Sturm puts on a strong front

“We can all use rest,” Tanis said.
No one answered. All sank down wearily, catching their breath in quick, sharp gasps. Sturm closed his eyes and leaned against a moss-covered rock. His face was a ghastly shade of grayish white. Blood had matted his long moustaches and caked his hair. The wound was a jagged slash, turning slowly purple. Tanis knew that the knight would die before he said a word of complaint.
“Don’t worry,” Sturm said harshly. “Just give me a moment’s peace.”

Excerpt From Dragons of Autumn Twilight, pg 164
Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman