The stranger rushed over to the ailing Herandyl, asking how he had gotten his wounds. Herandyl's eyes, bleary with pain, gazed at the stranger and studied him more closely. A strong face, this was man who radiated authority. He found himself telling the man his whole story. "I am Herandyl Riolus, of the Aina. I have broken contact with my people and fled, and I flew for two straight days. I fell asleep whilst in the air, and I believe my wing was broken on contact with a tree. That is how I was injured. Nothing more. Nothing less. Now I must ask, are you skilled in healing? For my injuries are beyond my skill." As he spoke he gulped with pain and his voice wavered. A fresh bolt of pain hit him as he shifted a bit while he told his tale, and an involuntary groan was torn from his throat. "Help me... there is no one else... please..."