He kind of wished he had kept his boots. The ground was a lot more unforgiving as he walked through the woods than he had thought it would be. But he was a man of the church, and one thing he was taught was to help others in need.
And since he was also being helped, it would do him wrong not to help where he could in return.
Still, it didn't mean he couldn't be scowling by the time he did find the water, hoping he'd remember the way back but part of him was a bit too tired to care.
He worked at peeling off his clothing, slinging what armor was left aside and letting his clothes fall into a limp pile int he dirt. He didn't bother ot try to hang them up or anything, nor care to look around more than once to see if anyone else was around.
But then he stood there naked, walking out into the shallow waters until the wide stream came up to cover his hips, and he began to take great handfulls of water and splashed them at his face, before he simply submerged himself completely and scrubbed all through his hair and body with his dirty fingernails until he felt raw- but somewhat clean.
He should have asked the woman if she had any soap, but he supposed this would do well enough. He'd smell like fishy river anyway- which was still considerably better than grime, blood and sweat. But the water was so cool, so relaxing that, only after he had been soaking for over twenty minutes did he begin to inspect his body, noting all of the wounds he sustained with a frown.
There was a lot more than he remembered, and not all of them from the men trying to kill him. Damn rebels and their futile cause! but then he winced as he looked at the big gouge in his side. That was from the rock, and that was all he remembered about the end of that journey.
Now he awoke under a new one, and it was only then he realized he still should be cautious- even in this wildnerness and after he heard a sound, he tensed and jerked around, body nearly exposed from the water as he hissed, "Who's there?"
