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"I can hear you thinking."
Auria's voice is quiet from the hour, and muffled further from inside her tent.
Scout grunted in response. His body was still tense, curled up on his bedroll. He doubted he would sleep anymore tonight. The attack on their camp was too much and everything from the other night just came rushing back in vivid detail because of it.
He heard Auria moving, the light brushing of her tent flap opening. Then there was a warm hand on his arm. He grabbed his sister's hand, and they squeezed each other's fingers until they were numb.
They didn't tell each other things would be okay, that they would find their parents and siblings alive. Chances of that happening at this point were slim to none, and they knew it.
So instead, they would hold onto each other with everything they have.
---
*Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-*
Scout didn't know if he wanted to scream or throw up. Probably both.
His shoulder throbbed where the gods damned lycanthrope bit him.
How could he have been so stupid? He knew better. He shouldn't have panicked. Now everything was-
Scout could feel his friends pressing in closer, worried, checking in on him, asking him what that creature was and what it wanted. How was he going to explain this one? His chest felt tight and he couldn't breathe as he watched between the bodies of his friends as the corpse melted and molted grotesquely back into its human form.
*Fuck.*
---
Scout woke with a slight whimper. His throat ached something terrible, and it took him a few seconds to remember why. Theo had saved him, multiple times over and from a fate he wouldn't wish on anyone. Thankfully none of his friends were Foxclaw Scouts, because surely they would not have been able to try and cure his previous affliction.
The sounds of the camp were muffled slightly from the inside of the tent. He could hear someone moving around next to him. Cracking his eyes open he watched Theo moving around, methodically adding herbs to a kettle. Scout recognized mint and catnip. Instead of watching more he decided to rest his eyes for a few more minutes.
Eventually there was a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Scout blinked himself awake. He sat up enough to take the warm cup offered to him with a grunt in thanks. Sipping on the tea soothed his throat almost immediately. Scout finished the cup in silence, feeling completely unlike himself.
Despite that, he forced himself to sit up, ignoring the soreness in his abdomen. He scooted himself over to where Theo was kneeling, packing up his things, and wrapped his arms around his friend.
"Thanks, Theo," Scout said, voice scratchy and sounding funny from the way his cheek was smashed against the taller boy's shoulder. *Thanks* wasn't nearly enough to cover what Scout felt like he owed Theo for, but it was all he could manage at the moment.
He felt Theo's arms come up to hug him back, and Scout tightened his own hold to try and relay exactly how grateful he was for his friend. There was a shake from Theo that could have been a nod or something else, but Scout was too off-kilter to think about it too hard.
Eventually they separated, packing up the things inside the tent before finally braving the light of day.
---
Scout couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or throw up. *Hit something* had been on that list but he'd done that already with that stupid fucking hobgoblin and the tree he bruised his knuckles on.
Once things had calmed down Scout had slipped away to be alone. He was too jittery and bordering on frantic to keep his cool. The last thing he wanted was to make Auria or any of the boys worry about it. Outside, alone among the trees, maybe he could manage to clear his head. Maybe.
*You can join the rest of your family and friends as slaves.*
The hobgoblin's voice was still ringing in his head, filling him with a hope he wished he didn't have. If it turned out to be a lie that any of their people were still alive it was going to crush him.
Scout stared at the ground between his legs, fingers pressed against his scalp and pushing his hair back, the dry dirt greedily soaking up the tears sliding off his cheeks. Crying it was, then, which was probably a whole lot better than vomiting. He'd had enough of vomiting for the rest of his life.
---
The Lost (chaotic evil, Wisdom) is the card of emptiness and loss of identity. The bodak shown is forever mad, lost in a world of lunatics, insane asylums, and mass killers. For those under its influence, the world makes no sense. It evokes times where all is babble, as when meeting someone who speaks only in another tongue. Misaligned, The Lost can indicate clarity of mind under duress.
*”The Lost!”*
The old witch’s voice still echoed in Scout’s head. He’d already been silently questioning everything, and the card that was pulled from the old Harrow deck shook him to his core. Truly, the only time he understood anything was when his rapier was in his hand and he was drenched in blood.
At least, until the hobgoblin lieutenant nearly killed him.
Now he was questioning everything again.
If he wasn’t good on the battlefield, what was he good at? How would he save whoever was still alive in Phaendar? How would he be helpful to his teammates? Their band of refugees?
He had to be better, but he didn’t know how.
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