Locke excused himself from the guards behind him, and looked at Bridget with interest, who was doing the priesthood. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 ｉｎｆｏ

The refugee looked very old, his hair and beard were a little gray, his face was black with some wrinkles, his linen clothes had been torn and turned like strips of cloth, one from east to west, with a strange black silk in the conspicuous place, and a pungent smell on his body.

Bridget was unaffected by the civilian's appearance and continued to deal with it.

What was more shocking was that the refugee's wound was on his calf, which was bloody and covered with a tree branch, and there was a large amount of black dirt on it, which was attached to the wound and stuck around.

Bridget crouched at his wound and asked about the source of his wound as she treated it.

"Sir, where did your wound come from?"

The middle-aged man seemed a little scared and a little unnatural.

Such a young and beautiful crusader officer, her status must be noble, and now she has come to treat her injuries?!

The middle-aged man stammered a little. "Just now... I... Saw a pheasant in the woods .... I wanted to catch it for dinner, but I was too anxious to be pricked by a branch on the side. ”

Locke gently dismounted from his horse and walked behind her to watch her deal with her wounds. The civilian in front of him had already seen Locke, and he was about to open his mouth, but Locke shook his head at him, motioning for him not to speak.

The civilian was a little confused, and his hand began to hold the gauntlet of the cart next to him, trying to stand up, and said as he spoke.

"Honorable Lord, I don't think I need you to treat my wounds."

"How?! If you don't clean this wound, you won't be able to save your leg by then! Bridget glared at him, "Don't you want your legs?" Sit down honestly! ”

Then she grabbed his leg and pulled out a delicate little water bottle from his body, poured out the water inside, and washed the dirt from his wound.

The middle-aged man looked at Locke and became even more frightened.

Locke smiled at him and motioned for him not to move. Seeing this, the middle-aged people were a little relieved and not at a loss.

"Maybe, probably, maybe it hurts. You have to hold back, it'll be fine for a while. Bridget looked up and looked at the refugees in front of her with a big grin. This is a very common injury for us soldiers, although you are not a soldier. But you're a man, and this pain is okay for you! ”

The refugee just said one word, "Okay..."

Yes!!!

Then he screamed, and it turned out that Brigitte took advantage of his distraction and pulled out the branch from his wound at once. The middle-aged man's painful face twitched together.

Bridget quickly stretched out her hands in front of her chest, and her mouth was full of muttering, and a golden light quickly enveloped his wound, and the bleeding part of his wound began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye. The middle-aged man stopped calling, and he tried to reach the place where the wound was located.

"It's too itchy, my lordship, are you alright? I can't take it anymore! I want to catch it. The middle-aged man asked anxiously.

In less than ten, the wound had begun to scar, and the middle-aged man began to reach out and scratch it.

"Don't move! Sir, although your injuries have recovered with the help of the Light, you had better not move there, bear with me, and soon the itch will not be there. Don't use that leg too hard for a few days and you'll be fully recovered in a few days. In addition, if possible, take a more nutritious supplement. ”

Bridget stopped the middle-aged man's movements and admonished. In the end, she shook her head, took out some roasted meat from her body and handed it to the middle-aged man.

And the middle-aged man looked at Bridget in front of her, and then at Locke behind her, but he didn't dare to pick it up.

"Take it, sir. Our Bridt, herald, wants you to recover from your injuries. Locke couldn't help but say.

"Hey! Didn't anyone tell you that it was rude to do so? Britsett was still dealing with the wounds of the civilians, "Maybe when we camp at night, we need to talk about it." ”

Locke's heart throbbed when he said this.

The middle-aged man bowed to the two of them, and then walked forward with the group on the side, and many of the later refugees behind them looked at them and said some words of blessing in their mouths.

The civilians in the carts moved much faster, and after dark they arrived at the rudimentary camp prepared by the vanguard.

Locke assigned the soldiers to distribute the surplus food to the civilians, and divided the soldiers' guard area. Since these civilians choose to follow them, they can't let them lose their lives in vain, right?

Now, the Forsaken around Lordaeron are too active to be able to capture a few civilians from them.

In the evening, Bridget arrives at Locke's tent to discuss with Locke the never-ending topic of the day. Finally left there at dawn.

※※※

In the woods beside the main road, there is a crooked-necked tree, which is facing the marching refugee procession, and some dead branches and leaves on it are swaying with the breeze, giving people a bleak feeling.

A scavenger flew up to Crooked Neck, pecked at its feathers with its beak for a moment, and then it jumped on the trunk of the tree and stood on the trunk of the Crooked Neck tree, its scarlet eyes looking at the convoy of people passing below, looking for its own food.

From time to time, its head swayed, staring at the crowd below, as if something was controlling it, until the team in front of it was out of its field of vision, and it flew high above the Tirisfal glades.

It flew forward with the long procession, circling a few times from time to time, until it reached Brill and then turned and flew southwest. It crossed the low hills to the ruined ruins of Lordaeron, screamed, spun around a few times, saw a man in a black cloak and cover, and fell towards him.

Below, the black-cloaked man stretched out his arm, and the scavenging bird landed on his arm with its wings.

Then the scavenger cooed and flapped its wings.

"See, see, Hawkeye, don't worry." The man in the black cloak said in a low, slow voice, and he reached out his hand to caress the scavenging bird's wings, soothing it. His bare arms and arms seemed to have no flesh and blood, and the skin was tightly clinging to the bones, and some parts had no flesh or skin, revealing the white bones.

"Human, human, I have to say that your appearance is too inopportune, I met you on my last mission. And the Royal Society of Pharmacists is still short of test products. The man in the hood lowered his head and whispered.

"Hawkeye, you're hungry. Come on, I'm going to get you something to eat. The man in the robe stroked the scavenger's wings slowly and quietly, his deep voice echoing through the ruins.

"Let's go! Let's go report this to the pharmacists. "The man in the hood stooped down toward the ruined palace, his arm of the food bird called Hawkeye' screaming.

"As for the Queen, there will be guys faster than us who will report this to the Queen."

The Man in Hood slowly walked towards the palace in the distance, surrounded by countless armoured and well-armed Forsaken soldiers. They stand guard over the ruins, guarding the lands that belong to their forsaken, and anyone who appears there will be captured by them.

What happened to me, you ask?

The pharmacists of the Royal Society of Pharmacists will be delighted to have you here.