After a few seconds of cleaning the wound, he let out an uncomfortable laugh, cracking yet another one of his jokes to lighten his own mood. "I'm not sure which is more troubling mentally, cleaning a potentially fatal wound on a friend or killing an unknown number of nameless enemies." When she brought up the magic potions, he muttered something about magic someday making skill and talent obsolete at some point in the near future.
Kayiri was, to say the least, not expecting her to bring up the composite short bow. He stopped in mid-movement, his brow furrowing as he squinted, in deep thought. Memories of the bow's creation process flooded his mind. Finding the wood it was created from, working with the fletcher on both his bow and other projects for days on end, and most importantly, the seventy-five gold mizas he had paid for the weapon. No, he would not let the creature make off with such an important possession. He finally spoke, his voice firm and sure.
"I shall follow the creature. I shall kill the demon with my bare hands if I must to reclaim what was mine." His eyes showed firm confidence, but also the slightest hint of worry. He understood that he was rushing headlong into an enemy's home, out maned and out gunned, probably to his own demise, and probably the demise of his family after that, considering his step-mother could not bear a child. He was child-like in his wish for her support.
If only he could see the absurdity in his own actions, asking a wounded woman he had met only five days ago to come with him on a quite likely fatal mission. "When I do go after it, though, we're going to have to ask my father permission, as I am his sole heir... Hell, I'm going anyway if he says no," Kayiri then spoke honestly, adding the final bit of his sentence after a brief pause.
Continued in: Lost Bow of the Drykas