Faolan absently nodded upon hearing Lucien's words. It took him a moment to full process them, but when he did, he made the move to stand. Still clutching the canteen, he leaned forward and steadied himself with his free hand before pushing himself to his feet. He was a little wobbly for a moment, and only vaguely aware of Lucien right in front of him. He supposed this is what shell shock might be like, or as close as he would get to it.

He made to walk, and slowly his body warmed and became accustomed to movement again. He followed Lucien, watching his head bob from side to side with each step. Occasionally, he would glance down at Lucien's torn clothing and feel a pang of guilt and anger, but it would pass quickly. The lad was limping, but he was walking at least, Faolan was sure it was merely a flesh wound. If Lucien had been any slower, or a normal human for that matter...Faolan didn't want to think about that.

Eventually, they reached the lake Lucien had mentioned. Absently, as if he was sleepwalking, Faolan dropped the canteen on the ground and began to undress again before he waded into the ice cold water. He was glad for it, it sharpened his sense and dulled the ache in his muscles. He splashed the water on his face and scrubbed his skin until it was raw and red, but clean. He would not leave the water with a speck of Lucien's blood anywhere on his body, he couldn't stand the sight of it.