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Tribute and Dowry

He took warmly of her kisses, giving the same to her when their lips met. “We say to the young,” began Oriza as she talked about damage from the bear, and then stretched her protesting muscles. Continuing in his native Avar tongue, <The ride be good, but the body will protest until one adjusts to the saddle>. He let a smile cross his face, letting her at least hear more of his native language. “That is, the young are usually sore from the saddle after they really ride with the clans for the first time. Learning to ride and riding for a day are two different things they say.”

Then as she found her clothes and began to put them on, he said the words in his native language to match each item as she touched it, grabbed it and/or put it on. <Britches>, <Vest>, <Laces>, he even took his hand to her clothes and pointed out the parts, hand to <Leather> tracing a line of her body, or pulling her closer while his thumb rubbed over the <Fur>.

He too joined her in dressing and by the time they were both clothed, others of his clan had already arrived as if knowing they would be decent, so that preparations could be made for the grand pavilion to be stored away until they reached a camp site closer to their homelands. As she finished dressing, snuggled and kissed him, he replied to hear, “A good match … your beauty would bring out the best in anything you wear Brae.” Then he began to rise, pulling her with him and kissing her fiercely while his hands ran along that leather and held her close to his body. “We shall be mindful of those damages today.”

The efficacy of the people had the camp nearly packed by the first time Oriza and Brae saw sunlight and the snow from yesterday on the ground. Their horses were ready and waiting for them. Even with the snow on the ground, the horses were well trained and the Avar and the Kutigar were quickly underway. As the rode, Oriza slowly began to teach her his language. At first using common words from clothing to saddle items to the terrain and weather around them. As she became familiar with words, he would move into the realm of questioning her to introduce other contexts, verbs, and the like. <What is this?> would be common at first, but it would extend to him asking for more details as she picked up on words and phrases.

True to his word, he would be mindful of her recover and for the first few nights he would lay with her, but not within her. He would snuggle and kiss to her hearts content, anything for added warmth while they were on the trail. This seemed common as quarters were more cramped than when in full camp.

As they were near the alps, moving through forests of evergreens, the snow and pine needles crisp under the hooves of the horses, he turned to her serious. Speaking Latin again that she knew all he said, “We have had reports, Clan Bakla is curious to see this new bride of the Khan.” Then he turned in his saddle to regard her, “I have caught their scent on the wind, they are near but do not yet present themselves. Do not wander far from camp.”

Later that day when they made quick camp and the two lay together for warmth and companionship, the howls of wolves were carried on the wind. Once Oriza thought she was asleep, he took himself from the furs and slipped away. He did little to gather clothes about him, the heat of his body warmer this evening.
 
"It is not riding that I am sore from, husband." She said very pointedly to him and grinned leaning back across his lap and looked at him and just bathed in the languages. She copied every word she heard and was now feeling she was getting the hang of it. She giggled watching him dress and repeated the words as he put on <britches>,<vest>, needing only a few corrections. She yelped as he pulled her up and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back running her fingers through his hair and grinned. "Good." She sighed and watched the people as they packed up.

She laughed adn nodded as he taught her the words <what is this?> then she nodded. "I think I will need to remember that one bear king as it will come in handy. She reached out and stroked the neck of her horse that snorted and shook its head. Happy to be walking and moving. She leaned back and waited. The ride was interesting to say the least. Every time she bounced up and down on her sore muscles, she winced a bit, but looked at him.

As the days progressed, she trie dto use more and more of the langauge of the Avar. She smiled as they laid together kissing and snuggling and touching. Every night felt like she was a little more at home. Warriors were more open with their jokes. Granted mostly at her, but soon she knew enough to poke playfully back.

In the days when they were nearing the alps, she was writing in her journal with a piece of coal that she got form the cool camp fire drawing the alps and the trees around. She was humming a bit, when Ozira turned to her. She looked up and smiled and canted her head. <How can I move far from camp, when I love you?> She smiled saying brokenly. She was trying to read through one of the trashy scrolls that one of the female warriors had given her. She closed the journal and stuck it back into her saddle bag.

Brae was pressed against him after their dinner and had fallen instantly to sleep. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him and her head on his chest. He slept nearest to the door of the tent, because Brae loved to press her head over his chest listening to his strong heart. Her hand resting on his chest as she continued to sleep. Her long blonde hair curled around her shoulder as she continued to sleep. Her legs tangled within his. She moaned feeling him pull away and sit up. She reached out an arm and opened one sleepy eye. <Are you ok?> She mumbled looking at him. She looked and felt so small amongst his furs laying in the depression in the bed that his body had made.
 
<I am fine,> responded Oriza as she stirred, then stepping nearly naked out into the wintery night. The steam from his body visibly rising in the moonlight that filtered in through the flap, until he let it fall behind him. His bare feet crunched the ice chilled snow as he walked away from the tent then, slowly at first, as if trying to locate something. Before he was out of earshot, his feet picked up their pace until it became a run.

As soon as he was on the move, the distant howls trailed off and silence engulfed the night. That silence grew, making time seem to pass curiously slow perhaps. Slow, or quickly even, there was no way to mark the time except by passage of the moon and yet, it seemed to pass little in that silence. Up until the silence was shattered by the roar of a great bear, this roar was met by the chatter of wolves and growls to match. Distance was impossible to gauge in the night, when sound seemed to carry father, hearing sharper in general.

There was some back and forth between roar and growl, this continued until the cry of a wolf in pain pierced that symphony of animal sounds. The wolves sounded more fierce in their cries, as a battle seemed to rage in the dark pine forests. Eventually the wolves sounded retreat and the bear stopped roaring his triumph to them.

Once again there was silence, and time passed. Then near the tent, a low rumble of a lupine growl cut through as if only the tent itself separated the animal from whoever was inside. Affirming that it was close, the snout of a wolf opened the tent. And slowly the large head came through, seeking, searching and sniffing. It belied a much deeper intelligence than the average wolf. Again the moonlight streamed through that flap as it turned its head this way and that, its canine eyes adjusting to the light until they fell on where ever Brae found herself, it growled again.

That growl was broken by the roar and charge of a great bear once more, but before the wolf could react, it was yanked out to the sound of bones snapping. A loud thud was perhaps the sound of the body being thrown about. Not left for dead, the wolf cried in pain and slowly it began to slip away. As if the night were not to end, the next intruder was the bear itself, far larger than the average bear, it poked its head within the tent, it searching too. Its growls now a curious sound, as if the bear too were smart and searching for something within the tent.
 
She frowned watching steam visibly rise off of him. She frowned and then rolled over and fell asleep. She curled up and sighed falling deeper into a sleep. But the roar of the bear made her lunge awake. Her eyes darting around. Frowning and thinking of a bear devouring her Bear king, she ran to her boots and pulled them on and pulled on her thick fur covered robe and took off running into the night. She was shivering hard in no time at all.

She frowned hearing the fight. Oh no, they were warring over who got the bigger half of her loves body. She took off running harder and stopped hearing the bear roar. Brae frowned and gripped her hood closer and pulled her robe tighter aorund her and ran full tilt searching quietly for Ozira. Looking quietly for footprints, but the snow had begun to fall violently around her. Finally, too cold to continue, she moved back to her tent shivering and sat on the bed gripping her robe tighter and shivered her teeth chattering. Then she heard the growl and fear built up in her throat. Reaching into her robe, she wrapped her fingers tightly around the hilt of a dagger. The wolf and her just sat looking at each other, for what felt like an eternity.

She bit her lip so hard it began to bleed as she heard the bear and the snapping of bones. She gripped her head and was shivering violently in the furs. Why had her love left her here. Tears of abandon rolled down her face as she shivered and looked up seeing the bear. She was tired of being the damsel, she gripped the dagger and stood up and snarled. <I AM AVAR, MY NAME IS BRAE, YOU KILLED MY MATE!> She howled and threw herself on the bear gripping his throat and just because she was so possessed she bit hard into the bears ear.
 
The bear seemed at an impasse, even as Brae threw herself savagely at its form, gripping at its throat and biting into its ear. Her blood from where she bit her own lip mingling with the warmth of the bears blood. There was an unnatural heat to the bear’s body. Animals indeed where warm, yet this was unnatural, steam rising sharply into the night’s air. The impasse from the bear came in the form of it not really fighting back. As she struggled against its massive body, it simply growled curiously, as if in response to the words she said in the native language of the Avar. It even shook its head, as if responding to who killed her mate.

If her dagger came into play, the bear did little to stop it, only protecting its throat if need be by raising a paw absently to meet her wrist. It entered into wrestling, but it seemed subdued, it doing its best to keep its claws from hurting her flesh as if she were a delicate thing. It was hard to control those claws and at worst, they may have torn into some of her clothes but managed not to tear at her skin. All the while as they struggled, it shook its head and tried to roll so that she would land underneath its body.

Failing getting her to the ground, the bear would, secondarily to this, attempt to roll itself onto its back. Both scenarios that it was attempting was so that it could meet her eye to eye. As if knowing she were in a savage mood, its mannerism was slow and easy, its growls more a soft cry as the guttural sound purred into the night. Curiously enough, she may even notice that no Avars or Kutigars were coming to the sounds. There was a stirring after the battle between bear and wolves in which the men of the camp moved out into the night air. The voices shouted to beware of Clan Bakla and the wolves.

Should the bears eyes ever meet with hers, she might find it odd in that moment that they were olive-hazel in color, that light greenish brown much like Oriza’s eyes and very much unlike those of a bear which tended to be all dark brown to black with no whites at all. These olive-hazel eyes did nearly fill out the openings, but there were traces of white near the edges. Most likely, the bear was bleeding from where ever her dagger had pierced its hide, but the wounds didn’t seem deep or threatening to the bear. If it founds her eyes, a sympathetic growl would follow.
 
She snarled. The bear was toying with ehr she knew it. But his body was too hot and soon she found herself sweating strugling trying to find a clean kill for the bear. She never foudn one though. Howling, she felt the bear swat her wrist tossing the dagger deep into the snow. She continued to wrestle with it, but he was pulling her further and further from the dagger. Still she held on biting him every now in then with a snarl.

Her robe was soon torn away, and all that was left was her naked skin. She shivered but gripped on. Adrenaline was a mighty powerful thing. She gaspped as she was rolled under him and shut her eyes screaming as the heavy weight of the bear stunned her. The cold biting into her back. She shivered wondering why no one was coming to help her. She shivered harder and looked up at the bear.

Those eyes, so much like her lover now dead in the snow. She couldn't defend him. Raising her hands to her eyes she began to sob and shut her eyes. She began to shiver harder. She gasped trying to breath. But the shivering soon ceased as her body dropped to the same temperature of the cold around her. She continued to sob for the memory of her lover.
 
The bear moved with a surprising grace when Brae was given to the cold and fate. With its large maw, it pushed at her, using a paw to help, as if to push her limp body to the furs of the bed itself. Even as she sobbed near silently, when at the bed, the paw gently wrapped around her, lifting her to the bed. The paws were not delicate enough to lift furs from the mattress over her as it laid her down the best it could. Instead, with that same grace and finesse, it lowered its body to her. Unlike the weight it used to try and subdue her earlier, this was well controlled that it became like a fur of the bed.

It did not move to hurt her but rather, it nuzzled at her check until its large tongue came, batting at her tear stained cheeks. As if to wipe them away, to take her hurt onto itself. The tongue, like the rest of its body, was warm and not so much wet, but it had a comfort to it that was oddly curious. As if that were not strange enough, eventually one of the trusted warriors of Oriza himself came to the flap, lifting it enough to look inside and then reporting in Avar. <No further signs of Clan Bakla, a clan moot has been called that this issue may be resolved> Then he was gone. Either he did not see the bear or he did not care. Somewhere it seemed he spoke to the bear itself.

Even despite the grappling of the woman, the bites, the biting dagger now lost somewhere in the tent or the snow nearby, the bear was gentle with her, as if trying to both warm her and appease her. As its tongue wiped at the tears, it nuzzled her head into the crook of its large neck and let out a soft lonely growl as if feeling the pain of her loss, or sharing in her grief in the moment, or perhaps, sorry for something. It wasn’t apologizing for having killed Oriza, but perhaps something else altogether. After the report by one of Oriza’s trusted, the sounds outside the tent seemed to turn towards festive, celebrating some unknown victory. No one made mention of finding Oriza’s body it would seem.
 
Brae shivered even as the bear moved her and put her back into bed. She shivered adn curled up on teh bed turning her back from him. She began to sob quietly shutting her eyes. She covered her face. She shifted feeling the soft fur of his underbelly but it didn't bring her any relief. She would never feel relief again. Not with Orizas body cold and lost in the forest.

She felt his tongue agianst her face and hated it. She choked on the sobs and then looked at the man. She didn't know the word for death yet. But wanted to shout at him that Oriza was not in here. Oriza was dead and in teh stomach of a bear that was somewhere. Even possibly in the tent. She frowned and then gasped inhaling his fur and then she heard the festivities.

Getting up, she was angry. She pushed aside the bear and moved into one of Oriza's heavy cloaks and walked out. Walking to one of the warriors she frowned. <What is this? Oriza is gone!> Not using the word gone for the food was gone, but gone like a misplaced.
 
As she pushed at the bear, finding strength again, it simply sat on its haunch, looked up at the top of the tent and made a woofing sound (rapid breathing accompanied by a low guttural rumbling). But it did little as she put on a heavy cloak and walked out. Outside, the moon shone down through the clouds, making the snow glisten a brilliant blue, now trod by many feet as the air about the camp was indeed festive. The warrior she approached looked at her quizzical, perhaps pondering why she was out in the cold, maybe even noting that while she had a cloak, her legs and feet were bare underneath. His brow quirked more oddly when she asked what this was and said Oriza was gone.

<We celebrate,> he began after regaining his thoughts, <Oriza was challenged by Ridan and returned victorious.> Blinking another moment in curiosity, the warrior adds, <He was seen returning to his tent.> Then leaning upon his weapon, presumably a spear or polearm of some barbaric design, with inlaid braid work enamel, he tilts his head a little. <Are you saying the Bear did not return to your tent?>
 
She looked back at the bear and its woofing sound. She swallowed and shivered making an odd running light foot run across the snow. It bit her feet, but encouraged her to be strong. She swallowed and then listened. Canting her head, Brae shook her head. <Returned? Where?> Instantly her face lit up and she looked around and then turned back and frowned seeing only the silouhette of the bear. <No, only a bear.> She frowned and then looked back. Then it all fell into place. Instantly the color drained from her face.

Was she married to a bear. She rocked back and forth and swallowed hard. <The king is a bear?> She asked weakly. She frowned and looked around at the warriors looking at her as if she was growing another head. Seeing a woman warrior who was helping her alot in her lessons when Oriza couldn't nod her head, she knew in that instant, that bear was her mate. Rolling her eyes, she began to rock back and forth on her feet. The world was spinning too fast. In that instant, she felt the snow rising up to greet her and she passed out.
 
With help, perhaps between warrior and Bear alike, she would be returned to the bed of furs. Whatever time would pass, it would, perhaps luckily, be enough time for the adrenaline to run through Oriza’s veins. While Brae was allowed to sleep it out comfortably, Oriza, first in bear form, then with a return to his human form, would stand vigilante over her. He would do little to cover himself up against the cold, his body naturally fighting it off rather easily.

Likewise, he did not allow anyone to bother over his minor wounds and injuries. Some sustained from the wolves but some, perhaps, from Brae’s self-defense against intrusion from who she thought was the enemy. At the least, his ear displaying teeth marks as if it were a trophy. Whether she slept only a few hours, or many into the morning light, Oriza kept his post, watching her sleep and making sure no one bothered him and, subsequently, Brae.

There was one minor intrusion, by his most trusted warrior, the grizzled veteran from the day he met his wife. He returned when he knew Oriza would be of full human senses to remind him of the clan moot to determine the consequences of Clan Bakla’s intrusion and challenge of the Khan. As time would be pressing because of word sent ahead to the homelands about this meeting of clans, Oriza felt it best they take a day’s rest where they were to allow Brae to recover, and to allow the Avar and Kutrigar’s with him rest as well following the attack earlier.

The rest of his time waiting for her to awake, was spent in silent vigil.
 
Brae groaned when the warrior came in. She shivered noticing again that he was not in bed beside her. She gasped leaping up as the warrior left and her eyes darted around and then to Oriza. Then came the snarl. She snarled and stood up and shoved him rather hard and looked betrayed.

"You! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!" She was shaking in rage and then balled her fists to her head and shut her eyes shivering hard. She was naked because the bear somehow along with the warrior helped take off her cloak. She sat on the bed and began to cry covering her face. She shook her head. She had so many thoughts running through her head, most of which was betrayal.

"I thought they had killed you." She said weakly feeling so exhausted mentally. She shivered harder and shook her head and tried to get composure trying to plot her next move.
 
As she sits up in bed, balling her fists and as tears come to her face again, Oriza moved closer, bending to almost a kneeling position and lifting his great hand to her cheek. “I have said I am the Great Bear and I am of the Bozmak. To the Franks this is fantastically legend, but there is much of the world the Franks do not know Brae.”

Leaning to put his forehead to hers, if she would allow him, he continues, “This is not to make it better, just to state what is true. I could not return to my form until Iktidar had left my body. Once the animal comes out, I cannot send him away.” It is as close to an apology as he might come, giving this explanation of what happens when he transforms.

“Be mad at me, but let me warm your body Brae,” he said, pulling her towards him as she sat on the bed and he kneeled beside her.
 
She jerked away and slapped his hand away and shook her head and continued to cry. She couldn't bear this much longer. She listened to him and as he tried to pull her to him, she shoved away and stood up and began to dress angrily. Tears of anger rolled down her face and she stepped out once clothed. She took what she could carry and moved to her horse. Brae was so furious she was shaking. She saddled her horse in record time and leapt onto her horse and spurred it off in the distance, she was not sure where she was going, but away.

The warriors watched her go. One of Ozira's good friends, Mable, turned on her heel after sending a scout to watch after her. She turned and walked back to the tent and looked at him and frowned. "Ozira." She fisted a hand over her heart and bowed a bit. "Your mate has just left the camp."
 
“I will make chase,” said Oriza, not moving much while Brae dressed quickly, grabbed items and took to her horse in record time. “She needs some time to think, but she is my mate.” He wasn’t pausing to get dressed, as if he were planning to chase as the Bear; perhaps having better senses for tracking in case the scout lost her. Looking at Mable as she stood there, hand over heart, he asked, “Clan Bakla was given chase and they retreated, how many were there and do we know how many remain of the Bozmak. If they catch scent of her on the wind, they will return quickly to capture her as a prize.”

Even as Mable give the numbers, as much as they knew following the night attack, Oriza was standing and stretching his large frame. The one item that remained, his bear claw medallion, was taken in his hand and he gave soft wards in prayer to Perun. Closing his eyes, knowing the change would be soon upon him. Even Mable averted her gaze for this, knowing what was coming and perhaps not enjoying the change. Within moments, the large bear had returned.

Giving a last look to the woman warrior, perhaps in understanding, he took to the snow covered ground again, moving towards the horses and sniffing at the cold winter air as if attempting to pick up the scent of horse and rider. In part to make sure he followed the correct horse tracks away from the camp. While he might not of been as fast as the horse if the horse ran at top speeds, the Bear would have better endurance, being able to catch up over distance and time. Now he only rushed against the wolves of Bakla, he did not want them to find her first now that she left the safety of the camp.
 
"You better not." She turned to Oriza. "Cause any wild animal I come across, I will kill." She turned and left in a cloud of hate. She now raced against the hills her eyes running with warm toes.

Mable smiled and nodded and then put her hands on her hips and canted her head. She gave the full report of the men and then nodded. "She is a beautiful prize indeed, Ozira." She said and then looked down and away out of respect. Watching someone shift, was sort of like watching another person go to the restroom. It was natural, but it was common curtesy. She looked at the bear and nodded and pulled back the flap of his tent and watched him go.

Brae sighed. Her horse was panting. With a soft groan, she got off the horse and began to lead it. She had brought along a bow and arrow and a sword. Not one of the swords that the large warriors carried, but one that younger women wielded. She continued to walk but a soft howl came from the woods. Brae looked at the woods her heart racing. A beautiful white wolf appeared from the trees and growled a large grin spreading across its lips. Brae growled. "Do not mess with me because I will send you to hell." She hissed and bared her teeth at the wolf. The wolf snorted and in a blink of an eye Brae had her bow ready and her arrow notched. The wolf snorted as if laughing and lunged at her. Letting the arrow fly, the arrow struck home. She gasped as she was thrown back from the weight of teh dead wolf. The horse took off running abandoning Brae.

She snarled kicking the wolf off to see a large hoarde of wolves appeared. She swallowed and fought valiantly, but was soon overpowered. Brae took off running hard. Blood rolling from her hip down her leg. She snarled and continued to fight with her sword slashing at the wolves howling her rage.
 
If she was determined to attack any animal, Oriza would stay back as much as he could. He would follow her and keep her safe, but let her travel where she may. The horse racing into the hills was difficult, he had to rely on his senses to follow simply because it would not take long for the horse to outpace him, even a bear of his size and abilities.

Still, trailing through the wintery world, the cool air touching at his abnormally warm skin, it awakened the Bear more in Oriza. Fighting off the wolves was necessity, but this was being free, to do as the Bear pleased. Presently it was pleased to trail Brae and protect her if needed. There was a swelling of pride within him at that thought. He certainly wanted her to express herself freely and choosing to leave or run after the recent events was such a freedom, but he felt more protective of her out here. No one else would take that freedom from her, even if she didn’t want him near at hand, to offer that protection that she most likely did not want.

At a distance, he heard the soft howl, his ears keen to the sounds of the wintery world, picking up the soft howl though it was up and over the next hill. He had recently noticed she had taken to walking alongside her horse and was making up some distance already, but when the howl came, he began to spring ahead. It was none to late perhaps, the Bakla had reformed their pack and were indeed hunting as well. As much as she seemed to be holding her own, he knew the pack could overwhelm.

She asked him to stay away, but he lept out of the trees at the rear and roared a mighty challenge to the wolves. Raking them with large claws, biting at others. A nuisance he was, he was intent on drawing attention from Brae as best he could, wading into the wolves as he advanced. He would normally be more cautious in such a fight, but at the heart of it was his Brae, he would not let them harm her.
 
She fought valiantly. But soon her blood loss was too great, she rocked back and forth. She swallowed seeing the bear and tears rolled down her face. The blood making the snow around her turn red. Falling to her knees, the wolves would have overpowered her, but their focus was now on Oriza. She panted hard and collapsed into the snow. The scout had lost her over the last two hills. She knew how to walk that made it hard for even an experienced tracker to follow. He soon came forward, seeing the battle.

The scout growled and began to make short work of the wolves working with a bow and arrow. Soon the wolves pulled back and retreated making a howl of retreat. Brae was on her back panting in pain holding her stomach where they had landed a good bite. She shivered hard looking up at the cold grey sky. Bit by bit, her breath was less seen. Not only was she slowly dying, but her body was freezing. Tears rolled down her face as she began to sob softly. So this was how she was to die?
 
Oriza may have managed but was in part thankful for the scout Mable had sent earlier. Between the two, the managed to survive the second attack of the wolves. Once the retreated, Oriza could not help another howl of victory, yelled into the winds at the wolves. Then he pressed on towards Brae, where she lay dying in the snow. Turning to the scout who came closer to the camp, he growled again, not threatening, perhaps pleading. Perhaps imploring that help should be brought, or that the scout should help. His adrenaline was pumping to fast to try and control the Bear, in fact they needed the bear.

His body came to Brae then, giving her all the warmth he could and again, she was wounded, he would have to take care of them. His large tongue came to clean the wounds as best he could. He would treat them as best he could as Bozmak, or a shifter. Some might take longer to heal, but he would do what he can all the while giving his body heat to her. With a free paw, he was beginning to push snow away, to clear an area for the two of them. If the scout knew how to help, the would hopefully make a fire as well. Oriza would set his great tongue to every visible wound and clean the blood until he saw no more than use his great body to give all the heat he could and more to Brae.
 
Brae panted looking up. The scout moved forward and knelt beside her and his hands moved over her face and frowned. His fingers found her vein and then ripped open her vest and then looked over the bites and the marks. He growled and then opened his satchel and moved some herbs into his mouth and began to chew. He started a fire and began to build it large. The only way to seal those wounds would be to burn them shut. Brae panted and pushed at the bear. <Go away> She hissed and began to cough blood rolling from her mouth. The scout moved forward and grabbed a hot stick. Looking at the wounds he began to place the red hot wood to her wounds.

Arching off the ground she howled her pain tears rolling down her face. She shivered hard panting but the scout kept sealing the wounds shut. But Brae panted hard as her world started to go black. The scout grabbed the paste he had made in his lips and rubbed over the small wounds and frowned. Pulling her vest closed, he wrapped her up in the robe and extinguished the fire. Walking back to his horse, he held the now unconscious Brae and set off at a steady pace to camp.
 
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