Instead of laughing Saar coughed, the health potion only healing completely the minor wounds and then improving the deeper ones. The amusement lingered in his mind as his mouth corners were elevated.
After a moment or two the woman, who densely looked away from him and back, suggested they move into the camp and near its lighted campfire. The wounded Orc was not sure about moving just yet, but getting to sit near a fireplace instead of laying on cold stone was tempting enough.

The transition didn't go easily nor comfortably, the Orsimer's muscles trembling and almost giving out constantly and he quickly got exhausted. It surprised and terrified at the same time what state he was in. The woman helped the Orsimer by walking beside him, having his left arm over her shoulders and so supported his advancing. The woman wasn't short, but not remarkably tall compared to Saar so he had to bent in somewhat awkward way. To the stranger's credit, she didn't stagger even a little under the mer's weight. And despite of his present state he was not a frail Orc.
The shock of his state also inspired anger to spike up, though Saar had no energy nor choice to act by it. It was a good thing as, was the woman a mercenary or not, she was his only help.

The stranger aided the Orsimer into the camp, near campfire were soft warmness wrapped around Saar's hurting body.
He still didn't have full control of himself and so it was difficult to sit upright, or even sit, so the woman eased him into laying position.
Also he really had enough of sitting for the time.
The stony ground was also hard here but warm. And the mer was used to the hardness, as a bandit you usually couldn't afford to a bed with good stuffing. The dark cloak that the archer had pulled on Saar was small, but enough to cover his middle and lower body, giving some sense of covering.

After the woman made sure he was laying as comfortably as could, she started to treat him. Going through his wounds, halting at his lower section, then after the examination put down her weapons and backpack.
Seeing the two handed sword made Saar frown and look again at the woman, as now they were in the light.
She was average by body, as much as Saar could tell through the heavy armor. She sat next to him, cross legged, and started to pull out potions, rags and a skin flagon as also bandages.
"Sorry, this might hurt", she said while moisturizing a rag with water from the flagon.
The big Orsimer was not happy to be treated like this. There was nothing wrong with a woman touching him, but being this weak and without ability to treat himself, showing great weakness, was humiliating.
Jaw tightening and frown settling deeper to his grey, bearded face he tried to ignore the sting from wounds and the gentle, very light touches the stranger did while cleaning his wounds. Keeping in the groans and winces Saar concentrated to his... Savior's face, as she had pulled down the cloth and the fire lighted them under the animal hide.
Saar was a bit surprised how young the other one looked.
She had the face of the Nords, but not as long and thin, but still pretty the common looking one with pale skin and soft cheekbones. There was uneven claw marks on the left side, from forehead to the edge of her wide chin. Curly dark strands fell from under the wolf hide over her eyes, she ignoring them as she acted fast and carefully with his front.
The eyes were light grey and blue, like a snowstorm, but there was no coldness in them, no sign of the killer nor mercenary who had come after his head and killed the Forsworns effectively.
Instead, as she was done, she looked at him with open gaze, nervous and gentle at the same time. She lightly scratched the corner of her mouth with one finger.

"Do you have wounds at your back too?" she asked.
Well, after the ambush he had been roped against the tree trunk so most of the assaults had done to his front. There was really nothing at his backside, only splinters that he had gotten used to.
So Saar shook his head, feeling again the irritation of being treated. He was an Orsimer warrior, not some elderly nor child. The woman nodded, putting away the rag and then took a small pouch that contained crushed, dried herbs. She started to take the content and rub it into his open wounds.
This time Saar couldn't hold in and barked angrily as the stuff surprisingly stung like hot needles.
"Hey!"
"Sorry."
The stranger clearly tried to be more gentle, more than she already was, but the stuff still burned, especially at his wide chest as she got it into the knife wounds that had been curved against circling tattoos. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth Saar tried to keep quiet. This wasn't as bad as the torture, he told himself.
She was trying to help and not make him suffer more, on purpose at least.

After the burning herbs, that after settling just mildly stung, she got behind him with bandages and started to lift his upper body.
Despite Saar being bigger than an average Orsimer, wide and tall, which he was proud of, the mercenary lifted his torso without a struggle, just like she had helped him into the camp. Well, wielding a two handed sword did require muscles...
She halted though as he was in the half-sitting pose, and trying to help to keep it made Saar's muscles twist and sweat gather onto his forehead.
"You said you didn't have any wounds here", the woman said with scolding tone, the first time having other than nervous nor gentle voice.
"There's not", Saar grunted back, hating to try to keep up when he just wanted to lay down. It was uncomfortably surprising how fast his body had weakened at the hands of the Forsworns. What if they had done something permanent?
Opening his right eye, the potion taking care of the swelling, Saar still couldn't see clearly with it.
...Shit.

With a sigh the woman turned him around like nothing, onto his stomach, and started to go through his back.
"Enough", the Orsimer growled, getting really frustrated with how she just handled him and that he had probably indelible problem in his right eye.
What if- What if his body had other permanent issues? What if he could not walk or held anything anymore? Had his body been wrecked?
When the woman didn't stop her act to find every damn splinter from his back with her cool fingers, Saar had it.
With a growl he strike his left hand to catch the other one's arm.
The situation wasn't favoring him though as the mercenary instead easily grabbed his hand and twisted it into painful angle, making him snarl harder.
"I'm helping you."
"I don't want it", Saar barked back, turning his face to other side and glared up to her. "You want my head, you go ahead. I won't be treated like some handicapped weakling by a girl."
"Just shut it", she huffed, placing his arm back down and returning to her work on him. "And I'm not a girl, I'm twenty summers old."
Smirking Saar trifled.
"But not a woman by being fucked?"
...After a moment of silent and stillness the mercenary rose and left his side. Frowning the Orc called after her.
"Oi!"
She ignored him, leaving him there uncovered on his stomach. The hard, cold ground pained his uncovered wounds, making him a bit regret his words. But it didn't take away his worry. If he really wouldn't at least get his strength back, to walk and do things by himself, he was good as dead. He could try to escape from this rookie of mercenary later on, but if he couldn't even grab onto her...
Trying to keep himself calm, keep away the scary thought of incapability, Saar tried to listen and see the woman's doings.
She was dragging bodies into one pile near the cliff, checking them for loot, going through the tents and bringing all the worthy and useful stuff near the fire.
Ignoring the Orsimer completely.
Soon getting sick of laying on his chest Saar started to turn over, with slow and uneven progress. His arms shook and layer of sweat formed on him.
But he finally did it, crashing onto his back and gasping. Despite of the aching it was better to lay on his back.
After some time, the woman's presence bustling silently around, Saar fell into a deep sleep.

It was the cruel morning light that woke the Orc this time.

And seeing the clear sky above him, his body not stiff nor bounded, and being covered by a cloak and furs, Saar was puzzled.
Not sure was he still sleeping or had the last night or the whole prison thing really happened.
But looking around Saar was still in the empty Forsworn camp, feeling bandages around his body and being warm and covered.
His body still ached but not badly.
With cautious hope he tried to move his left hand, curling the fingers and lift the whole arm, doing it with a slight fault. He tried his every limb, everything moving a bit stiffly, the Orsimer next trying to sit up.
It was still hard but after getting to the position, he could keep at it just fine.
Relief washed over.
Although, his right eye's vision was still blurry. But it was better than being completely fucked up.
Then the Orc remembered the mercenary and looked around, not seeing any sign of her.
There was however a skin flagon and a health potion next to him, which the flagon he took and immediately emptied into his mouth, drinking it fast with great pleasure. His stomach lurched in response. The potion he was a bit hesitant to take, grimacing to its taste.
After that Saar looked around again, seeing the body pile on the cliffs edge, but still no sign of the woman.

Had the Nord left him? Why? She had said she was after his bounty and that wouldn't be given without an evidence of him being dead. She doubly wasn't that dumb, even if seemingly new to the mercenary job.

Not yet wanting to move, even if being hungry, Saar laid back and noticed there was furs also under him, secluding from the stony ground.
Black eyebrows drawn together.
The Nord was the only one to do all this, care for his wounds, wrap him into covers and leaving the potion and the water.
It was odd doing.
Saar had never heard nor experienced any mercenary to be this merciful.
The girl was very naive and stupid if she thought she could treat her targets like this, giving them every opportunity to use her, surprise and attack her. It was so stupid it almost made Saar uncomfortable to be treated by her, and then making her retreat after his boorish remark.
If she really had left him behind and alone here, going after some other target, she was surely going to get killed if not killing her targets before they used her kindness against her. Plus she would not get any reward from them. What was her goal or was she just that stupid?
Hearing footsteps the Orsimer rose back to sit, grimacing after a sharp nausea passed him, and twisted to look with alarm at the comer.
He had no weapons, so if it was more Forsworns or another mercenary, he was going to die. Throwing the girl's work into the wind.
The Orsimer was surprised to see the woman instead, walking down the hill with her equipment, carrying couple of rabbits by their hind legs.

Seeing him awake and sitting she also seemed a bit surprised, then smiled.
"Hi, see you're getting better."
She sat down on the other side of the campfire, placing the rabbits and her backpack and weapons down, watching him.
"I was a bit worried you would need more time to recover but guess you'll be able to travel tomorrow already?"
The Orsimer frowned, lips around his tusks tightening into unsure snarl as he eyed her with confusion.
"Travel for what?" he asked gruffly. "Where are you taking me?"
Blinking the mercenary looked back at him.
"To Riften? Where you have a bounty of your head?"
"Why?"
...The woman tilted her head with unsureness.
"...To have the reward?"
Saar couldn't believe her, couldn't believe how stupid and careless she was. She was going to get killed with that attitude!
Rubbing his forehead with one hand, getting a headache from the amazement of this whole thing, Saar felt sorry for the girl.
"Okay kid", he started, knowing that no-one else was going to tell it to her. She frowned to the name he called her with, but there was bigger problems now. This was so unbelievable it hurt and Saar would really feel like the worst person in the world if he wouldn't say at least something.
"You are a mercenary, right?"
She didn't immediately answer before staring at him for a minute, a sign that just made Saar even more alarmed.
"Yes, I think that's me."
"No, you're not."
The woman frowned, tilting her head to side.
"If you're mercenary, you have to know that you are dealing with dangerous people all the time. People, who are ready to kill you if you just getting the chance to do it."
Gesturing himself he explained.
"Treating me, waiting me to get my strength back, not even tying me up... You are just giving me all the opportunities to use your kindness and kill you while your back is turned!"
Seriously, who had taught this girl or had no-one even done that?! He was a damn bandit and he was lecturing her of how to act as a mercenary. It couldn't be any sadder!
"But you're an Orsimer", the Nord said and Saar had no idea what she meant by it, glaring at her, so she continued. "You have the code of Malacath? You hold honor above everything else?"
"And all the Nords are racist drunkards", he bit back and the girl glared now too. The Orsimer was getting really irritated of... Of her innocence! Her ignorance!
"You have rope?"
"Yeah?" she said. Grunting he started ordering her around.
"Take it out and come here... Well? Now!"
She quickly did as was told, taking out long rope from her backpack and came sitting next to him. Saar hold his hands together and in front of him.
"Tie my hands, tightly. No, don't wrap around them, they'll get loose and I can slip my hand out. Put the rope between my wrists and wrap it around them, crisscross them and then around them, good, don't waste all the rope, then make a tight knot. Under my wrists so I won't get to it with my mouth. Good, tighter, yes that's good."
Saar was pleased as the girl followed his instructions, doing a good job without any stupid mistakes.
"Now this is how you're suppose to do with your targets, if you so eagerly want to haul their asses to the guards. Always keep a lot of rope with you, or even shackles would be better."
The Nord woman kept nodding, fully listening to him. She didn't have the wolf hide's head on, her shoulder length curlies waving around her. They were very dark brown, almost looked black during last night. She tugged some strands behind her ear as she looked at him and his tied hands.
"Then what?" she asked and Saar opened his mouth.
Then shut it as he understood like a dumb what he had just done to himself. Looking down at his bounded hands.
Then at the girl who was smiling. And holding in laugh.
It took a moment for Saar to really understand, that he really had made the girl tie his hands into a tight packet. And she knew it, holding in her laugh while biting her lower lip, corners high up.
The Orsimer growled, darkness crossing his face
"...Untie me."
"No."

The Orsimer was sulking while he laid on the pile of furs, next to the campfire that the mercenary had lightened up. The Nord was frying the skinned rabbits on the other side.
Now and then the Orc, whose hands were bounded in front of him, glared at the woman. And whenever she looked up and their eyes met, she bit her lip and her shoulders started shaking.
Snarling curtly Saar turned to his other side, his back to her.
The stu- Fucking- She was a clever girl, that she was! Acting all innocent and making him feel sorry for her, teach her just to put himself into a deeper crap. How stupid you can be!?
Saar heard the woman getting up and walking around the campfire, then saw her metal boots in his field of view.
"The meat is ready."
He didn't budge, nor looked up.
"...Want me to feed it to you?"
Quick glance.
She was blushing while smirking, holding a cooked rabbit in a stick. Seeing the meat, feeling his mouth watering, Saar swallowed. Getting up he hold his hands out to have it, the woman giving the food and then walked back to her spot on the other side of the fireplace.
They both ate in silence.
Then the Nord's voice broke it.
"I don't think it was fair", she started and was for a moment quiet. So long that, getting curious, Saar turned around to look at the mercenary. She looked back, the rabbit on stick lowered from her mouth. "I had heard you had moved with some other bandits towards here, and after finding your dead comrades I tracked you down."
Saar dug his sharp teeth in and ripped a slice of meat, listening to the girl.
"Then I finally saw you, near the edge, bounded and the asshole waving a torch at you. Then he just started kicking you, just like that. It wasn't fair."
She looked down, then at the pile of bodies, her voice low.
"You were already bounded and wounded. There was no reason to. So, even if you think it's stupid, I don't want to be the one kicking someone already down. It's not right."
Swallowing Saar chuckled dryly, keeping his gaze down.
"There's nothing fair in this world, girl. Don't know how secured life you had before starting this play of mercenary, but people are not fair. If you don't act so that you're always first and in better position than others, you just loose."

The Orsimer's dark eyes looked at the woman.
"You want to keep alive and safe, you drop that innocence. You'll just get killed with it."
He was surprised to see seriousness in her face after his words. The open look in her eyes turning into solid chilliness as she kept staring back at him.
"I know", she spoke evenly. "People die all the time, everyday. But I think it's important what we leave behind when we die. Family or something else. So, I don't want to die and leave people, who I could have helped or treat fairly, to continue their lives without a single happy memory."
...Snorting Saar continued his eating.

Despite of the grim subject of their died conversation, the Nord was curious of the Orsimer, glancing now and then from under the wolf hide's hood.
She had seen Orcs before, but only in battlefield, when they attacked with ramming force and bellowing angrily at her. They had such an angry beast like faces when they laid dead on the ground. Maybe it was the tusks, the most noticeable features at them in first sight.
Though they were a race to be natural born warriors and smiths, she had heard from a friend that there was an Orsimer as librarian in College of Winterhold. So they were not so beast like as commonly was painted of them.
And they had the code of Malacath, even though some Orc bandits didn't live by it. But in other hand, not every Nord was honorable warrior or every Altmer wise nor Khajit a merchant.

The female warrior had taken this Orsimer's bounty letter because he wasn't someone too dangerous but neither too pitiful to be taken down. He was a regular bandit, had killed and robbed people on the roads. It had been tricky to find him.
And when she finally trailed the dead bandits on the road and followed the tracks here, he hadn't seem like the regular brutish orc as she had waited to see. Or that's not what she first saw.
The Nord had not waited to see him in just a pitiful state, tied up and tortured. Seeing the Forsworn waving a torch to the Orsimer's face had angered the woman enough to immediately start attacking the Forsworn camp.
It had been stupidly risky, now that she thought about it. Aela would have smacked her head for being such a reckless pup...
But she hadn't done it to be reckless!
They were cruel to him and even if he was a bandit, he was tied down and already clearly in a bad shape. And if she could do something to stop it, she would do it. Again too.
It had been actually sad how someone so burly and tall like him was in such a weak state. His right tusk had been broken from its middle, his unusual grayish skin carver and covered by bruises and different fresh, untreated wounds. His other eye, that had been swollen shut before she had given the potion, was misty and so probably didn't have a sight anymore in it.

Such cruelty angered her.
If Forsworns were about getting their lands and freedom back, why were they so cruel? If their cause demanded of acting like this, kicking the wounded and weak, she wasn't going to support them in any way...

Looking at the eating Orsimer she was interested of his tattoos that covered almost his whole upper body and arms. Black ink against his grey skin, the patterns swirling and curling endlessly. There was small symbols, sharply formed, between the thick lines.
Had it hurt to have the tattoos? They seemed to be permanent, not like warpaint, not washing or rubbing off as she had cleaned his wounds and then covered them with bandages.
She had never seen an Orc with grey skin like Dunmer's, just various types of green.
With the tattoos, his large build and the thick black beard that covered the sides of his face from ear to ear, made the Orsimer look like a furious warrior. His almost dark looking brown eyes under heavy brows when he frowned and looked at her made her shy.
Like now, as he looked back at her, right now.
The Nord blushed deeply when noticing Saar staring right back her wandering gaze.

"What's you ogling at, huh?" he growled like an angry bear.
"Nothing", she muttered and looked down at her cooked rabbit, taking a large bite from it. He was grumpy and a bandit. And a bit silly, tricking himself to be tied like that. The memory almost shook another wave of laugh from the young warrior.
She shouldn't be nice to him, really. He was a criminal. A murderer. A thief.
But as one thief had once told her, not everything is so black and white, wrong and right. Sometimes things are far more complicated than you see.
Though even if Saar had his reasons to do criminal things, he was still a criminal. And she was going to walk him to Riften and get him punished.
And she would get the prove of her capability to do things on her own.
This was not personal, just work.
But it didn't mean she should act meanly nor cruelly towards Saar.

On the next day, after some more resting, gathering things up and the sun still up on the sky, the Nord said they should start the journey. If he wasn't still too weak.
The question irritated more than it was meant to, probably not at all, but it challenged Saar to get up. The small cloak and the furs slipped off of him.
He looked at the woman whose face was reddening as he stood there.
A smirk formed as he understood what flustered the woman so.
"Gonna watch my bear ass the whole way to Rift?"
Seeing those bluish eyes widening and her mouth gaping amused greatly the naked Orsimer. Even more when she stammered.
"S- Shu- No!" the so-called-mercenary baffled and dropped her backpack, turning towards the pile of things she had gathered from the tents and the dead Forsworns.
Saar noticed his armor being there. And his weapons.
Glancing from the searching woman to his things the Orc decided to try his luck.
"My armor is there", he pointed out casually. "The biggest pieces and made from metal."
The mercenary glanced at the only metal armor pieces among the Forsworns' fur suits.
"And there's my weapons too", Saar added.
Two one-handed weapons, one axe and one sword.
Looking at him with squinted eyes, the wolf cloak's hood shadowing upper half of her face, the woman declared.
"You need only your armor."
Huffing with amusement Saar didn't object, though a bit disappointed. At least she was not as stupid as he thought.

But how was he going to get the armor on him? His hands were bound. Another sly smirk formed to the mer's rugged face. The Nord seemed to know the problem too when she carried the pieces to him, dropping them to the stony ground. She looked up to him uncertainly.
Enjoying every glance, blush and stammer he inspired in her Saar leaned downwards to her, and said in low, softly growling voice.
"Well, how are you gonna put it on me?"
For a moment Saar thought he had gone too far, as the woman pulled out a dagger and slashed with it. She however only cut his ropes, freeing his hands with one swipe and putting the weapon away she turned and walked to her backpack.
"Put it on by yourself", she snarled, not looking at him and keeping her back towards him as she waited.
Staring at the little spitfire Saar took a moment to swallow down the surprising feeling. For a moment he had been scared, and then impressed, yet again, by the mercenary's skills.
He almost forget how innocent she was.
"You got three minutes, then we'll walk. You naked or not", she called and the Orsimer started putting things on him.

The Orc was a brute! And an idiot! And ungrateful!
She had rescued him, taken care of him and he was still alive and yet he acted like a- Well, like a bandit, which he was.
The Nord growled to herself.
The Orc was right, she was acting too nice. Maybe that's why she still wasn't allowed to do quests on her own...
But... She couldn't help it. Though Saar acted like a moron, was a criminal, when ever she looked at him she...
There was some good in him. He wasn't completely evil, she could see that. Or maybe that was what Aela usually said that she was too nice to people sometimes, believed in them too easily. And as a warrior that could be fatal.

Sighing heavily the woman scratched a corner of her mouth, looking at the hill that they had to walk up and down to get to the road and start heading towards the Rift.
It would be many weeks, especially if the Orsimer needed often stop to rest. And they needed to take the route through Falkreath.
Hearing now moving metal and heavy steps behind the Nord turned around and looked.

It wasn't consistent set he had, the pieces were from different heavy armor sets, nothing high quality nor well kept, and he used hide boots.
The unmatched armor made him look like a real high skilled bandit though.
Scowling the woman hold out the rest of the rope she had.
"Now, put your hands together in front of you", she ordered with a slight smile as she did just as he had taught her.

And after that the two were ready to start their journey, both gladly leaving the Forsworn camp behind.