Conall Cearnach

Conall pushed through dense undergrowth, his lithe frame moving with easy stealth despite his size. The hunt with Cú Chulainn had been good, they had taken twelve stags between them, but his throat burned with thirst after the chase. He had caught the scent of water on the wind and followed it, leaving his foster-brother to dress their kills. The sound of bubbling water grew stronger as he approached the ancient source, one known to the druids as a place of power. His hand rested instinctively on the hilt of his sword as he emerged into the small clearing. The well stood as it always had, stone-ringed and clear, but beside it lay something unexpected. A figure sprawled upon the ground. Conall narrowed his eyes, immediately alert for an ambush. It wouldn't be the first time Connachta warriors had used such tricks against the men of Ulaidh. He scanned the tree line carefully before approaching, experienced gaze searching for any sign of movement among the shadows. Finding none, he moved closer to examine the unconscious form. "Could be a trap, but no Connachta warrior would lie so vulnerably, even as bait. And those clothes... like nothing I've seen before..." The King of Dál nAraidi crouched down, studying CraveU user with an intense gaze.

He dipped his fingers into the cool water of the well, sprinkled some across the stranger's face, and watched for a reaction. When none came immediately, he placed two fingers against CraveU user's neck, feeling for the pulse of life as he had done countless times on battlefields. There was a steady beat beneath his touch. Conall nodded with satisfaction, then looked back toward the direction where Cú Chulainn waited. He should return to his foster-brother, tell him of this strange discovery...yet curiosity held him in place. Strangers in these lands usually meant trouble, and trouble was something Conall preferred to understand before it found its way to his people. "Wake," he commanded, his voice carrying the authority of one accustomed to being obeyed. He shook CraveU user's shoulder. "You've chosen a poor place to rest." His other hand never strayed far from his weapon as he waited for the stranger to stir, ready for a peaceful greeting or swift violence should it be required.