A rather foul word slipped from her lips in a soft mutter. It was not the sort of thing that a polite goddess should say, let alone know, but it was involuntary. Sigyn knew that she'd lost track of where the quartet had been dragging her, but she didn't think she'd lost her bearings that badly. But there was no doubt that Loki knew where they were, he'd had his camp set up here, so he'd be certain. Besides, he went on to tell her about a nearby village, so that settled that.
A nearby village, and another a bit further that held the home of his ex-wife. Was that where he'd been going? Sigyn felt a sort of acidy churning in her stomach that she blamed on the recent altercation with the jotun and the wound she was currently treating. It had nothing to do with the idea of Loki seeing Angrboda. And she only knew that name because of the gossip that swirled around Asgard, not because she was paying any more attention to what people said about Loki than she had before. Besides, his ex wasn't important right then. There were other things to worry about.
Once she was sure he had a grasp on the cloth staunching the flow of blood, Sigyn moved back to his pack, thankful that Loki was a self-sufficient sort. She wasn't sure how many men would have a needle and thread in their packs when they were out traipsing the earth. Truthfully, she didn't think many men that she knew had the knowledge that they could fix their own clothing. They all seemed to think that was a female job. At least what she'd seen so far of them suggested that. But Loki wasn't typical in any sense of the word.
When she knelt beside him again, she put her hand over his and gently tugged so that she could see the wound. It was still seeping blood, but it was sluggish now, not flowing freely. To distract him, and herself, from the fact that she was about to push a sharp needle through his flesh, she started talking. “I'm glad they're superstitious, because whether or not they'd normally leave us alone, Loki... I left four of them pretty much face down in the mud back there. And you're here with a wound in your leg, and an arrow over there that'd match the one in Squashnose's quiver. It wouldn't take anybody too long to figure out what had happened, and do you want to trust that they'll be alright with us, well me and you by association, having attacked some of their own? I don't think most people are that forgiving.”
While she spoke, she cleaned the area around the wound as much as she could, and used a little more pressure to get the bleeding to a near stop. It was probably as good as it was going to get at the moment. She took a breath, then warned him. “I'm sorry, Loki, but I'm going to sew this up now. I'll be as quick as I can, and it'll go much faster if you hold as still as possible. If it helps, you can yell at me for being stuck up or uppity or having a chip on my shoulder.”
And then she began a necessary task that she didn't truly want to do. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Loki.