretted leaving it behind, simply because it was one of the few things that connected him with home, and with his family that were scattered across the continent.  For the rest of the journey, the Khajiit remained silent, contemplating about the lost necklace. Would Azurah see his anger and abandonment of her beloved token as an affront to her? And if so, what would she do?

As the group finally reached Dawnstar and went about their business, Rhasha was content in taking the smaller amount of pay simply from relief; they had made it, and it seemed everyone from the other group had made it back alive too. All they had lost was Jorwen, and even his fate was unknown to the recovering land group. Perhaps the Gods would be merciful, and Jorwen would appear alive and in one piece in due time. But as time passed and Rhasha went about his business; finally restocking and being able to replenish his potions supply, he took up a quiet corner in the Inn with his equipment, some food and wine, and a smouldering pipe dangling from his mouth. A cursory glance at the latest Gazette, left folded over on the bench beside him caught his attention, and mercy seemed to be in short supply between the printed words. Placing his half-crushed bear claw filled mortar down, further reading of the news article snapped up all of the Khajiit's scrutiny. [i]'Failed attempt on his life... abducted?'[/i] Rhasha's thoughts from earlier rushed back, and the paper slipped from his grasp in stunned silence. His brother, kidnapped? It sounded impossible to consider. Ri'Nhazi-Do was the biggest of his family, a cathay-raht that was considered tall and muscular even for his sub-specie. How could anyone have taken him? But that wasn't the only question now swimming around Rhasha'Dar's mind. How could he stay here when his sibling was gone... when his country lay under attack from beasts that sounded just as horrifying as the Kamal in Skyrim? What were his parents going to do, if their Riverhold came under attack? His youngest sister M'Vrasha still lived with them, and the thought of losing all three was a terrible one. 

Rhasha'Dar began grinding the bear claws again, but his expression was one of numbness. What path would he take now, with peril reaching both himself with his companions, and his family so far away? The answer was not known to him yet... so he would do what he was good at. Make potions, and help people.