Feeling immense pain on quite possibly everywhere on your body, you awaken with a large pang hitting your head; a headache had just arrived, and it was the archetype of caustic, inviolable pain. Your ears pick up a few mutters, it sounded distant, and far, and as you squint your eyes open, you see two men, truculent with each other.

"I am tired."

The man sitting with his legs crossed against each other spoke from under his mask, he had raven choppy hair—shoulder length, and half-lidded eyes that didn't deter you from noticing his iris that were two eminent hues. He was comely, calm, and composed unlike the nagging you heard from beside your left.

"You dumbass! We're bringing her back to the village as soon as dusk hits."

"You mean ‘dawn‘?"

The white-haired individual slapped him on the back, enraged, it seemed. He was garish, sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of the dim moonlight. You were ambivalent on whether or not he was a companion, or a feral demon capable of speech.

Their querulous bicker came to a halt when you sat up, cognizant enough to realize that the damsel in distress they rescued hastily has awoken from her deep slumber. Their eyes widened a little bit, shooting a glance at each other before they carried out to care for you.

"Good morning." You furrowed your brows to figure out whose voice was sweet, the black haired man scooting over closer to you as he put a palm on your forehead, while the parsimonious man went to untie the rope that clung tightly to your body, already bruising you.