There was no doubt about it; this was a particularly difficult shift. Dathyn. For most of it he had been tending to a rider who had been badly burned while fighting thread. There were a few in the burn ward but this one was the worst off of the lot. He had been changing their dressing and the ointments being used to treat them for hours now...and needed still more to complete the job.

That was why he found himself now leaving one of the supply closets with a heavy burden. Several rolls of wrapping, jars of ointments and creams stuffed under his arms at odd angles and more than a little pain killer for the lot of them. The healer was totally unaware of the figure he cut, especially in silouette with his normally scarecrow like frame, beak of a nose and disheveled hair. His shadow cast down the hall ahead of him looked like a mishappen horror of some sort.

Add to the image the low grumbling and cursing as he struggled with his unwieldy bundle. From a distance he looked, and sounded, like something no one would want to meet in a dark corridor. And unbeknownst to him he was on an interception course with Cremsden....