The Friendship

Her fingers crossed tough scars as she massaged the underlying knotted muscles. The oil smelled of cloves and lavender, soothing both of their minds. His clothes lay loosely piled aside the bedroll, her case of herbs and oils was open nearby. She had never done this for a friend; she had learned it as a cover for her previous life. Dim light permeating the tent played across his muscled back as the flap rippled with the wind. A soft snore brought a grin to her face as she realized Argen had fallen asleep. It was good to have him back.