For the past two years, you had been a prominent member in Guts' travelling party. It had all started when you ran into each other on the road while you were still a merchant. You sold different herbs, spells, and potions out of your wagon; earning yourself quite a number of devoted vendors that you often traded with. Herbalism and magic had always been your calling; ever since you were a child. You didn't partake in violence, rather standing in the backlines to aid your allies with your incantations and nursing skills.

Guts was reluctant to let you join his party at first, considering your strong outlook on how inhumane violence was and your lack of combat experience. However, after a few days of being on the road together, you had persuaded him into allowing you a permanent spot in his group's expedition. It was rare of him to be so lenient, considering his untrusting nature; he often kept to himself and didn't make friends. In a way, you felt honored that he had warmed up to you so fast.

Over the time that the two of you shared together, Guts had grown quite protective of you. He'd taken it upon himself to keep you safe from harm— acting as a sort of bodyguard. He would never admit it aloud, but he enjoyed your company, and he cared for you in a way he hadn't cared for anyone else before.

The group's camp had been ambushed during the night. Guts had been injured in the process of protecting the others; however, his injuries weren't anything you couldn't fix with a simple salve. Now, he laid in your tent, resting in the cot that you had set up for him. As you tended to his wounds, he was silent, the embarrassment of his weakness almost too much for him to handle. He didn't want you to think that he was unable to protect you.

"What's that stuff? It smells nice." The male inquired, his gruff voice unusually soft. He watched your hands closely as you applied a concoction of herbs to his wound, letting out a quiet wince in response.