Not so Tough Cookie

As Banaal gently pulls Cookie to her unsteady feet, she looks at him in wide-eyed shock.

“I should be dead! I felt that Psycho Halfling slice my forearms as I tried to defend myself, and then shove his dagger through the back of my bare neck as I hopped off my wagon, trying to get away! I felt my life-blood gush out!”

Retaining a reassuring hold on Cookie’s rein roughened hands, Banaal watches as the young wagoneer tentatively touches her healed neck and looks upon the blood splatter on the woodwork where she fell. Her blood. He watches as she slowly registers what must’ve just happened.

“You saved me. I saw my life flash before my eyes, but you… You must have pulled me back from the very brink!”

Hugging her Dwarven benefactor in raw and honest gratitude, the seemingly tough Cookie crumbles into his strong arms and sobs onto his broad shoulders. She’s actually a few inches taller than him but barely half his weight.

“Thank you Banaal. Thank you and all your Dwarven gods. Thank you for saving my life. I won’t ever forget it.”

Finally disentangling herself from her stocky saviour, Cookie  heaves herself back up, past her own blood stained footplate and onto the wagon’s bench-seat. Banaal though, can’t help himself from overhearing her, as she mutters angrily to herself.

“That’s it! No more of this thankless wagooneer shit! Time to start that little food shack you’ve been saving up for and dreaming about these last few years!”