"You are here, my dear, because two noble fellows found you wounded, hurt and unconscious under your horse. They could not leave you lying where you were; their conscious would not allow it." As Bethberry spoke, she continued to clean and bandage the wounds, swaddling them with soft linens.
Saeryn grimaced slightly as the healer moved her limbs and then grunted in reply to the statement. She had not really meant why was she here, but something more metaphysical. Not what had created her current condition, but what was she doing there in the first place.
Saeryn lay quietly for a bit, listening to the quiet movements of Bethberry's hands and the children's occasional murmers. Behind the door, they could hear humming and hawing from our two heroes. And from the Great Hall rose sounds of laughter, the clinking of cups, the rattling of cutlery, the bustle of evening dinner.
The Saeryn rose up slightly and asked her question again, rephrased this time.
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