Really, she ought to stop being surprised by Jeron’s suspicion. She had traveled with a tiefling after all, similarly loathed by the world at large, and she had seen the worst of how people could treat the planetouched. But where Jeron spat acid (thankfully not literally), Ghyvain had simply laughed and shrugged her shoulders. Chamera tried to be patient, tried not to let her companion’s ire get beneath her skin, but it took tremendous will. He was not Ghyvain; it was unfair to judge him by her absent friend.
Uncertain how to press the issue, Chamera hesitated. He was undoubtedly wounded. He’d been in the hands of Zhents, and they never could resist the opportunity to inflict pain. Her fingers ached at the thought, deep in her bones, and she released a sharp breath.
Luckily, Jeron seemed to come to his senses, even as his concession sounded no less vicious. Arching a dark brow, Chamera shifted her weight, arms folding beneath her chest. It was evident that he was… not exactly good with people. Not everyone could be silver tongue and clever words, she knew, but it was never pleasant to be at the receiving end of vicious barbs.
Her irritation was irrelevant; Jeron had agreed and he was digging through his bag. Approaching with silent footfalls, Chamera lowered herself to her knees behind the prickly half-elf. A muscle in her jaw twitched at the thick leaves, dropped haphazardly in the dirt. Grateful that they were not face to face, her lip curled in disgust. Even after all these years, she disliked the filth of the road. There was nothing better than cities, where hot baths and soft beds were only gold and coppers away.
Gingerly lifting a pair of leaves from the soil and cleaning them on her tunic (as best she could, at least), Chamera gathered her nerve. Placing the leaves between her teeth, she bit down. Bitterness and something like rotting flesh filled her mouth. Coughing, Chamera tried to resist the urge to spit everything on the ground. Making a sound of disgust, she placed a hand to her lips. She didn’t know how valuable these were, but—
“Gods that is vile,” she hissed, face scrunched in displeasure. Jeron’s instruction to hurry up did not much endear the dark skinned elf to her favor—but before she could strike back, her golden eyes had found his back.
Oh. Oh. She had thought herself heavily scarred, but this… there were almost more white lines than dark skin, and her stomach dropped. The freshest lines were angry red and oozing, across spine and shoulders and down to the small of his back. They were expertly placed for the most return of pain, and Chamera forced herself to chew. Several moments of silence passed before she spat the bitter pulp into her off hand. The taste lingered, but Chamera loaded her fingertips with the mess of plant matter.
“I’m going to touch you now,” she informed him, her voice softer than usual. From the way he’d jumped at the mere mention of help, Chamera suspected that touching him suddenly would end poorly for her. Gingerly, she began to smear the goop across a line bisecting his shoulder blades.
How had he run for so long? Suddenly, Chamera felt rather guilty, having pushed them so far when her companion had been this wounded. Carrying Pan across both their shoulders could not have helped matters. She worked methodically, but it was slow going, forced to lift several more leaves from earth and suffer the vile taste throughout the process. She prayed to her Lady as she went, hoping perhaps that her favor might ease pain, but she was unsure if her Lady answered. She had already asked so much. At the nearest shrine, she swore, she’d upend a whole bag of gold into their coffers and do whatever work they needed. They just needed enough luck to get there alive.
It took much longer than she’d hoped it would. From the way her arm had stung, a light wound, she couldn’t imagine how keenly his wounds stung. Chamera sat back on her heels, studying the wounds. It looked like she had got them all…
“I have bandages—if that will help,” she offered hesitantly, uncertain if he would snap again. Better to be gentle, to keep tempers at bay as best she could. They needed to work together to survive, until they could get out of Zhentarim territory.
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