He listened as he drew the line in the dirt, then took a step back. His leg shifted, stiffly repositioning as his bare heel bore onto a stone. Line finished, he straightened, shuffled, to make another.

When she asked about his wellbeing, he still didn't look up. "No." He answered simply when asked if it had been easy. Truthfully, he remembered little beyond the bloodlust. The unchecked hatred that had fueled his every move, and the pure desire to rip her to pieces. 
And he hated himself for it. 

"Now what?" Ruli asked as he straightened and shuffled stiffly along. He had no magical ability to heal himself, and beyond the administrations to his sleep-heavy body by the councilman's servants, he hadn't bothered with his injuries. "Does Amria call?"