“He’s the hero, I’m not,” Eaman complained as he rubbed the healing ointment into his bruised and bloodied arms.
“He needs your counsel,” Creide said as she took the ointment from Eaman and rubbed it onto his aching back. Eaman pushed his sweaty brown hair away from his eyes and watched Raibeart as he fought in the circle, one against four. Raibeart, the shining one, son of the Great Mother, stood and laughed and defeated all who tried to best him.
“He doesn’t need me,” Eaman said.
Creide leaned close to Eaman’s ear and whispered, “He needs your heart’s wisdom.”