Her gloved hand withdrew as if burned, and she cradled it against her chest, taking two startled steps backward through the drifts. The movement nearly threw her off balance, but as Josette fought to regain her control, she spread her feet and found her center. Then, she drew her sword, her default when it came to uncertain situations. What had just happened? Even as she filled her lungs with the frigid Salvaric air, her mind raced with the same ferocity as her heart beneath her armor. The man had either been delivered to death's door, or was well on his way, when she found him. She had not even touched him before his body lurched, like some undead Raiaeran monstrosity. Was she watching his spirit flee his body, or was the man not so far gone as she had originally assumed?

The latter became more plausible as the stranger's hand clawed at the snow, struggling to find purchase as he dragged himself along. Josette inhaled sharply as the movement shifted the draped cloak. Below it, she found a splattering of red, like rubies to the emerald of the cloth. The more he moved, the more was revealed, until she realized the entire front of his shirt was bloodied. Those looked like wounds a man could die from, Josette determined, unless the cold claimed him first. Even with the sun at its noontime climax, the chill was nearly unendurable. A person in good health would not survive the night, or even the darkening hours of dusk, as the temperature began to plummet. How would he possibly survive hours more of this? How had he evaded death for this long?

This was only the tip of her iceberg of questions, as she had no idea who he was, or where he came from. Still, she would feel better solving this one mystery, if nothing else. Had he been deposited there within the past few hours, she would have seen it across the wide plains. Therefore, the only possible explanation was that he had laid there since early morning, a Herculean feat that Josette still struggled to believe.

So lost in thought, she was neither close enough nor attentive enough to catch the man as he tumbled back into the deep powder. Though his body no longer moved, his startling golden eyes sought and locked on hers. They were clouded with pain, and muddled with confusion, but he managed a simple query before slipping into unconsciousness. Fortunately, he had chosen a lull in the howling wind, or else she might have missed the words he spoke.

Again, Josette found herself faced with a choice - mount up and ride on, or tend to the stranger? Considering the severity of his wounds, she wondered if it might be like trying to bale out a sinking ship as it took on water. She lacked the tools and the knowledge to plug his wound before moving him, and the nearest town was still miles off. And the nearest town was in Ressin. She was waltzing into the lion's den, and with her red cloak and unconscious patient, she might as well write ahead to announce her arrival. The woman had made many mistakes in her lifetime, and some very bad choices, but most were revealed to be so in hindsight. Never had she knowingly done something so impossibly stupid.

But could she let one more perish beneath the cloudless Salvic sky?

She blew out a sigh, turning back to Dras; the horse had remained stationary, apparently unfazed by the dying man before him. "What should I do?" Josette asked. His response, a low rumble in his chest, could be interpreted as either cautionary or scolding. No help at all.

[...]