Nothing happened. Ingrid blinked a few times before tilting her head in thought. The lady was unconscious, so putting water into her mouth might make her choke.

Her fingers rubbed against the course fiber of her wraps. A thought slowly forming in her mind. Wet cloth might be the solution here.

Wandering over to the longer grass near the edge of the burnt fields. She gathered up a handful of blades all pointing the same direction.

---

The wolf cub licked the soaked cloth hanging above it before gnawing at it. The goats milk trickled through and into the pup's mouth. Bring a smile to Ingrid's face as she watched.

"I see you are taking your job seriously." A distorted voice came to Ingrid's ears. Causing her to flinch away from it.

The figure was a patchwork of scratches and black.

---

Ingrid felt her headache come back suddenly, and dropped the handful of grass. The odd memory fading into nothing within moments. Blinking, she forgot why she had dropped the grass.

Gathering another fistful of grass she returned, and poured a bit of water on the grass. Causing it to drip, slowly, from the tips of the blades.

Carefully bringing it over her face, she had to position it in a way to not drip directly into her mouth. And, in a few moments the lips began to twitch.

A few more and her mouth worked to gather and swallow the drops. With her eyes fluttering open a short breath more. They were a light shade of brown that reminded Ingrid of the rich soil in her home's garden.

“Thank you,” the woman croaked, her voice still rough from dehydration and disuse. Ingrid nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Rest,” Ingrid said softly, “Talk later.” The woman closed her eyes again, seemingly content to drift back to sleep.

Ingrid took the opportunity to study her more closely. She appeared to be in her late teens, perhaps even early twenties. Far too old to still be considered a girl, but her skin pale and unblemished despite the ordeal she had endured.

Her hair, a cascade of golden blonde where it wasn't matted and tangled with blood and melted hair. It was a stark contrast to Ingrid's own unruly mane of dark brown hair.

A sudden movement caught Ingrid's eye. The woman's ragged tunic had shifted, revealing a glimpse of a tattoo on her shoulder. Ingrid leaned closer, her curiosity piqued.

The winding loops of the black ink stood out. It's pattern complex but reminding Ingrid of the tattoo her father bore, the symbol of the Warriors, the Valknut.

Turning her head she was able to see most of it, and the image caused her to stare. World-Tree...The symbol of the Shamans.

A wave of cautious excitement washed over Ingrid. Her experience on the road coming back to her, with the dancing blue-gold lights. The powers of Seidr were rare to experience among Warriors, who were uncommon among the tribes.

She watched the woman's steady breaths, her mind buzzing with questions. What was a Shaman doing here? Had she been with the Bloodaxe Clan? Did she run? Did she try to help?

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Ingrid decided to hold her questions for now. After so much time, the woman wouldn't be able to answer her. And, even if she could, Ingrid didn't know if she could trust her words.

In the meantime, she had a more pressing concern: her crude pack was barely holding together as it was. Replacing it completely or at least finding better materials was needed.

Leaving the woman to rest, Ingrid set up a few of the crude spikes she carried. They wouldn't stop anything clever, but it would make a lot of noise if something hit the lines.

That would, at the very least, give her time to run back. Even if she had survived this long, better to be safe than sorry her father always said.

She started to quicken her breaths to move the Megin within herself. The energy pushed her senses further, allowing her to hear the crickets moving around the burned buildings.

She moved with a silent grace, her eyes scanning the debris for anything of use. She found a few scraps of leather and some sturdy rope in a collapsed tannery basement. Though the rest of her pile was all the usable materials.

Within she found a weathered backpack, and a few extra waterskins. Both were made of thick, oiled leather, with the pack's straps worn but still strong.

She returned to the woman, her heart lighter. She had found what she needed, and she had a feeling that this Shaman, whoever she was, would have more information at least.

The Fates had brought them together for a reason, and, as an adult, she would have been told more than her. It was the one problem with being young, no one gossiped around you.

The woman's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light filtering through the cracks in the roof. She winced, a sharp pain lancing through her dislocated and broken arm.

"Peace," Ingrid said, holding her hands up and out.

The woman's gaze passed over Ingrid, seemingly too weak to really see much. "You... you saved me," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Ingrid, hands still extended, moved slowly, "I am Ingrid, daughter of Olaf, Warrior."

"Astridr," the woman replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "daughter of Alia, Healer."

Ingrid frowned, she had heard of healers, but the way she said it sounded like a title. Why hadn't she said Shaman?

"Healer," she asked, speaking slowly, "Not Shaman?" Never insult a Shaman.

Astridr's head turned weakly, "My arm... it's broken and dislocated. I need... willow bark, splints..." her voice wearing out, and coughing.

Ingrid nodded, more for herself than the woman, that sounded like healer stuff. As a Warrior-in-training her father had taught her about many plants that got rid of pain like willow bark.

"Rest, I will return." She then went back to the pile of items and found a couple broken arrows. Useless, since she was no fletcher, but would work well for some splints.

Several of the trees around towns were willows. In fact, many towns and villages planted at least one of them. Made it easy to deal with babies and their teething.

She had spotted a couple such trees near the broken granary, so it was a short walk to strip the outer bark off. So, she could gather the softer, and more useful, inner bark of the tree.

It would be best as a tea, but chewing the stuff would work too. Even if it was disgustingly bitter and unpleasant in the mouth. Ingrid tried some just to remind herself of it.

And, it was as terrible as she remembered. A grimace passed her features as she thought of that woman chewing this stuff, but shrugged and went back. Never argue with a healer.

When she got close enough. She slowed down and made plenty of noise while humming. It seemed best to alert the Healer, who could still be a magic using Shaman. That she was there before she spoke.

"I have willow's bark and a few arrow shafts. Also string for binding." It wasn't good string, she thought, looking down at the twisted stuff.

Astridr's head bobbed and Ingrid approached to begin working on the arms. They were both shattered like a hammer had been used on them. Ingrid could feel the shards of bone under the skin.

Yet, the skin was perfectly undamaged, besides the bruises. Perhaps this was evidence of her using Seidr? It was certainly odd, but the woman was completely helpless it seemed.

She pressed the willow bark to Astridr's mouth until she starting chewing on it. It had to be a good amount so she could bite down on it while Ingrid splinted the arms.

Muffled groans were not what Ingrid had expected from the experience. Thought the feeling of so many shattered bones wasn't either. She more molded everything into place, and then rapidly bound them with the twine and shafts.

Unsurprisingly, Astridr passed out again before she finished. It was to be expected with her level of recovery. Though Ingrid hoped that the next time she woke. There could be questions.