Broken hands had never stopped her from punching anyone or anything in the face. Though, when seeing the Weakling not even a day after having received his letter, angered her beyond words. But seeing the man seemingly unharmed and safe relieved her of a weight she had been all too aware of.
That hadn't stopped her from kicking him in the shins viciously once he was close enough. It had been hard enough to bruise and the howl of pain (and surprise she guessed) had been satisfying. Always jumping her unexpectedly was really getting tiresome. As if she didn't have enough things that just dropped out of her control. However, the guilt returned as swiftly as it had left her, for she had not desired to find him back only to injure him again, or to insult the man either.
For he acted more of a man now. No longer the lanky and bumbling farmhand she had met with the Lass. He stood tall now, his clothes definitely made of a better quality. The Weakling had found some kind of confidence somewhere, a certain strength now in his stance and shoulders. However, he still lacked the bulk a strong man would have, his frame still too slight for her to even consider he might have some ability to beat anyone in a fight.
The tenderness that came with the reunion had frankly said, shaken her. She had not been aware she was capable of such, outside of when treating her and the Golug-Lover's horses. The first hug she experienced and could remember had been odd, strange and putting every single one of her instincts to keep everyone at safe arm's length distance in a tizzy. But the warmth had not been unwelcome, no matter how much she scolded herself for having such a weak disposition for desiring comfort.
However...it had not stopped her from head butting the man several times throughout their conversation of which she remembered little but an assurance that he would explain himself to her companions. And a threat to chain him to her if he ever dared to make her go through all of that again. While she had grown fond enough of the Golug-Lover, she could have done without having to endure all that golug sensibilities that rhe insisted upon being followed.
However, despite the reassurance that the Weakling wasn't going to disappear soon once they separated for the evening, the Savage Woman still did not feel at complete peace. Because the feeling of being lost still lingered.
What was she to do now? Just leave the Golug-Lover? She could not, despite still being angry at him. He was now part of something she could not define yet, but losing complete track of him would no doubt lead her to the same sleepless nights as she had with the Weakling. And the little foreigner, so small, she wouldn't mind knowing more of her stories either. But aside from getting attached to people, was she going to return hunting heads for coin? The idea did not sit entirely well with her any longer. She couldn't see herself being utterly alone on the road anymore - she covered it up by having sworn to remain attached to the hip to the Weakling to keep him out of trouble, but she knew better. It was for her own sake, and that was a thought she was not quite sure what to think of.
'Still tired, are we? Do what you want, whelp, I won't be there to pick you up when the wargs are released. But I'll sure as hell make them pay for being such a weakling.'
The next morning, Assaj was storming off on her own, into the wilds that surrounded the north of Esteldin...
