“…Still alive.”

“Oh, thank gods. I thought he was a goner.”

Crow groaned and shifted groggily on the dirt floor of the stable. Opening his eyes, he looked up to see Hazel crouching over him and a concerned look on her face. The herbalist was accompanied by Rikki, who fidgeted anxiously at her side. Forgetting what had happened for a moment, he moved to sit up, but Hazel quickly pressed a hand to his chest. “Whoa there,” she said sternly, forcing him to lay back down. “You lost a lot of blood, so you shouldn’t try to move for a while.”

“What happened?” he murmured dazedly, wincing as he felt a pressure on his right leg. Glancing down, he watched as the herbalist began inspecting a gory looking wound in his thigh. At the sight of it, he recalled falling from the rafters and getting run through by part of the broken beam. He groaned again as she got to work treating the injury.

“I know it hurts, but try not to move,” she instructed as cleaned out the wound. “You’re lucky Raven here found you when she did, or you would have died.”

“You were attacked by Younisians,” Rikki explained, answering his initial question. She averted her gaze and shuffled her feet uncomfortably, “I stopped them from killing you.”

He turned to her as the memories slowly came back to him. “That’s right,” he said thoughtfully. Suddenly another thought came to him and he frowned. “How did you know I was here?”

Rikki shrugged without meeting his gaze, “I heard a commotion and just followed a hunch.”

“Well, I’m glad your hunch was correct,” he smiled weakly, still exhausted from everything that had happened. “Thank you for saving me.”

“It was nothing,” she muttered, blushing softly.

“I’m going to start suturing it now,” Hazel warned him. “Don’t move.”

Crow nodded and closed his eyes, focusing on breathing steadily as she closed up his wound. The needle stung, but he managed not to flinch too much, so it was over quickly. Once she was done stitching him, the herbalist finished the procedure by bandaging his leg. “There,” she said in satisfaction with her own work, moving to stand up again. “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” he looked up at her gratefully. “By the way, what happened with the rest of the battle?”

“Brerra won,” Rikki said. “They drove the Younisians back to their side of the border.”

“And what about the villagers?”

“They’re mostly alright. They took a few losses, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time. Simon and Alistair are out helping them recover as we speak.”

“Good,” he sighed.

“You know,” Hazel spoke up suddenly, crossing her arms. “You should go and help them out, Raven. I can finish taking care of him by myself.” She offered the other woman a friendly smile. “Thanks for your help, but I’ve got it from here.”

“Okay,” Rikki glanced briefly at Crow before heading out of the stables.

Hazel waited until she was gone before turning to him again, “So, are you going to admit you should have listened to me yet?”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “I was wrong, and you were right. Happy?”

“Quite,” she smirked, sitting down at his side and crossing her legs. “Although… I am glad you made it out alive.” She looked away. “It would have been a waste for you to die when we’ve come this far.”

“I’m glad too,” he agreed, ignoring her obstinate tone. “For a second there, I thought those knights were going to kill me.”

“Looks like you learned your lesson,” Hazel dragged her bag over to her side and began repacking it with the medical supplies she had used. “Anyway, you should try to get some more rest before we go back to the camp. I don’t want you collapsing on me in the middle of the woods on our way there.”

“Alright,” he yawned tiredly and closed his eyes, more than happy to take her advice.

--

Crow slept for a while longer before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Hazel standing over him with her bag slung across her back. “It’s almost sundown,” she said softly. “We need to get back to the camp.”

He nodded sleepily and moved to sit up. He was still a little lightheaded, but otherwise felt like he was able to move alright. Pushing off of his arms, he stood up slowly. However, as soon as he was standing upright, he felt a burst of fatigue and stumbled, pressing a hand against the nearest goat pen to steady himself.

“Are you alright?” Hazel frowned, moving to his side.

“I think so,” he blinked, trying to shake off his surprise at what had just happened. “I probably just stood up too fast.” In an attempt to convince himself that it was nothing, he took a careful step away from the pen to balance on his own. In the next moment, the fatigue hit him again and he leaned back into it, breathing heavily from the small effort.

“That doesn’t look good,” Hazel knitted her brow. She stepped closer and lifted two fingers to his neck, pressing down just below his jaw as she had done the last time. After a moment, she lowered her hand and shook her head, “This isn’t from blood loss, Crow.”

“What do you mean?” he felt his blood run cold.

“It’s your heart again. I can barely feel the pulse,” she met his gaze sadly. “This is the illness.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” he protested. “I slept through the entire evening. It’s always gone away when I’ve gotten this much rest.”

“I think you overdid it,” Hazel crossed her arms. “Fighting today and taking a wound that serious must have pushed you over the edge.”

Crow paled as her words reminded him of another detail he had forgotten.

“What?” Hazel frowned, noticing the change in his expression. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”

He shifted his weight. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Just before I blacked out, I noticed that there was blood on my lip.”

The herbalist’s eyes widened, “Are you telling me…”

“Exactly,” he nodded, meeting her gaze again with a grimace. “I think my illness has progressed to the third phase.”