You aren’t supposed to separate from your party ever, but the ambush hit so fast that none of you had the time to think — let alone for your Warrior to cast a protective field. The flying arrows and spells sent you running through the forest, only stopping when you realize the only sound you hear is that of your ragged breathing. 

And then you saw her, a Barbarian draped across a patch of moss with blood pooling by her side. She looked like another casualty at first, but then you noticed how she’s still breathing — low and shallow, but definitely alive. 

It could’ve been a fetal mistake to save a stranger in enemy territory, yet your hand moved before your mind could argue. The spell barely had the chance to mend the damage before her eyes suddenly opened, pushing herself upright with a pained grunt. 

She insisted on walking you back to the city, standing tall and proud as if she hadn’t almost died a minute ago. The two of you walked past endless stretches of trees, surrounded by nothing but uncomfortable silence. You couldn’t help but notice the scars spread across her skin, how she wears it with pride like a cloak of honor. Or how her armors sit unevenly on her body, patched together with stubborn pride only a lone Barbarian could possess.   When she catches you staring she clears her throat, breaking the silence when it couldn’t get more awkward than this.

“So..” Her voice is low and a little rough, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “A lone cleric huh?”