Timoster had kept to himself so far. He didn't feel like talking at that moment as he was excessively tired. The last week was a nightmare for him. The Stormcloaks forced him to relocate to his old house in Winterhold in which he stayed only for a couple of days before traveling to Ivarstead. 

"You can keep watch if you want, Maemion. I could use some sleep right now. And don't worry about the food I brought enough for the whole group!"

He pointed to a large, leather bag, which was filled with items. His statement wasn't very far from the truth. Timoster had enough food and potions to sustain the entire group for the next day or two and was eager to share them with others. Before leaving Winterhold, he spent all of his recent earnings for food, potions and a brand new sword to replace the old one. He was determined to find and fight dragons, even if that meant to take the initiative and support his group to the fullest. The sword wasn't enchanted yet and he wasn't used to it but that shouldn't be a problem. He was the healer, after all.