"You have refuge here in The White Horse Inn, young lady. You had visited here and left to do a family errand. Our noble heroes found you injured by your horse. We know not what happened." Bethberry continued to wipe the mud away from Saeryn's face as they talked.
"You, you, you know my name then?" The girl leaned back into the pillows, dizzy.
"You told us it is Saeryn, and so Saeryn we shall call you. I am the innkeeper here."
The young girl tried to mouth the name, but the word failed her as a lump came up in her throat.
"We will get the other young girl, Gudryn, to help your recovery as she says she has some skill also with healing. Perhaps she can get you talking so you recover your memory."
"she,she is here?"
"No, unfortunately the heroes have gathered her to a feast, but she will return. For now you are stuck with my poltices and pills."
Saeryn made a face.
"Tut! You won't heal if you don't take your medicine!" Bethberry deftly applied some ungent to the girl's bruises and cuts and tucked her into clean sheets.
"I'll find some clean clothes for you, while the twins clean your boots. Gudryn will bring them back to you, likely, if she will take on the task of helping me."
With that, Bethberry quietly left the room to seek the Great Hall. The aromas of Frodides' cooking were wafting through the inn and the sound of conversation was rising to meet her. Tragedy and violence and great harm, it seemed, did little to lessen certain appetites.
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