The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest clearing. The remnants of the fierce battle are scattered around, broken weapons and fallen enemies littering the ground. In the center of the chaos, a horse stands, its eyes wide with concern as it nudges the charred and motionless form of the rogue lying nearby.
As the dust settles, the horse begins to shimmer and shift, its form melting away like mist in the morning sun. The transformation is a sight to behold as bones crack and reconfigure, skin and fur pulling back to reveal the true form beneath.
Short Order quickly surveys the scene, his sharp gaze landing on Kutshort. The rogue lies sprawled on the ground, his once agile form now blackened and brittle, his skin crackling with the remnants of fire.
"Well that feller looks pretty bad...", Short Order whispers.
Despite the urgency, Short Order takes a moment to steady himself, drawing upon the deep well of nature's power that thrums within him.
He kneels beside Kutshort, his heart heavy with the sight of his fallen new companion. Kutshort's clothes are little more than tattered, burnt rags clinging to his body, and the acrid scent of smoke still lingers in the air. But beneath the charred exterior, Short Order senses the faintest flicker of life, a stubborn ember refusing to be extinguished.
Closing his eyes, Short Order murmurs a soft incantation, the ancient words of Druidic weaving through the air like a gentle breeze. As he speaks, a warm green light envelops his hands, pulsing with the rhythmic heartbeat of the earth itself.
He places his hands gently on Kutshort's chest, the healing energy flowing from his fingertips and into the rogue's body. The light surges through Kutshort, mending torn flesh and knitting together broken bones. It is as if the forest itself has come to the rogue's aid, infusing him with vitality and strength.
Kutshort's breath hitches, and he gasps, his eyes fluttering open as life rushes back into his veins. He blinks up at the sky, confusion giving way to recognition as he sees Short Order's familiar face hovering above him.
Kutshort heals 12 points of damage and regains consciousness.
"Horse?" Kutshort croaks, his voice barely a whisper.
Short Order grins, his eyes twinkling with relief and mischief.
"Try to not die next time...unless it's though an ice explosion."
The rogue manages a weak chuckle, wincing as he shifts to sit up. His skin is still tender and raw, but the druid's magic has worked wonders, restoring his vitality.
Short Order helps Kutshort to his feet, supporting him with a strength that belies his small frame. The rogue leans on him heavily, but there is a fire in his eyes now, a determination that has been rekindled by the druid's magic.
Together, they survey the aftermath of the battle, the foes they have vanquished and the comrades who still stand. The clearing is quiet now, save for the rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird. It is a moment of peace amid the turmoil, a reminder of the bonds that hold their motley crew together.
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