Murmuring soft, strange words under his breath, Asra pressed his hand over the wound and let his magic curl out like a stream of water slowly building to a rush, sweeping over the wound and seeming to take the pain with it. He felt more than saw the edges of the wound sealing together, and when he finally drew his hand way, there was pink and new flesh there instead of the jagged injury.

Much of the paste had been absorbed by the magic, but he carefully set about cleaning the last of it away as he spoke.

"Muriel is... quiet. He keeps to himself and doesn't like to spend much time around others," he says, and a soft laugh leaves him. "I'm his only friend other than the animals in the forest. He's always been that way but... someone made it worse. Forced him to fight and hurt people when it's so against who he is. Made him into something people feared, until he hid himself away from everything and everyone to escape it."