"This is a nice place.", Morvran said, while you were cleaning the blood from his forehead with a piece of fabric that you had ripped from your sleeve. "It's quite and peaceful."

A giggle escaped you, as you remembered that the first time you had found this place, a bear had tried to tear you to pieces.

"It is, sir. Sometimes I come here to relax.", you said, wanting to distract him from the pain.

"Morvran.", he said.

Confused, you stopped and looked at him.

"What?"

"Call me Morvran. Please. Saying Sir all the time is irritating me. It sounds terrible out of your mouth."

"I ensure you I don't want to mock you. This is my normal voice, I say everything like this.", with a serious look on your face, you came closer.

"I've noticed. But that's not what's bothering me. I like your voice, the way you talk. It's... harsh and a little impolite, maybe, but it's not that bad. I just... don't like it when you call me sir."

He leaned back a little.

"Shall I call you young master instead? Like Herman does?"

With a curious spark in your eyes, you leaned towards him again. Your lips were only a hand apart. The tip of your nose was brushing against his. You could feel his breath tickle on your skin.

"Please don't.", he grinned, a reddish blush was spreading on his face. "Morvran is just fine."

Testing, you twisted your mouth and looked at him with sparkling eyes.

"If you insist.", you mumbled. "Morvran."

Somehow it seemed that he was trying to fool you. Maybe he wanted to get rid of you, now that you had caused him so much trouble. Maybe he wanted to throw you out under the intent that you were not referring to him properly.

On the other hand, he seemed a lot more relaxed, now that he had heard his name out of your mouth.

"Morvran.", you muttered again, watching how he would react.

A thin smile appeared on his lips.

"Why are you saying it like that?", he asked.

"I don't know it's just... Morvran... Morvran? Morvran.", you repeated his name over and over again until it seemed right to you. "Do I pronounce it right? Am I saying it weird?"

Strangely amused, he giggled and pet your (H/C) hair.

"It's fine. Just say it the way you would. Do you like my name?", mocking, he leaned forward.

This time, his nose was almost touching yours. He was so close that you couldn't help but stare into his blue eyes again. The colour of his iris was even more beautiful in the dark. He looked a little like a night phenomenon.

"You have a nice eye colour.", you did not dare to speak louder than a whisper.

"Is that so? I thought yours aren't too bad either. (E/C). It suits you.", he whispered back.

You grinned.

"Like my name?", you mocked.

A laugh escaped him, soft and almost lighthearted.

"Yes. A fitting name and a fitting eye colour. I suppose you have two out of three important things."

Questioning, you tilted your head.

"Two out of three things for what?", you asked.

Suddenly, he blushed. His entire face turned red. Ashamed, he leaned back and turned away, covering his glowing face with his hand.

"No. Nothing, it was just a thought of mine. Nothing important."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Yes, nothing important.", still a little red, he looked at you. "Could you take a look at my ankle. The pain is making me say weird things."

He laughed but you noticed how it was forced and he avoided to look you in the face.

Great, you made him feel uncomfortable.

With a bad feeling, you continued to care for the wound. As every dirt was washed out of it, you grabbed some fresh leaves from your pocket, cracker them in the middle and pressed them onto his skin. The juice was burning in the wound. But you had no other choice.

Those leaves helped prevent an infection and supported the regrowing of skin. It wasn't harmful to the blood of humans and was therefore a great method of fixing minor injuries that could become a serious issue.

With a loud hiss, Morvran pulled a face of pain. It wasn't the first time that someone was treating his injuries with herbs or burning things. But this hurt a lot more than he had remembered it form his time at the frontline.

"Does it hurt a lot?", you asked, gently stroking his cheek for comfort.

"It's fine...", with his teeth pressed together, he stood through the pain. "Gods, what is that? It's burning like magic fire."

A gentle laugh escaped your lips. That was a strange thing to compare herbs to. You had never felt the touch of a magic flame, but the way he explained it must have meant that it was the single most terrible pain to feel.

Had he ever been touched by a flame that had been born by magic?

Was his body marked from that encounter?

"It's a simple herb, good for minor injuries. The juice kills off bacteria.", you said.

"Are you taught in human medicine?"

"Not really. I just happened to have the pleasure to come from a part of Nilfgaard that was first to fall into chaos. Because of the war, I mean. I was drafted into the medical field of the army, before I decided to leave."

"You're a deserter?"

"Would you hate me if so?"

For a long moment, he kept his mouth tightly shut.

He had never had sympathy for anyone who was leaving their comrades in the darkest of times. War was not a one person thing. It one died, all would die. Same goes for deserting an army. So he had always tried to keep his battalions close together. It had worked most of the times, but in the end there was always someone who wasn't willing to die for the greater cause.

If he was honest with himself, he too had doubts sometimes. Sometimes he was asking himself what this was all for. All those dead man, that would never return to their wives and all those wives that got insane while being forced to treat their husbands deadly injuries.

"I don't hate you.", he finally said. "I don't understand why you ran away, nor do I know any of your motives. But I won't think of you as a traitor that wanted to drop your country."

A thin smile appeared on your face.

"I would never, general. I would never do so."