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"Allanon doesn't give a damn about anyone. He didn't care about Amberle, and he certainly doesn't care about me."
Allanon knew, of course, that Wil had said those words to mess with Riga.
And yet... when he looked at the shivering boy held upright only by the shackles biting into his wrists, he could see that Wil actually believed them.
They had managed to escape Riga's fort and were making their hasty way to where they could get Wil some proper help.
Wil, who was sitting on the same horse as Allanon so that he could monitor his condition.
Wil, who had started leaning more and more heavily against his chest.
Wil, whose neck had started bleeding again.
Wil, who had sounded so sure that Allanon felt nothing but indifference towards him.
But Wil had been wrong; Allanon did care about him, very much so. Which was why he decided that they needed to make rest as soon as possible and stem the renewed bleeding. Wil was not going to make it back to the healer alive if they didn't.
While Eritrea and Garet were guarding the perimeter and Mareth was refilling their waterskins in a nearby river, Allanon got off his horse, careful never to let go of Wil's shoulder. Once his feet were planted firmly on the ground, he pulled the skinny boy off the sturdy animal. Wil was almost entirely unresponsive, and his long limbs were swaying gently with the movement of Allanon carrying him the few yards until he could lay him down under a tree where it was at least somewhat drier.
The boy was ghostly pale, the blood on his face giving a stark contrast to his unhealthy pallor - his skin looked almost transluscent to Allanon's eyes, and his lips had taken on a blueish color. It tore at Allanon's heart to leave Wil for even the few seconds it took him to get some medical supplies.
As gently as he could, Allanon put a clean cloth over the still oozing gash on the side of Wil's neck and applied pressure. Wil's eyes remained closed, but he flinched and subconsciously tried to get away from the source of the pain. Only, Allanon wouldn't let him. Couldn't let him. Instead, he attempted to soothe Wil by running his free hand through the fuzzy blond hair.
When Wil still did not cease his desperate attempts at shaking off the pressure to his wound and even began whimpering heartbreakingly, Allanon resorted to whispering reassuring words into Wil's ears. What started out as 'you will be fine' and 'you are safe' soon turned into 'I will take care of you' and 'you are important to me, Wil, so very much'.
After a few minutes of this, Wil seemed to calm down a little. And after one last 'you are doing so well' from Allanon, he slowly blinked his sky-blue eyes open. It took worringly long for them to find Allanon's face and for recognition to take hold in them.
With his free hand still caressing Wil's cheek, Allanon leaned even closer and asked, "What do you need, Wil? What can I do to make you feel better right now?"
Wil blinked once, twice, and then minutely nodded his head as if he had come to a conclusion about something. He whispered, "S-so c-cold."
And Allanon understood. After having replaced the pressure from his hand with a big wad of tissue and a bandage wrapped around Wil's neck as tightly as he could without strangling the poor kid, he gently stripped Wil's rain-soaked jacket off and also peeled the shirt away. Then, he opened the front of his own cloak.
When he gathered Wil into his arms this time, the young man tried to cling to him with all the strength he had left.
Allanon carried Wil back to the horse and heaved him up. Grabbing a blanket from one of the bags, Allanon swung himself up onto the horse behind Wil, made sure Wil's back was pressed firmly against his chest, and wrapped the blanket around them both, cocooning them in together.
With Allanon's body heat warming him up, Wil sighed contently and let himself fall back against the druid completely, melting into the provided comfort. And Allanon knew that Wil was going to be fine. He was going to make sure of it.
The end