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@emily-waldorf

Denali, same-o. If you don’t like this, please feel free to change anything.

NOOOO IT WAS SOOOO GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love seeing this side of Qatar! It’s like he’s so kind somewhere deep beneath all the anger and sternness and even he doesn’t realize it but it’s there and auuuugghhhh!!!!! I love it!!!!!!!

Niarok

Niarok paced behind the man supporting Yila and tried to stay awake, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He’d been awake for two days now. Two whole days. He’d pulled a week without sleep before, but that was when he was sitting in his practice, the only physical activity revolving around a bandage or having to move a patient.

This was different. He’d done nothing but carry heavy objects around and run from various enemies that all seemed intent on devouring him.

The weight of exhaustion pulled down on his shoulders, and he allowed himself to slump. It was better to have bad posture and look exhausted than trying to keep up the facade of alertness, which took up all the energy he had left and forced him into lethargy.

Niarok watched his feet trace a path over the stones in the cavern. He fingered his sword. Walking like this was embarrassing, but it also kept him alert enough to fight if the need came.

He sensed someone looking at him, and he raised his head to see the stern man looking at him.

He saw me like this.

Whatever. May as well admit his weakness now, especially if he was going to be stuck with these people for as long as it sounded like he was going to be stuck with them.

“How about a rest?” the stern man shouted to the people far ahead. His deep voice reverberated throughout the cave. Sahar jumped slightly, and Niarok smirked.

Just then, Yila lapsed into unconsciousness. Niarok tensed to catch her if the need arose, and it almost did. Sahar buckled beneath the weight and Yila started to fall, but the man swept her up in his arms as though she were about as heavy as a twelve-year-old. Which probably wasn’t true, but Niarok knew how it felt to lift heavy things with no effort.

Niarok stumbled up beside the man who held his sister, angry at his tired legs for not cooperating. But the legs could wait.

Niarok took one look at Yila’s face and felt deep-seated fear form a knot in his stomach. The castle wasn’t working fast enough. Yila was dying.

Niarok hardened his face and looked straight into the other man’s eyes.

“Set her on the floor next to the wall over there, please.”

The man didn’t flinch, didn’t nod, didn’t change his face, but he carried Yila to the wall, but caught an unspoken message and stood waiting.

Niarok smiled grimly and whipped his backpack off his back, found a bedroll inside, and laid it out on the ground.

The man silently placed Yila on top of it, then walked away.

Niarok stared into her face. She was pale and sweaty, but she shook with chill. Niarok covered her with a blanket and rummaged around until he found his herb sack.

Feverfew, feverfew, where’s the feverfew?

His hand closed on the potent herb and he pulled it from his bag. He mixed it with a small amount of water from Yila’s water skin and mashed it into a wet pulp in his hand, then he pried her mouth open and made her swallow it.

Not that it would do anything for the root problem, but Niarok suspected if he could keep her from dying of fever, the castle would be able to do its work in peace.

Niarok heard a crunch behind him and looked up to see the same man who had carried Yila.

What’s he doing? Though he hated me.

The man stared at him. Niarok stared back.

Niarok raised an eyebrow. “What?”

 

Emily, same again. If you didn’t like something, please change it!!!