Saelud leans back in the chair, his mouth twisted in a deep frown as his trimmed stubble itches and pokes at his chin. The man's hand swirls a bit of rye around the edges of the glass he holds as his eyes stare at the fire crackling and popping in front of him, bits a pitch from the wood causing small sparks as they snapped and then faded. He did not feel the warmth though, his limbs feeling chilled and numb. His chest was tight and something pulled and started to raise at the corners of his eyes until he would blink a few times to clear them. Two arms very lightly snake over his shoulders to hug him before the person glides around him to grab the glass from his hand. "Leave it. I am not finished with.." his words fade out before he can finish his sentence as he stares at a rather worried looking healer.
As he reads the man's expression his hand lets go of the glass. The green eyes staring at him were filled with worry and sorrow. Pity wasn't there but in his chest, he knew it was somewhere in the mix. His tongue moves over his cracked and peeling lips before he breathes out with the goal of forming words, "Clay....Clay, I am sorry. This is not...it is...but..ah. Lords." He leans forward and hides his face in his hands as the glass is set somewhere to his side with a small thud. Hands grab his own, and warm fingers gently pull them away from his face. This time the expression he sees is one of an impending scolding. Clay sits back a bit and he does his best to keep up with the signs from the man's hands. It takes him a few moments to understand but once he does it feels like his chest drops down, his heart falling from its correct placement. All at once, the urge to be sick hits him. "I did not....I did no", he takes a deep breath. "I should have kept a better eye out! It is my fault. He was a young boy! I should have tied the horses...something...anything...I-I, lords Clay, the wagon. It was too late for you...for him." He gets up before a mix of what he had been drinking leaves him and he becomes aware of the wetness on his face as he struggles to find breath.
A hand grabs his arm and pulls him towards somewhere. It's a blur until he hears a creek and the cold air from outside hits his face. The hand holding him continues to drag him forward until he is sitting somewhere, and a cold wet cloth is being run over his face and mouth. He sputters a bit and reaches out to push the hands away before a rasp stops him dead in his tracks. 'Stop, please stop,' comes the voice from the healer he had never heard utter a word before. "Clay?" he questions, his voice shaking. The green eyes staring at him looked hurt. He could not understand why but they seemed as hurt as he felt. 'It was not your fault. Things happen because they do. It is in the past now. It hurts. It hurts that I could not help the boy,' a cough sounds from Clay and Saelud tenses, 'but you can not bury yourself too. No one blames you. The horses spooked and what was done, was done.'
Saelud tries to shake his head his eyes closing as he hits the stone fence next to him with a closed fist. "I could have done something, anything! Anything but what I had done!" Hands grab his and hold them tightly so he can not hit anything else not that he would try to, his body felt drained and tired. 'You told me of a man that set you on this path,' the healer speaks, 'You talked of a man who pushed forward past anything that gave him a past he wished to leave behind. It hurts now and it will always hurt but you will have to make forward or you will be lost and I will be too late just like for that little boy.' A mess of coughing follows and he opens his eyes to watch the man rummage around for water. With his released hands, he reaches to grab Clay's arm. "How can you just move on? A family lost their boy because I did not pay attention!" The man looks at him with a rather deep frown, a sigh coming from him, 'You did not know someone would shoot an arrow at the horses, you did not know they would spook, you had no idea the boy was there. Rye will not fix this, you can not fix it. You have to keep going.' The man takes a large drink of water before pressing the water skin into Saelud's hands and moving to sit next to him, 'A healer can not save everyone', rasps, 'Life has a way of taking what it wishes to take. If not at one moment, then another.' The couriers head hits the fence behind him lightly, "That does not make me feel any less guilty."
