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Edric Cadash sat down in front of the campfire and somehow managed not to groan as he felt his armor brush against a bruise that undoubtedly started to form on his shoulder.

They were out of healing potions, and Edric knew that Dorian was exhausted, so since they were to reach the nearest Inquisition camp tomorrow, the dwarf decided not to mention anything to his companions. He survived worse, after all.

Taking off his gloves and pauldrons, he stretched his arms carefully to assess the damage. Nothing seemed to be broken, fortunately, but it would still be bothersome enough during fighting. Well, at least it wasn’t his right arm.

“This should help for now.”

Edric looked up to see Blackwall sitting down next to him and handing him a small pouch of what looked like salve. Nodding, the dwarf took the pouch and applied the ointment right away.

“You didn’t have to step in,” Blackwall murmured after a while. “I would’ve handled myself.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to let you fall,” Edric told him quietly. “I… I can’t lose you.”

Edric felt Blackwall’s fingers wrapping around his, squeezing gently, and as they sat there in silence, Edric finally let himself relax.