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[Kylee Meer]

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Sickly green tinged with brown edges, the smell of infection permeated the air. Stepping one foot to the left, Kylee turned her attention to the source of the stench. Soaked to the bone in his own sweat and dripping with fever, only one arm, part of a leg and a mass of blond hair could be seen above the furs. Haphazardly she reached to scratch her palms as the itch grew more persistent.

"Are you Death?" Weak but clear the voiced questioned her.

"I am not. However, I worked along side him until the age of twelve." She thought she heard him give a slight groan. Her stark white robe swayed across her ankles as she moved. Removing her gloves, she knelt down beside him. She her left hand under the furs just enough to place it squarely on his shoulder. His blue eyes came alive as the heat in her hands infiltrated his senses. Her fingers tingled as she closed her eyes. She saw her warmth wrap around the infection, palming it as she did his shoulder. In that instance she opened her eyes and took her right hand to the edge of the furs flipping them back quickly.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Regarding him silently she ignored the question as she felt him push against her. In his weakened state the figure before her was not much of an opponent and she didn't budge. Her black eyes snapped to the seeping wound, a hole in his side roughly two fingers wide and a finger and a half deep, or so she would guess by the feel of her own as she jabbed them into it. Once again he struggled against her.

"How did you injure yourself?"

"The Orcs handed me my ass."

Taking her gaze off the wound and moving it to to meet his piercing blue set she gazed at him evenly. "Were they missing their own? I don't believe they would want yours."

With that the heat increased in both of her hands exponentially. Concentration etched her face, pain etched his. The itch in her fingers intensified momentarily as she worked her hands across his torso until her left covered her right as it moved within his wound. His well muscled body bucked and writhed beneath her touch. Only when she felt the tissue begin to knit itself together did she remove her flesh from his. Backing up with an exhale of air, the itch subsiding she quietly removed her hood.

[Chad Ryley]

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He could only guess he’d been in the cave for about four days. And he’d come to uneasy terms with his mortality. But he didn’t expect death to walk in wearing white. The petite form beneath the hooded robes confirmed his worst fear: Death was a wench. Damn. So much for reasoning with him.

“Are you Death?” He asked as she inspected him, his voice far weaker than he’d hoped it would sound.

“I am not. However, I worked along side him until the age of twelve.” The voice was light – airy, like chimes.

He groaned as she laid a hand on his shoulder. Even worse. A wench who could call in favours from Death. “Long as you’re not running an errand for him at the moment, we’re good.”

Before he could speak again, heat and pain radiated from her hand. Chad groaned and writhed, trying to push away her hand, but he could not. Sweat poured down over his face as she flipped back the pelts that covered him and manipulated the wound. She jammed her fingers inside the hole in his side that went through to the gut, asking nonchalant questions as if she were making a sandwich. He tried again to pull away, but her grip on him held firm. Heat radiated within the wound and spread into the muscle around it. A healer…she’s a healer! She moved her hand down over the one inside the wound and the heat increased exponentially. Again he groaned. A really bad healer! Or a sadist...

Something deep within the hole in his side tingled, and the heat subsided as she removed her hands. Chad squirmed away from her with what strength he still had, as she simply knelt in the dust and looked at him. The worst of the pain faded, and the colour returned to his face as he pushed himself up to lean back against the cave wall.

“That’s amazing.” Chad glanced down at the wound, which looked decidedly better than it had since the day it happened. Then his gaze lifted to her, utterly perplexed. “What are you?”

“I’m Kylee.” The hooded figure dropped her hood, revealing a face far younger than he’d expected. Her features were angular – delicate. Her hair was light blonde – nearly silver, but her eyes were black – matching obsidian stones set by the hands of the gods. She flipped back the flap on her pack and pulled out a perfect, shiny red apple, handing it over to him.

"I'm Chad." He lifted the apple eagerly and took a huge bite, chewing as he spoke with his mouth full. “Bless you Kylee. You’re an angel.”

She smiled oddly as she pulled an apple out for herself and took an enthusiastic bite.

Chad took another bite, watching her narrowly. Guess there are worse ways to pass an afternoon than having lunch with Death’s minion…