"My name is Lyaria, what is your name?" She takes off one of the coats she was wearing and drapes it over the woman's shoulders.

“Irene.” The woman sighs with relief as she feels the immediate heat on her back thanks to the fact that the coat still had some warmth.

“Are you injured somewhere? Is that blood not yours?” Lyaria starts to check her out before she even gets a response.

“No, it's not mine. Apart from the cold... I'm fine.”

"Ezer?" Lyaria asks without looking away from Irene.

“I feel better now, I can stand up and the nose has stopped bleeding. Don't worry about me and take care of her.” Ezer stands up surprised at the effect that the blow left on his face, he still felt a slight dizziness.

“I'll take her to the camp, I can't let her keep getting cold.”

"Okay, I'll give you guys some time to clean up." Ezer didn't think he could move at the moment and also knows he has to give the two of them privacy.

Ezer is left alone in the dark feeling the pain in his ribs and nose while looking bitterly at the mercenary's body. He knew that once again he escaped death by luck, if things had turned out differently or the woman had not intervened... he would be dead.

He sighs and reproaches himself.

Costly goodness

The mercenary's body did not take long to cool down, with each passing second it became stiffer. Ezer removes the coats, leaving only the lightest clothes for respect, money, weapons, everything that is useful is also taken.

"That woman needs clothes. I think her name was... Irene.” Ezer clutches his ribs in pain as he bends down to remove the boots from the body.

It was impossible for him to dig the ground to bury the body, so he piles up some rocks and dry branches in an attempt to protect it. Though he knew his efforts would be useless should an animal find it, his humanity compels him to do so anyway.

"I hope you would have done the same if the roles were reversed." He wipes the crusts of dried blood on his nose as he walks away.

Returning to camp, Ezer finds Irene sleeping soundly wrapped in a pile of coats near the fire that Lyaria made sure to feed.

“How she is doing?”

“Exhausted, I didn't find any wounds except a few bruises on her skin.”

"Did she tell you anything about her history? Why were they chasing her?”

“Nothing specific, just some details and nothing more. She fell asleep before she could explain herself, let's wait for her to wake up.”

“Okay.” Ezer was tired and sore, he still hadn't been able to close his eyes so far that night. However, Lyaria stops him as he was about to lay down.

“We should do something with your hair first.”

“My what...?” Being half asleep he found it difficult to understand.

“Although it is not uncommon to see it in fifty-year-old men, in someone young it is, it is also the characteristic by which they can easily recognize you.” Both Ezer and Lyaria were living proof of the ancient elven existence, the existence many called gods.

"I'll wear my hood."

"That'll work outdoors, but it'll draw attention anywhere inside."

“So?”

"Then we'll use this…" Lyaria reaches into her bag for some fine roots no longer than her palm. “Its liquid can easily dye your hair to a much darker shade.”

"Why didn't you suggest it before?"

“It is difficult to obtain, although once applied it resists even hot water... it will slowly lose color. That's why I wanted to wait until we were close to a town and seize every day, I didn't expect us to meet someone now.” Lyaria begins to prepare by submerging the roots in boiling water.

“She saw me before, Irene. She will definitely find the change weird.” That was the only problem Ezer found.

“Yes, well... she was tired, stressed, afraid, she didn't see what thought she saw. That's what we'll make her believe.”

“I hope you do.”

“One more thing, dye…it works best when applied hot.” The water slowly thickened and turned a deep black color.

“How much?” Ezer could already see a headache coming.

"Obviously not boiling point, but... pretty close."

"Ahh ... Fine, I'll leave it up to you." Ezer knew very well that Lyaria had no intention of hurting him, he could blindly trust her.

The final product of the mixture was impressive, with so few ingredients and processes, a thick black liquid forms in the container that was overflowing with steam.

“It will hurt a little, but trust me.”

“I always do.” Ezer flashes a smile that fades instantly as the mixture falls into his hair.