As she saw it, Lyfrid had two main options. She could pretend she never saw the man bleeding in the tall grass and keep walking or she could do something to help him. In a few seconds, she reasoned it would be easier to keep walking, not get involved.
Then again, the Seer didn't always take the easy way, at least when there was the potential of some kind of personal gain. The decision was made. The woman decided to see what she could do for him, even if he died, at least she would have his possessions to sell. Besides, in his condition, unconsciousness, she could hide his things, sell them later and say she found him that way. After all, she wasn't a murderer and leaving him to die was murder by neglect.
Rolling the large man to his back, she saw the wound on his side. It was full of dirt and debris, probably from falling to the ground. Skillfully, she assessed the wound as one that would heal with the right care. Fortunately for this man, she knew how to mend the wound, he would survive.
She left him there, bleeding in the grass, walked back to the stable and collected her horse just as the last light of the afternoon turned into the darkness of early evening. Leading the spotted horse, she casually walked back to her patient. There would be no way she would be able to lift the man onto the horse but she figured a way to move him. Rolling him to his back, she tied both ankles with rope to the rings on the back of her saddle and had her freckled horse slowly drag the armored man down the hill to her cottage. From there she slowly dragged him, by his booted feet, into the tiny cottage.
Pulling the man near the small fireplace, she lit a fire and lanterns and got to work by starting with removing his armor and clothing so she could clean and stitch the wound. Lyfrid started by removing his helmet. His face was filthy and his hair matted. She reached for the cloak, and found it clasp by something she had seen many times before. At first her jaw dropped in a gasp. Bursting into laugher a moment later, she plucked the silver brooch off the cloak and shoved it into her pocket and wrung her hands gleefully. Oh this Man before her would be worth much, much more than his value of his fine armor and sword.
Happily, not because it was the right thing to do but because this man was now worth more alive than dead, she deftly repaired the wound, wrapped him in clean blankets and slipped a sliver of a root under his tongue. The dark haired man had not made a sound, he was unconscious and she meant to keep him as close to that state as possible, but she would need more root. In the morning, Lyfrid would visit the mender in Trestlebridge for more of the valerian root and nardin, lots of it, she would need to distill a special drink for her unexpected guest.
