Murtagh moved swiftly and silently through the dense brush. Thorns scratched at his face and hands but he didn't have time to worry about them. The dark clothing he wore blended in with the deep brown tree trunks and the green leaves around him, and for that he was grateful. He had lost his attackers long ago, but ever careful, he wasn't taking any chances. He would soon have to stop and dress his wounds, but he wanted to be sure he was safe before stopping. He ran for another three miles before coming to a halt in a small clearing. Throwing down his pack, he quickly checked for danger.
A small brook bubbled at the northern edge and several fallen trees, along with other forest brush and debris made for good cover. As he looked down at his side, he saw the thickened blood beginning to dry on his clothes. Judging from the pain, he was more severely hurt than he had first thought. A twig cracked behind him and he swerved around to face whatever was out there. As he made to draw his sword, his vision began to cloud. 'Not now, I just need a little longer!' he thought. His thoughts were useless, and as he slipped into darkness, his brain registered hushed voices talking all around him.
There was a fire going. Something smelled foul. He immediately registered these things out if habit. He opened one eye, peeking out at his surroundings. Finding no one around, Murtagh slowly rose. The source of the stench was a thick, goopy muck that to his dismay was plastered allover his chest.
"Great" he muttered.
There was a small fire going, and something simmered in a pot hanging over it. Further inspection proved it to be the source of the muck. Circling the campsite, Murtagh's eyes rested on a brown saddlebag. Although it was scratched and marred, the quality of the leather was undeniable. Curiosity got the better of him and he walked over to examine it. just as his hands touched the bag, the cold bite of steel halted him.
"Curiosity killed the cat. You don't look like a cat, but your about to be killed just the same." A slightly feminine voice from behind him said, full of morbid humor. Murtagh slowly turned and gazed upon a heavily cloaked figure. His first thought was Ra'zac, but this was taller and slimmer then any Ra'zac could ever be. Then he thought it might be a shade, and that was ten times worst. The threat rankled him though. He had been through a lot lately and was in no mood to dally about exchanging threats with a shade. Whirling around, he knocked the weapon out of his attacker's hand. The sudden movement caused sharp pain that was nearly overwhelming. His opponent took full advantage of his weakness. A swift punch knocked him to the ground, where Murtagh lay, seemingly unconscious. As the shade bent to examine him, he kicked its legs out from under it. Rolling so that he sat atop, Murtagh whipped a small dagger to its, neck. When he pushed back the hood of the dark cloak, he gasped in surprise. It was not a shade, but a girl. Long black hair, startlingly green eyes, and a face that no shade could posses confirmed this.
"Who are you?" he asked sternly.
"I could ask you the same, considering you were snooping through my belongings."
"Well, considering that I was unconscious in your camp, and I had some kind of foul muck all over me that was not there before!" he spat back at her. A shocked look spread over her face, but was quickly replaced with anger.
"That muck saved your life, thank you very much!"
With a athletic flip, she turned the tables again, and he was underneath her. She grabbed the dagger and tossed it aside before letting him up. Stomping over to the pot, she scooped a large spoonful out.
"Chistory, Heart-Root, Malibly, and Thisrem. Life saving herbs, and without them you would have been dead hours ago."
For some reason, Murtagh suddenly felt guilty, something he was not used to feeling.