He fell asleep quickly, though it was a restless sleep. He mumbled the others’ names worriedly. He jerked like he was still running from the hellhounds. I was able to push him back into place each time, but as soon as my hands left his body so did the calm. I tied him down before he threw himself out of the tree.
Finally subdued, I took a closer look at his ankle. It was starting to fester. Blood and pus were bubbling out and it smelled faintly of rot. The bite may have been shallow but a hellhound’s saliva is a fast-acting poison. If left untreated, even a bite this small will kill him by morning.
I had not told him for fear he would panic. And I could fix it. I pulled out a tiny bag of ground unicorn horn. The wound would probably heal with only a pinch, but I used two for good measure.
He stirred as I rubbed it in. I froze. His eyes fluttered open for a moment. His deep brown gaze, clouded with sleepiness but not pain, went straight to mine, and he gave a lazy grin with only the right side of his mouth tilting up, barely flashing his teeth. Then with a small sigh, he dropped back into unconsciousness.
Memory took me.
We were lying on the ground on a soft bed of autumn leaves. He was halfway between consciousness and dreams. I was fully awake because part of me still believed this would disappear if I closed my eyes. I watched him, entertained by his sleepy babbling.
“It followed me the rest of the day. Mother tried to get rid of it, but it kept pushing its way into the tent,” he told me of the wildcat that had declared itself his ally.
I giggled. I had seen it sneak under the tent after it had given up walking through the front. “He is determined.”
“I told Mother she should let it stay. Now she has two fishers.” His voice got quieter and quieter until the last word could only just be caught. His eyes were past drooping, now just occasionally fluttering in half-hearted attempts to stay awake with me. The right side of his mouth tilted up in that familiar grin and with one final breathy sigh, dreams won.
I came back to the present. To David. I watched him, but he never did it again.
It did not matter. I had seen it.
What are you feeling, Cearo? Feel it while he is asleep, while no one can see you.
Astounded. This was real. I was not dreaming. Many would think me insane, but I knew this was no hallucination. My mind was not kind enough to supply this.
Elated. I had been right. It was him. A version of him anyway. Maybe he would remember. Maybe it would go the same way.
Terrified. Maybe it would go the same way. My chest seized and I had to fight viciously to push those other memories back to their dark corner.