When the sight of blood occurs - action must be taken, and Raelynn was quick to act. It had been a sword strike from behind. Away from the spine, and away from the organs. Sjara would be fine, she knew that much. Her clothing had taken the brunt of the blade and it was surely little more than a nick, even if it was a painful one. She knelt to Sjara’s side as the Bosmer lurched forward from the force of the strike, placing a hand carefully, and gently over the wound. She could feel that Magicka was swirling through her now, but in her years using magic, she knew that it did little in the way of help for blood wounds. It would revitalise the body and lift disease and curse, but flesh? it could not fix flesh so easily.

The cure for flesh wounds was fast action, and time. It was a small cut in the skin in what Raelynn knew to be a painful spot to take a hit, it was that area on a woman where ribs curved out to hips. That beautiful area of flesh that was womanly and soft. Men didn’t have it, men had hard bodies, and Raelynn imagines that while a woman’s skin was soft and supple, a man’s might be tough and stringy. She knew that wasn’t exactly true, but it seemed logical in her mind. 

She let the magicka flow through her and into her palms - the palms that were resting on Sjara’s soft hip. The huntress would feel warmth flow through her, and the pain would be eased. She would feel energy circling through her system with a calming effect - like how a soft ocean breeze feels on an excruciatingly hot day, or how it feels to get inside and by a fireplace after a day out in the cold. It felt good. 

The rest of the party were on the attack - finishing off the Draugr. “We’re winning…” she said softly to Sjara as she let her cool blue eyes dart over to the action, she focussed on Hector, and then the Khajit. Skall was making a ruckus, as he continued to stumble drunkenly around this strange arena, his axe peppered with torn shreds of undead flesh. 

The action was not yet subsiding. They were winning, but the race was far from finished. She watched as the large Draugr heaved around, swinging it’s skeletal frame around and taking charge. She also spotted that some of the smaller creatures were trying to take a swing at Sjara and herself while they were at the back. Not on her watch, she wasn’t going to get any of their disgusting slime anywhere near her, with her left hand on Sjara’s wound, she waved around her right - conjuring forth an ethereal wolf - her Familiar. It stood in front of its Mistress and Sjara, ready to take down any rogue undead which dare step into it’s space. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it would sure be long enough to get Sjara back on her feet - and hopefully it would buy them enough time for the rest of the party to clear the foes.