Days of searching had turned up nothing. Disappointment could be felt keenly by all those dedicated to the search, even to the large barbarian as he trudged through the sand. Something about the waste of the desert and howl of the wind reminded him of the tundra in the cold lands to which he was more accustomed. Fredric had left Trollsbane periodically to search the desert for Leon ever since they had not found him after the battle. Always carrying bottles of water and food, enough for a prolonged search and extra in case he found the lost Captain. The winds were harsh and warm, blowing sand into his light clothing and face. After checking the mountain face and crags within for the third time that day he had decided that it was time for a rest. Passing the rotworm ruins, he noticed a slight glimmer coming from the north and started to head in that direction. As he grew closer to the glimmer, a distinct form began to take shape on the ground, near the edge of a lake. At first it looked more like a fallen log, but as the wind subsided and he got closer, Fredric realized it was a man. His breath caught in his chest and he mumbled out loud"Tha had betteh be ye lad." Taking off at a sprint he came next to the unconscious form. A grin spread to his lips as he saw three dead scorpions near the man. Shaking his head at the sight, Fredric sat near him and pulled out a fresh bottle of water (courtesy of a not so happy Drow Patriarch Leon and himself had slain). Along with the water, he removed a small bottle from the bag. With a practiced eye, he looked over the bruises and cuts and smeared some of the liquid on the worst of them. Leon stirred at the increased pressure on his wounds, and also the tingling sensation that accompanied the liquid. Fred spoke in a soft and deep voice
"Ye are strong 'nough ta kill scorpions, then yer strong 'nough ta take some tendin ta, hold still ye lil bugger."
With the squirming subsiding Fredric cleaned and dressed the wounds as best as his ability would allow. With that done the large man leaned over the over the semi-conscious lad and tilts his head, noticing sweat on Leon's brow. While distracted, one of Leon's arms shoots out, the fist clipping Fred's chin. Leon let out a groan and a small laugh, his voice hoarse
With a small smile he slipped once more into unconsciousness. Fred rubbed his jaw and merely shook his head, allowing a grin to find its way onto his lips as well. Leon was running a fever, without proper nourishment or enough water for days, along with the wounds he had received from his lone stand against the dragon, Fred was surprised he had had the strength to move at all. Even with the bandages, ointment, small amounts of food, and water that Leon managed to get down, recovery was slow. Most of the time Leon remained unconscious or slipped in and out due to his high fever. Time seemed to have no meaning to Fred as he tended the man. One particular night, as the moon began to illuminate the desert to the south with an eerie soft glow, Leon stirred and opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings.