09-05-2011, 11:06 PM
As he watched the knife sail past the man, a sense of dread over took him and he knew he was going to be struck down. But it never came. Instead, he heard the man telling him to leave, which was what he had intended to do anyways. He more than happy to obey the man and leave his pack's lands, although he wasn't sure how quick he could be about it. Rolling over wordlessly, he picked up his staff and then used it to help himself to his feet. His back was bleeding badly, his shoulder only slightly less. He knew he had to get it cleaned somehow, otherwise it would get infected. He let his mind wander over what he had in his pack for healing as he hobbled toward the border. He stopped when he saw his dagger, and stooped to pick it up. When he stood back up, he spoke without turning around. "I realize that....your willingness to help me in any way right now.....is probably lower than zero, but I have nothing to clean my wounds with in my pack and I know of no healers that can help me. I will die of infection if I can't get help from someone, and the likeliness of running into someone who can heal, well...I probably have a better chance of finding gold in a tree trunk." He glanced back, obviously in a great amount of pain; the sword had cut deep into his back. "Although if you wish to damn me to a slow, painful death...I can't say I could blame you." He stood a few feet from the pack border, looking over his shoulder at the man, awaiting his answer.