Found

He awoke to prodding hands. They skimmed his face, cool and soothing. Ghosting over his closed eyes, they paused under his nose until he exhaled against the skin.

The hands moved down, plucking at his clothes. He tried to force his eyes open, but it was as if his mind was no longer connected to his body. He felt the hands from far away.

A confused notion of alarm sluggishly fought to the fore of his awareness. Who did the hands belong to? Were they there to help or hinder?

Perhaps he had been found by his brother… No, that was not right, anyone who knew him would not treat him so gently.

A dark bubble of thought frothed from his cracked soul; perhaps he would be robbed and his suffering ended by a bandit's blade. Better yet, let them be a baneling! A more ignoble and ironic end could not be asked for.

Perhaps it would be someone sufficiently in awe of his countenance to be ordered to aid him. He need only find the strength to make the command to escape the Keeper's wrath a little longer.

He made a valiant effort to pull his mind from darkness, but was thwarted when the hands found his bandaged shoulder and tore the wrapping away. It felt like a cry was wrung from his lips as he sank back into unconsciousness, but in reality it was a breathless wheeze.

The helping hands rubbed the malodorous slime oozing from the wound between two fingers, and came to a decision. As gently and quickly as the hands were capable of, the fallen man was wrapped in a cloak and dragged away.