[center][h3][b][color=00FF00]J'eon the Blacksmith[/color][/b][/h3][/center]
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"It.. is not," the Glen blacksmith replied softly, lying on his side in the cart, feeling the chest on its back. If it breathed shallowly, the broken ribs in its upper torso didn't shift with sharp jagged pain, while the broken ribs in his lower half were only a dull ache, now that the cart was no longer finding every pebble on the bloody road.

He had been staring at Shirik, keeping his mind off of the pain by wondering just what sort of being the tree was that it could call up the flame in its own body and yet not be consumed by it. But now it stared at the doctor and her piercings along her upper beak. Didn't that make eating difficult?

"Thank... you," J'eon replied, nodding his head with the least possible movement, "for coming... like this."

His hope was that they didn't leave a trail for whatever creature would be looking for the one they killed.