Gale leaned heavily against the tree, ignoring the agony from his skin and ribs. "I can heal. It is one of my talents. As for getting out, I created an illusion. We looked like Whitecloak soldiers. " He paused, letting his breath come in gasps. "I can heal you. It will not ever be the same, since you have not had immediate healing, but it will help." He dragged himself over to the warder, and laid a hand on his arm, the one he hoped was not injured. He opened himself up, knowing it was a stupid thing to do in his state, but he did so anyway. He bit his lips as the weaves flowed from his hands, biting into them and burning him. When it was done he curled up, holding his hands to his chest, trying to stop the pain. "It is as best as I can manage now." He spoke through sobs that he had been keeping in as best he could, this last agony pushing him over the edge.

When he had recovered, he inched his way over to his tree and sat back against it. He kept his eyes down, ashamed at loosing control in front of a Warder, who he had heard showed very little emotion. He was exhausted from channeling, and every movement he made was violently protested by his body. He knew he could not heal himself, it was a well known rule of healing. He closed his eyes and drifted off, restless, but sleeping.

xxxx

Lain raised an eyebrow as the Asha'man answered, concentrating on his voice. He could Heal... what were the chances of that? Before he could protest, the man crawled over, placing a hand on his arm. "N-" he tried to say, but was swept away in the Healing. He convulsed with cold as flows- filthy, tainted flows... whispered a small voice within him- coursed through him. He felt the flood of blood down his leg slow to a trickle, then stop completely. Lain slumped back against his trunk as the man moved away, clutching his mangled hands.

"It is as best as I can manage now..." the Asha'man wept, tears falling down his face uncontrolled. Lain looked into his face, surprised. Of course... it was so obvious now. The Asha'man was still only a boy- he had never had to go through anything even remotely like this before. Realizing he was staring, he quickly averted his eyes, peering down. Poor boy, he thought yet again, biting his lip.

After awhile, the noises stopped, and Lain looked up, finding the boy back at his tree. His eyes slowly closed, and his breathing evened as he fell asleep. Lain considered him, casting a critical eye over his wounds. Most of the burn marks looked pretty painful, but bearable, for awhile. His palms, on the other hand... It looked like something had been driven straight through, to the other side... and remnants of a blood-stained white rag hung over both hands. Sighing, he crawled to the boy's side. Setting his back against the trunk, he brought his good leg up, tearing strips off the cuff of his breeches.

Praying to the Light for him to be out cold, he gently took the rags off his hands, wiping away blood with them before burying them in the dirt. Wiping his hands on his thighs, he tightly bound the hands in the fresh strips, tying them securely. That done, he leaned back, the exhaustion from his ordeal and the Healing finally catching up to him, carrying him into a deep sleep.

xxxx

Gale woke sometime later, his hands throbbing. If anything he felt more tired, rather than refreshed from his sleep. Looking down at his hands he saw that the wrappings had been replaced. He looked around and saw the Warder near him, asleep. Preparing himself, he got to his feet, using his hands as little as possible. Listening for the sound of running water, he walked slowly for always, keeping close to the trees if he needed to rest. For awhile, he walked, until he reached a small stream.

He drank his fill, and stuck his face in the stream. The slow movement of the brook allowed him to study his reflection. The bruises on his face had receded to a weird green color, as, he assumed, the ones he had received from his beating, though most of these were covered by angry burns. He turned away. There was nothing he could do for himself. He felt a certain amount of gratitude toward the Warder for attempting to help but in their condition there was not much.

It was late evening by the time he had painfully made his way back to the camp. Exhausted he leaned his back against the tree, feeling shards of his broken ribs poke him uncomfortably. It had taken him a long time to get to and from the stream. An hour for that mere half mile. Of course it was primarily his... injuries, but he felt somewhat helpless. He could walk, his legs were fine if you did not count the burns. His hands were important, though, and the use of them was something he did not have. Thinking to himself, he waited for the Warder to come around, wondering how he had had enough strength to make it to the stream, nothing except for his need for water had driven him there. Perhaps he had a few more hidden surprises, some that would let them survive.

xxxx

Lain woke slowly, rising from the depths of sleep. As consciousness came back to him, he winced, wishing it hadn't. Memories flooded through his mind's eyes in a torrent, flashes of torture and waiting for death. Moving to rise caught him again, causing him to wince as his leg refused to move properly. A quick survey of his surroundings showed the Asha'man leaning against a tree, deep in thought; and not much else. He sat up finally, levering himself up with his good arm. Staring across the grass, a thought came to him suddenly. I don't even know his name...

"Asha'man," he said abruptly. "Can you stand?" He rose himself, less gracefully than usual. But then that was to be expected. He hadn't thought he would live to walk again... Shaking off gloomy thoughts, he refocused. Asha'man. Walk. Safety... Without waiting for a reply, he limped off towards the sound of water, thirst calling to him. He was suddenly aware of how bone dry his mouth was...

As he reached the small stream, he awkwardly knelt, splashing his face. Sitting at the edge, he dipped his legs in, letting the gentle current wash away the blood crusted on his legs. He gulped from an equally grimy hand, quenching his thirst. The cold water shocked his system, something else coming to mind. He hadn't eaten for days... If they didn't think of something soon, they would both die alone out here. Lain stood grimly, marching resolutely back.

As he sat again, dusting off a rock, he cocked his head at the man. "I don't even know your name..." he murmured, almost to himself. A small look flashed across the Asha'man's face, and realization dawned on him. He moved forward, gingerly crouching near him.

"How bad are your wounds?" he asked in a low voice.

xxxx

The Warder asked if he could stand before moving away, toward the stream. He watched him go. The Warder returned, looking slightly refreshed. Kneeling by his side, he spoke. "How bad are your wounds?" Gale shook his head.

"My ribs are broken pretty badly, I am burned quite badly in some places, and my hands are useless. I can walk, and that seems about all I can do. I will not channel any more. The risks are not ones I will take now that I am not in the camp." He looked down at his hands, where they were wrapped. "I can walk. This is a good thing, even though I am slow at it. I do not want to just give up and wait to die. I could get myself out in time. Right here is not a prime spot for recovering though. I suggest that we move to the stream, where there is water."

He painstakingly got to his feet, using his forearms to lift himself up, with aid of the tree. Gritting his teeth, he took a few shallow breaths to recover. If anything, his ribs encumbered him most, restricting many movements. He wouldn't be surprised if the Warder got fed up with his slow progress and just left. The man was healed, if not very well, his injuries had been extensive and had been healed late. Healing was one of his talents, though he could not travel more than a few miles, his gateway fell apart after this point.

He looked at the Warder, trying to recall what the whitecloak had called the man. Lain? Yes, he believed it was something close to that. He waited for the man to suggest a course of action, so he would not have to move more than he had to.

xxxx

Lain watched with concern as the Asha'man got up, levering his body with his arms to avoid his hands. Rising beside him, he watched the man carefully. He didn't have anything punctured in him, or he would be dead by now... Or at least, he should be.

"I don't want to give up either," he said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Not yet, anyways... Not because of the Monster. "Let's go," he said, beginning to move off. He stayed close, however, hoping the Asha'man wouldn't fall over, or faint. The pain would be terrible. "So," he hazarded, picking his way carefully over the uneven ground. "What is your name, Asha'man?" Suddenly, he pitched forward, tumbling to the dirt. His foot had caught on a root, instead of going over it. Cursing the Creature with words that would make a wagon-driver gasp in shock, he rolled awkwardly to his feet, bereft of his usual grace. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, a realization suddenly hit him. He would never be the same. Never...

He determinedly pressed on, glaring ahead of him.

xxxx

Gale started off slowly. Trying to ignore the sharp protests of his ravaged body. They had gone only a few feet when the Warder tripped, cursing. Gale barely avoided tripping himself. He looked on sympathetically at the Warder, whose healing could never have reversed the terrible damage done to him. His name was asked of him, and Gale's mind, fuzzy and muddied answered after a few moments. "Gale. I am called Gale."

Somehow they made it to the stream. Gale was exhausted after the short trip and lack of nourishment. He sank down to the ground, panting with the effort of walking this far and using anything but his hands to lower himself. He sat hunched for a few seconds before straightening with a gasp as his ribs bit into him. He lay back, eyes closed, recovering. He truly was useless now, he thought, bitterly. He was beginning to doubt if he could make it out alive from the woods.

A while later he sat up, moving to a nearby rock. He leaned back. He thought, for having little else to do. Shaking his head slightly he wondered about how much had happened to him, in his short twenty years. He didn't want to die but he could feel himself almost slipping over the brink.

xxxx

"Gale. I am called Gale." Lain nodded, still cursing silently at himself. They seemed to crawl to the stream, collapsing and breathing heavily after the small trip. The oaths slipping through Lain's mind increased as he looked at the Asha'man- Gale- gasp. His ribs... Even from his spot a little ways from Gale, he could plainly see the broken bones, jabbing sharply out in places. The man sat back, his eyes closed, panting.

Lain slowly lay his body back on the soft bed of grass, wincing at a faint pain and stiffness. Time passed slowly, the silence broken only by Gale moving to a rock, leaning back. That's it, thought Lain, seeing a hopeless look that mirrored his own flash across the man's face. do something! Within seconds, he had stood, brushing himself off.

"Come on," he said, briskly striding over to him. "We've got to get you some help. I think we're still in Tar Valon territory, and even if we're not, close enough for people to open their doors. A farm, a village..." He trailed off, thinking. A village would be best, with a midwife or whatever they called her. Maybe she would even be a channeler, though this close to Tar Valon it was unlikely the Aes Sedai would pass over her. Considering Gale, he thought how best to help him. He seemed almost unconscious, his face pale and clammy. Finally, he dipped down, gently slipping his left arm under Gale's shoulders. Hauling him to his feet, he began to move slowly but steadily, in the opposite direction of the Monster's camp.