Taliaren found the body drifting gently in a river in the forest. Silently moving along, more like a daydreamer than a corpse. Initially, the young druidess panicked - sure, she knew how to heal someone in theory, but in practice it would be her mother, Talara, who'd handle that sort of thing, especially with anything serious. She'd only been in the area to gather sprigs of holly, for Talara's own spells, but it did mean she was at least somewhat prepared for the circumstance she now faced.

She didn't realise what it was at first. From a distance, it looked like a fallen branch floating in the water. But, of course, this was clearly not true up close. Transitioning first to a fast walk, then to a run, Taliaren got to the edge and waded in to get to it, whoever it was.

An older boy or a younger man. Countless injuries. Broken bones. Stab wounds. Missing several teeth. Very bad all round. But wait... was he still breathing? Perhaps he could still be saved, but Taliaren doubted her own abilities. Yet what life was still in him would surely have left by the time it would take her to bring him home. No, she must do this herself. There would be no one else who could.

She tried to steady her breathing, think carefully about what she was doing, calm down. What did she need for a healing ritual? Holly, she had that. She made Earth's Blood, but that took time, it was a clay-like substance made from water (which she had an abundance of) and a particular kind of dirt (which was harder to find). Surely by now he was close to death. Taliaren worked faster.

Pulling the body from the river, she marked a circle each on the forehead, palms, and heels in Earth's Blood. She smashed a chunk of chalk with her axe and use the powder to draw a circle on the ground around him. She wrapped every wound (of which there were many) in willow bark. At last, she held the sprig of holly in front of his nose and set it alight. According to what she had been taught, either the smell of burning would wake him up or the fire would reach her hand and she would have to stop.

Crying now, she thanked the river for its water, the holly for its sprigs, the ground for its earth, and so on and so on (this was quite normal in her religion, though it just as well could have been fear-induced). She prayed to every god she knew of that this man would not die. The flame drew ever closer to her hand, and still nothing. But surely, surely it would be just a moment longer. Just a moment longer. Please, just a moment longer.