Dirty and tired, she let herself collapse on the edge of Lake Aelin, too wary to go any further and not seeing the need to anyway. With stiff fingers, she undid her cloak and let it drop to the ground beside her, her dagger and the horribly worn leather shoes added to make a heap.
Her long, brown hair, made to look darker by all the dirt, swept forward as she went to her knees and crawled to the water’s edge. The first few handfuls of water she took to splash her face, the next ones to quench her thirst. Once said two activities were done, she began to scrub at the wounds that encircled both her wrists. Dirt and dried blood washed away to reveal the skin that had been rubbed raw from ropes tied far too tight.
She did the same for both her ankles before she let herself fall back and then curling up on her side in an attempt to rest and regain some of her lost energy.
“I’ll be sure to kill myself before I’m taken a prisoner of war again,” she muttered.

Oreius was making his way along the slight rise in the land near the edges of Lake Aelin, several large fish wrapped up in his cloak, which he had tucked under his right arm, while his left rested on the hilt of his blade. Cantering along relatively peacefully, the Centaur had nothing but the options of how to cook the fish that night on his mind, till he spied down by the waters edge a youngish human woman, who appeared to be resting, but filled with exhaustion.

Deciding that he did not wish to interfere in a stranger's business, as was the typical Centaur view on such matters, he made as if to continue on his way, but only made it a few more strides before turning back to look at the human woman once more. She seemed to be exhausted from more than mere travelling, and against his better judgement Oreius decided he would at least check if she was alright.

Looking to either side of him, the Centaur slowly trotted down to the water's edge, to where the woman was lay down, resting, but he could tell by the the heavy breathing that she had not done so for a long time.

Lowering his horses' legs so that he was sat on all-fours next to the human, Oreius placed a human hand on her shoulder and said in his deep, heart-infiltrating voice,

"Young Mistress, are you okay?" His eyes caught the wounds round her wrists and ankles again and he added, "Do you need medical help?"

As the web of sleep first descended on her, finally, she heard movement in the underbrush. Had it simply moved away, she would have dismissed it as one of the woodland creatures but it didn’t. As the equine, for she now heard the hoof-beats, made its way across the bank to her, she let years of training take over.
It took almost too much effort but Etain made her move nonetheless. With a quick, fluid movement, she rolled over, snatching up the dagger and placing its blade up against the skin where horse parts connected with human parts.
“I’m right as rain, sir,” she replied though rather curtly. Her brown eyes, full of suspicion, could barely stay open as she watched the man before him. For a brief moment, the suspicion was replaced with desire and hunger as she took note of the fish under his right arm but she pushed that away, trying her best to forget how long it’d been since she’d had a decent meal. After all, the fish were rightly his, he’d caught them not her so why would he have any interest in sharing them with her?