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A gentle shuffling from Torchbearer’s tent door was enough to alert him that his post-Clancy spiral has been interrupted, as usual, by Calloway. The smell of a freshly-brewn tea hit his nostrils like a truck.
Wordlessly stirring from his twisted position, Torchbearer grasped the drink with urgency to his grip. It was the same each time: honey and a mash of herbs he never inquired the names of. The boy behind him began to scramble through the mess scattered on the tent floor, scooping them into the rucksack that lay beside them.
Tea calmed him down. Despite his facade of relentless hope towards the Banditos who didn’t abandon their posts, he still felt that his lungs had been stolen from him. The effect was greatly exaggerated by the knot in his chest, at least.
Calloway paused, kneeling beside him. His movement was careful, tender- and it was a routine the two performed easily, every time they failed. It came naturally, like the humming of the wind. Every time, both of them hoped that it would be last. It never was.
“You really loved him this time.”
It wasn’t enough. Torchbearer didn’t have the strength to pull the words out of his throat- a garbled sob came instead.
“We got closer,” Calloway persisted, running a hand over his own arm- free of bandages and painted a morose red by his scar. “I know we did.”
“I know. I know. I just..” Torchbearer blinked back the dew in his eyes. “I really thought we would win this time.”
“Me too,” he admitted. “But he believed in us this time. He trusted us. It’s progress.”
He shifted, pulling his hands into the rucksack he’d been organising. Tentatively, he brought out Clancy’s mask, running his hands over the stitching. He passed it onto Torchbearer, who held onto it as if it were his very bones, as if it could bring him back.
“I remember,” began Cal, “when it came apart. We were so disappointed.” His eyes turned to Torch. “But you. You just found a needle and stitched it back together. Painstakingly. I barely knew you could sew.”
Torchbearer felt his lips curve into a smile, accompanied by a tear. “I remember.”
“And when he came back to us, and he was hurt. You were so worried, you basically stormed him into the medic tent. You cared so much.” Calloway wiped Torchbearer’s cheek. “You did everything you could, Torch. Maybe we didn’t win, but look how far we’ve gotten.”
“We wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far if it weren’t for you.” At cal’s dismissal, he insisted: “No, really. You patch everyone up as if you’re not carrying the weight of a brick wall on your bare shoulders. You’re doing it now”.
“You’re the one who found me. You found Clancy.” He looked, really looked, at Torchbearer. “You found him every time. You’ll find him again. And we will try, we will do everything we can.” His hand rose, pinky face-level. “Always?”
He smiled through blurry vision, joining his finger to Calloway’s. “Always.”
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