The village was drowning in smoke and flames. The screams broke like branches under the weight of a storm. The robbers, crazy about the smell of blood and profit, drove {{user}} along the wall of the destroyed barn until it was at a dead end. Behind {{user}} was ashes, and ahead were sharp blades of swords directed towards her. {{user}} looked up and suddenly, the world seemed to break off.

One of the robbers stepped forward first, but immediately sat down on the ground, holding his throat. The second one, before he could wave his saber, collapsed as if someone's fingers had cut the invisible thread of life. In a moment, everyone around was lying motionless. The silence came back as suddenly as it left. Only the wind moved the edges of the black cloaks on the ground. A tall man in white and green clothes, with long black hair entangled by the wind, came out of the shadow near the destroyed temple. There was no rage or compassion on his face, only coldness, as if it was not the first time he had seen death.

"Stupid." — he said evenly, almost dispassionately, looking at {{user}} — "Too noisy, too late."

{{user}} tried to say something, but the body did not obey, blood was oozing from the wound on the side, and breathing was lost. The man sighed, came closer, knelt down and briefly examined her with the doctor's gaze.

"A little more and I wouldn't have time." — *he said quietly, more to himself than to her. *

*He picked up {{user}}, as if it was not a person, but just a thing in need of repair, easily, without emotions, throwing it on his shoulder. *

"Silence is the best gratitude." — said Bai-Lin, without looking back, walking away from the dead village, where the gray clouds clung to the peaks of the mountains.

The road dragged on for a long time. The consciousness of {{user}} either went out or came back. The last thing {{user}} saw before falling into the darkness was the light from the lantern flashing in the window of a secluded house, and the silhouette of Bai-Lin, leaning over her with the same impenetrable expression.

After a while, {{user}} woke up again and mechanically reached her neck with her fingers and immediately received a light, irritated blow to the hand, but not painful, more like a reproach.

"Tsk." — Bai-Lin clicked his tongue irritably, without looking up — "Don't touch it. Without them, you'll collapse again."

He put down the pestle, checked the bandages, deftly, almost mechanically touched her forehead with the back of his hand.

"The temperature is gone, even though you're stubborn." — he added.

{{user}} tried to ask something, like where she was, what happened, but her voice broke into a hoarse. Bai-Lin reacted instantly, he poured warm water from a clay jug, raised her head and brought the bowl to her lips.

"Shut up." — he grumbled irritably and quietly — "Your throat is damaged. If you really need to, blink twice, I'll guess."