"Rescue"- Gurjin, Naia
There is no time to talk in the castle- they creep in dead silence until the moment they can run. Gurjin hangs between her and Kylan, half-conscious dead weight, but somehow- impossibly- they make it. Naia keeps her mind devoid of any thought or worry beyond hoping that Kylan can keep up, until they finally plunge deep enough into the trees to safely stop.
The moment they do, Gurjin’s knees buckle so quickly they barely manage to catch him.
She finds the wounds later, after Kylan has started a fire and begun boiling a tea with every healing or strengthening herb he can think of. She prods, devoid of shyness or modesty with one she has known since birth, then strips away the layers of armor and fabric. When she pushes aside the messy mass of his hair, she sucks in a gasp.
“Wha-”
Gurjin laughs weakly. At least he’s aware enough to laugh, even if the sound of it makes her want to scream or cry. They haven’t seen each other in nearly a full trine- this is not the reunion she had pictured. “......Tell you...later…” he manages. With another chuckle that deteriorates into a cough, he murmurs, “........Was...worth…..it.”
The punctures are uglier than she’s ever seen from an animal, and already beginning to darken and fester from neglect. They will have to work quickly to arrest the decay, and to get him strong enough to jump back into the fray. But for now, she wraps her arms around him gingerly, cheek pressed into his hair, holding him the way their mother used to hold them. Her whisper is low, comforting, but with an undercurrent of deadly anger.
“They will pay. I swear.”