Ivaan stared at the heart as it slowly beat.It was an odd little thing. It had to be hardy to live on its own like this. he hoped he could return it to it's owner, but a creature without a heart probably wasn't going to be up and about much, if at all.
A noise.
Ivaan closed the bag and turned.
'you let them kill master!'
The strikes were pitiful, but Ivaan yelped, more out of surprise than any kind of pain.
Reaching up, he plucked the creature from his face and lifted him up in front of his face, looking the small goblin-like creature over, a large paw under each arm.
He looked at the creatures wounds and cringed.
"Your master tried to kill us, number three. and he was preparing to kill hundreds, maybe even thousands more. He brought a country to its knees. We did the right thing killing him. I'm sorry you were wrapped up in this, and I'm sorry you got hurt, but I am not, and will never be, sorry, for killing Abumot."
Ivaan put him down on the ground and held him down with one paw while he took ointment and bandages out of his bag.
Now hold still, if we're lucky the burns on your arms might not have gotten infected. I can't give you new hands, but I may be able to save your arms if I cut away the rotten flesh." Ivaan inspected the wounds, applying only enough pressure on 3's chest to keep his patient still. after a short time, he spoke; "Most of the wound was cauterized by the fire, there's actually surprisingly little dead flesh. You're a lucky fellow." Ivaan paused at this; "relatively speaking." Ivaan fished a small bottle from his bag and offered it to the poor creature.
"It's a painkiller, it'll stop the wounds from making you die of shock when I operate on the wounds."
When three struggled, he added; "three, your master is gone. you are free. Accept it, and move on. You don't have to believe he was an evil man, but you know he brought his death on himself. Now you have two options, let me help you, let me prove to you I'm not your enemy, that I'm not evil, or a murderer, or you can refuse my treatment and die of gangrene. Either way, I'll give you the milk of the poppy to ease your suffering, but I'll leave the choice of whether to live or die up to you."
As he paused, a few leaves fell from the trees around him, and the small dirt path the two were on filled the silence with sounds of bird calls and chirping insects.
Ivaan looked at three. The poor creature didn't ask to be enslaved, or have his will so thickly entrenched in his masters safety. He was just a fool controlled by emotion and duty, trying to do what he thought was right.
The emotions in the creatures single, large, moist eye reminded Ivaan of himself a little.
