BY THE TIME they reached their shelter, Doom could barely stay on his feet. He watched Tiwaz through pain-hazed eyes as she jumped up a tree to put the small deer then the boar on a branch. Alighting on the ground, she changed shape and held the canvas aside. “The fire is out,” he said distractedly as he leaned against the rock wall of their shelter and slid down to sit.

“Then I will relight it,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Rest. You are too injured.”

“But you don’t have much practice,” he began, falling silent at the hard look she fixed on him. He managed a smile and sat back, staying silent. Though she failed repeatedly, she kept trying with focused determination until eventually a fire crackled in the fire ring. She turned back to examine his injuries after slipping her trousers and tunic back on.

He started to speak, but she held up one hand to silence him. “I know what needs to be done. The clothing is not good for much anymore.” She took out her knife and began cutting the fabric above his elbows and below his knees. He hissed as she pulled the tattered cloth free of the gashes and lacerations the boars had inflicted. As she very carefully pulled his gloves and boots off, he hit his head on the rock in reaction to the pain. The new pain distracted him from her ministrations.

With infinite care and patience, she thoroughly cleaned the wounds, removing any foreign matter from them. She slathered the injuries with healing salve and wrapped them. He leaned back watching her work. “You have a gentle touch,” he murmured. “Perhaps you should consider becoming a healer.”

She almost smiled, shaking her head as she picked up the tatters of fabric and got to her feet. “No. I am no healer.”

“Could have fooled me.” He held up his hands, flexing them experimentally. The bandages moved with him but stayed in place. “You’re really good at this, Ti.”

“Thank you.” She did not look at him, hesitating at the canvas door. “I had a good teacher.”

“You did? Who?” he asked, wracking his brain for who it could have been. He felt as though a tree hit him when she replied.

“You.” She ducked out before he could respond.

He cursed under his breath, the memories of their life in slavery flooding back and the innumerable times he had to tend to her grievous wounds. “Of course you would have learned,” he muttered to himself. With a sigh, he forced himself to sit up, reaching for the small stew pot.

“Don’t touch it!” The gromek blinked, and could not help but grin when she added, “I will know if you touch it. So don’t. Rest.” He sat back to wait. In too much pain to fall asleep, he sat back, staring at the flames. When she returned with the washed tatters of fabric and several large pieces of fresh venison, he looked up at her.

“I am so sorry,” he said fervently. She looked at him blankly, confused. “Now I understand why you had been so irritable since you were able to stay conscious after you were hurt badly. I never realized how maddening it must be for you to do nothing while I took care of everything before. I know I should just rest to give everything a chance to knit closed, but it is making me crazy not doing anything.”

“I never understood how worried you must have been when I was hurt or when I would fight.” She kept her eyes fixed on cutting up some of the meat for the stew pot and laying strips on a smooth, flat stone she moved closer to the heat. “I do not know what I would have done if you were hurt more. Or worse.” She stopped, closing her eyes and clenching her fists against her thighs. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight ever again because I am afraid of what might happen if I am not there.”

“Ti,” he called in a soft voice, holding his arm out. She immediately moved to his side, curling against him as he put his arm around her. “There has always been the chance something could happen to one of us.”

“I know,” she replied in a small voice. “But when we were still slaves, I always knew it would have been Alimar’s fault. We were helpless. Now, anything could happen. Some of it things we could guard against. If I just had been with you—”

He hushed her, stroking her back. “We both might have been killed. You don’t have the knowledge of how to fight in your panther form. It was those dragons that saved us.” He looked down at her. “Why did those northern forest dragons help us? I heard about them, but I’ve never seen their kind before.”

“The larger one insisted they owed a debt to me. When I was refilling the water skins, I heard griliks attacking their nest.” She closed her eyes, turning her face against his chest. “It was not as if the griliks were killing them for food. They just tossed the hatchlings around. For fun. There was one still alive. I couldn’t allow a youngling to suffer. But I could only save one dragonet.” He tightened his arm around her in reassurance. “I am glad they helped, but there was no debt. How could I ask for anything? I failed to save the others. So many helpless younglings dead before they could live.”

“If not for you, there wouldn’t even be that one.” She sighed, nodding, though still unhappy. She moved to turn the cooking meat and stir the stew. He narrowed his eyes, studying her profile as she rubbed the back of her hand across her brow. “Are you all right? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine,” she replied with a hint of impatience, shaking her head and brushing strands of hair out of her eyes.

“No, you’re not.” He sat forward, resting his arms on his knees as he tried to catch her eyes with his. “You are pushing yourself too hard. You used up your reserves with all the close calls you’ve had to recover from and you’ve not had the chance to get back to normal.” He reached towards the food. “Let me help— Ow! Hey!” He shook his hand when she smacked it away.

Her green eyes were stern. “I am only tired, and most of my wounds are healed. What is not yet healed, I can work around.” She put her hand atop his, her demeanor deeply apologetic for striking him. “I understand why you want me to recover completely, as much as I want you to recover completely.

“But we don’t have that option. Right now, you are the one who needs to rest and heal. When your wounds have closed and walking won’t risk them reopening, we will need to start traveling again.” She glanced upwards at the ominous rumbling in the sky. “If the weather is going to always be this miserable, we need to find shelter better than this.”

Reluctantly, Doom subsided and leaned back against the rock again. “You are right. You are a masochist, but you are right.” He sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to relax and suppress the pain as she tended the fire and food. “I wish you weren’t.”

“I know. Me, too.”