Two days of hard walking after being robbed, his feet blisters on blisters and no one willing to part with a horse this close to harvest, Chronicler is not yet to Newarre when nightfalls. Despairing of making it to town, he sees a fire and decides farmstead hospitality will have to do.
Except it isn't a farmstead fire. It's a bonfire, and Kvothe is tending it ready with his pig iron: he's hunting scrael. He knows the one Carter killed is not alone.
They startle each other, and Kvothe uses a few choice expletives concerning Chronicler's lack of sense and luck.
We really get to see Kvothe for the first time - with shocking, vibrant green eyes and impossibly red hair. Kvothe is alive! He is being the hero. He saves Chronicler from the scrael, the first of which goes straight for the unprepared man, who gets knocked cold in the process.
When he comes to briefly, it's all over. He's in pain. Kvothe informs him that he may have broken a few ribs saving him, but he has stitched up the cuts from the scrael. When the chronicler tries to get up to help dig a pit to bury them, he goes back down hard, this time out for the count.
Up to here, the chapter was told from Chronicler's POV. It now switches to wrap up from Kvothes. He has also been injured in the fight, but took out all 5 scrael in the process. And he still pushes forward to dig the pit.
My first question was: you know you will need a pit for them, and that you will likely be in better shape to dig it before they attack...why wait until after to dig it?
That aside, we see in this chapter a glimpse of the man they tell stories of. Deep reserves of getting it done and badasserie. He also has wit and humor, and makes an interesting comment about how surprised you'd be at the sorts of things hidden away in children's songs.
This is the second chapter we have with Chronicler, and we still have no age or physical description. We are meant to indentify with him. He is our passport into the world of Kvothe. So no details to block us from making that identification will be given until well after we have already created our own mental image of the man.
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