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“Vio, look out!”
That was all the warning that Vio got before a heavy crossbow bolt sent him tumbling from the large boulder he’d positioned himself atop. He hadn’t even had time to react. Before he knew it he was on his back in the mud, staring up at the cloudy gray sky as driving rain fell on his face. That was the least of his worries, though. Once the shock of the initial blow faded it left pain in its wake, radiating out in waves from his abdomen where the bolt was now firmly lodged. Vio knew he couldn’t let it overcome him, though; he was in battle. He was essentially a sitting duck now. He had to get up, or it was over for him. Steeling himself, he dragged his arms into position and prepared to try to push himself up on his elbows.
“Oh no! Vio, don’t move!” Red appeared at his side, placing his hand on Vio’s shoulder to keep him down. With his other hand, he pulled something out of his bag: a bottle containing their only fairy. He bit his lip as he set the jar down next to Vio and examined the protruding crossbow bolt. “This is going to hurt…”
“Just do it,” Vio bit out. They didn’t have time for Red’s bleeding-heart emotion right now.
Red nodded. Despite his feelings, he knew they were in a time crunch. Without warning, he grabbed the bolt with both hands and swiftly yanked it out. Before Vio’s scream of pain was even all the way out of his mouth, Red released the fairy from her bottle and she went to work. In a matter of seconds, Vio’s insides were healed and his skin was unmarred. He would still be pretty sore for a few days, but at least he was back in the fight. At least he was alive. “Thanks,” he gasped as he sat up and reached for his bow.
Red watched critically. “Are you gonna be okay?”
“Yeah,” Vio replied, suppressing a wince as he stood. “I’m good. Get back out there.”
“Okay.” Without further ado, Red turned and ran to back up Green, who was facing off against three bokoblins at once.
Vio surveyed the battlefield. He’d unfortunately learned the hard way that providing cover fire from a vantage point wasn’t going to work. He was going to have to get creative. Making a decision, he splashed through the mud to dart behind another large boulder with the intention of taking a moblin by surprise.
The day had started so normally. At daybreak, the Chain had gone through a portal and emerged in a landscape of desolate moors. Faced with rugged terrain in all directions with no civilization in sight, they’d picked a direction and started hiking. For a while, it was just another day of travel. But then the thunderclouds moved in, and with them an enormous horde of monsters seemingly out of nowhere. As the rain pelted down, the monsters methodically drove the Links apart and forced them to flee in all directions - worrying behavior that was anything but normal for monsters. Four had been pursued by a gaggle of them for what felt like miles, alone and completely cut off from the rest of the group. Splitting into the Colors had been the only option. Tired from being chased, wet and miserable from the incessant rain, and unwilling to be driven any further away from the rest of the Chain, the Colors had turned to face their pursuers head on. They had not been prepared for the fact that these monsters were black-blooded. Not just some of them, but every single one of the dozen or so that had broken off from the main horde.
Grimacing, Vio bent down to yank his dagger from the back of the moblin he’d been targeting. Just to make sure it was dead, he pulled its head back and stabbed it through the eye, trying not to gag as black ichor sprayed from the wound. Quickly, he looked up and scanned the battlefield. They’d started with eight bokoblins and five moblins, and were now down to three bokoblins and two moblins. As soon as Vio finished his count, Blue launched a spin attack that dispatched two bokoblins at once. All right, make that one bokoblin and two moblins. It had been a tough fight, but the Colors were coming out on top.
That was, until Blue slipped on the muddy ground as he came out of his spin attack, windmilling wildly to try to keep himself upright. One of the remaining moblins took advantage of this and swung its spiked club overhead, bringing it straight down towards its floundering adversary. Blue tried to dodge, but off balance as he was, he wasn’t quick enough to get all the way clear. The club clipped him on the side of the head, sending him straight to the ground. He didn’t move.
“Blue, no!” Green ran to stand over their fallen fighter, just barely parrying what would have been the moblin’s final killing blow. That left his back exposed to the second moblin, though, and Red was too occupied with the last bokoblin to cover him. Vio was too far away to intercept via melee, and there was only time to stop one moblin. Making a split-second decision, he raised his bow and loosed an arrow straight into the head of the moblin approaching Green from behind, praying that it would be enough damage to kill it. Thankfully it was, and the thing collapsed only feet from Green’s back with a final roar. However, the roar distracted Green enough for him to take his eyes off the moblin in front of him only for a moment… and it was a moment too long. Vio watched in horror as the moblin who had defeated Blue swung once again, this time taking advantage of Green’s temporary blind spot and smashing its club straight into his side. Green went flying as he let out a sharp cry of pain.
Vio was already moving, having started closing the distance between himself and the last moblin the moment he’d shot. He bit his lip in both fear and frustration. This battle was going south fast. Was Blue even still alive? Was Green? He couldn’t dwell on that right now. Right now, what mattered was eliminating all threats. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Red defeat the last bokoblin with a blast from his fire rod, and then Red was moving in the same direction. Together, they faced off against the last - and most dangerous - moblin.
It quickly became obvious that this moblin was the ringleader of this offshoot from the main horde. It was faster, stronger, and demonstrably smarter than all the rest. No wonder it had beaten both Blue and Green. Vio and Red danced back and forth with it for what seemed like forever, having to make extra effort to keep their footing on the soaked and slippery battlefield. Melee wasn’t Vio’s preferred method of combat, and the blasted moblin wouldn’t let him disengage long enough to get even a single shot off with his bow. Red was doing his best with his fire rod, but the exceedingly rainy conditions greatly reduced its effectiveness and plus, it was difficult to get a clear shot at the moblin without hitting Vio too. The monster was keeping both of them close - a tactic that no run-of-the-mill moblin should have ever been capable of. This wasn’t looking good.
Finally, Vio found an opening. Ignoring the protesting soreness in his abdomen, he backflipped over one of the moblin’s sweeping blows, readying his bow as he did, and loosed several arrows rapid-fire as he landed, not bothering to aim considering how close he was to the monster. They caught the moblin in the chest, sending it to its knees. Immediately Red was there to pick up the slack, stepping in front of Vio and aiming his fire rod straight at the moblin’s head. The first blast of flame had seemingly no effect, so Red launched another. Then another. Then finally, he grunted in frustration as he grasped the rod with both hands and let out a long, sustained stream of fire. It went on for way longer than it should have before at long last, the moblin collapsed to the ground and went still.
For a moment Vio just stood there in shock, waiting for his brain to catch up. Red, having apparently given everything he had (and maybe a little more) in terms of magic, fell to his knees and clutched his chest as he gasped for breath. Vio tried to snap himself back into action. “Are you okay?” He asked, placing a hand on Red’s shoulder.
“I just need a minute,” Red panted. “Go check on the others.”
“Right.” Things were definitely looking pretty bad if Red was the one making the logical decisions. Maybe that barely-healed crossbow wound was affecting Vio more than he’d like to admit. With a nod, he turned towards where Blue and Green had fallen.
Miraculously, Green was pulling himself to his feet, although he was clutching his side and clearly in pain. “I’m okay,” he met Vio’s eyes resolutely. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”
That seemed unlikely. Vio knew what he’d seen. Green had to have bruised ribs at the very least, broken ones at worst. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Green’s gaze hardened. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and trudged through the rain towards Blue. Vio could do nothing else but follow, praying that Blue had fared better than expected as well. Green fell to his knees with a splash beside him, wincing. “Blue?”
Blue looked awful. Despite the pouring rain quickly washing blood away from the wound on his head, he had clearly lost a lot of it if the pink-tinged mud surrounding him was any indication. As Green shook his shoulder, Vio knelt as well and lightly slapped at his cheek. “Blue, come on, wake up…”
After a few tense moments, Blue finally twitched, shifted. His brow furrowed. “Fuck off,” he mumbled almost inaudibly. Both Green and Vio sighed in relief.
“Sorry, we’re not going anywhere,” Vio deadpanned. Right now, he actually wanted to piss Blue off. Pissed off meant alive and at least somewhat aware. “Can you open your eyes?”
Blue groaned. “Don’ wanna. Head hurts.”
“Yeah, we know.” Green coughed into his elbow, then opened his bag. He pulled out their last healing item: a partially-consumed red potion with a few swallows left. It wouldn’t return Blue to full health, but it should be enough to get him out of the danger zone. “Come on, Blue. Open your eyes. I’ve got something that’ll make you feel better.”
It seemed to take a bit for Blue to parse through that information. His brow furrowed even further, but after a few moments his eyelids began to flutter. He managed to open them a bit, but immediately squeezed them shut again with a hiss. “Owww.”
Apparently Green decided this indicated that Blue was conscious enough to take the potion. He motioned for Vio to sit Blue up, which he did, supporting him as his head lolled. Blue gave another groan of displeasure and probably pain. “Here,” Green held the potion bottle to his lips. “Drink this, now.”
Blue let out a pathetic whimper. “I don’ feel good,” he slurred.
Green met Vio’s eyes worriedly, then coughed into his elbow again before continuing to push. “I know. I’m sorry,” he said comfortingly. “This will make you feel better, I promise.” He pressed the bottle against Blue’s lips more insistently.
It took another minute or so of cajoling, but eventually Blue gave in and opened his mouth. He managed two mouthfuls, but on the third swallow, he gagged and then retched. Green jerked back as what little red potion Blue had managed to drink was vomited up. Once again, Green met Vio’s eyes, this time even more worriedly. In tandem, their gaze shifted to the bottle. It was empty.
Vio swore. They had become too soft, too reliant on others during this journey. Wild was the one that carried the bulk of the group’s supplies. How stupid it had been to bank on never being separated. Their only choice now was to try to rendezvous with the rest of the Chain, and fast. “Red,” Vio called, “gear up. We’re leaving.”
Red approached their little huddle, still breathing fast but looking better than he had a few minutes previously. He took in Blue’s sorry state and the grim expressions on Vio’s and Green’s faces and must have figured out exactly what was going on. “I’ll carry him,” he offered, reaching out towards Blue.
Vio hesitated. “You sure you’re good for it?”
“I’m sure.” Red nodded resolutely. He was the most emotional of the Colors, but when it came down to it, he was more than capable of locking in. “You almost died earlier. You shouldn’t push yourself.”
Reluctantly, Vio conceded that Red had a point. Throughout the past several minutes, the persistent soreness in his middle had been at the back of his mind, but far from gone from it. “Okay,” he agreed. First, he took a bandage from his pack and wound it around Blue’s head as tightly as he could. He then stood with a wince and helped load Blue up on Red’s back. Curiously, Green made no move to help and just stood back, clutching his side. It was now pretty obvious that he was hiding the extent of his injury, but frankly Vio couldn’t summon the energy to confront him. As long as he could walk - and it appeared he could - that was good enough for right now. And so without further ado, the Colors set out back the way they’d come.
Several hours passed. The rain only got heavier as time went on, and it was starting to get dark and the temperature was dropping rapidly. Red tried to hurry as much as the rugged terrain and the weight on his back would allow him, with Vio closely following. Vio made a point to check on Blue on regular intervals, ensuring that he could still rouse him and get a response out of him. He could, but Blue seemed weaker and more confused each time. That didn’t bode well.
To make matters worse Green started to fall behind, wheezing and coughing as he clutched his side despite his continued insistence that he was fine. When Red turned around to wait for Green to catch up for the upteenth time, one of his footsteps dislodged a cascade of rocks from a patch of muddy, uneven ground and he went down with a scream, dumping Blue onto the ground as well. Vio knew with just one look that Red’s lower leg was broken. There was no chance of them seeking out the rest of the Chain now. All the Colors could do was shelter in place and wait for rescue. It was getting really dark now, and splitting up would be suicide.
Unfortunately, this type of environment really didn’t offer much in the way of shelter. There wasn’t a tree to be seen on these barren moors, and the best Vio was able to find in their immediate vicinity was a large boulder that could act as a wind break. He settled Blue and Red on the ground with their backs up against it, then directed Green to sit down as well. Green did so and scooted close to Red wordlessly. His face had turned a concerning gray color. Vio chose not to mention this. He knew Green would just lie about his condition anyway.
More time passed. The day ended, but the rain did not. Now the Colors sat in complete darkness, soaking wet as they had been for hours and shivering now that the temperature had plummeted. A campfire was out of the question, and none of them had enough energy left to use Red’s fire rod. The pouring rain even snuffed out their lantern when Vio tried to light it so they could at least see each other in the pitch black. They dug through their packs and distributed every extra piece of clothing they had, but the rain soaked everything through nearly instantly. The situation was now dire.
It must have been nearing midnight when Red sniffled as he tried to huddle closer to the other Colors. “I’m scared,” he whispered.
“I know,” Vio replied gently. He didn’t even have the heart to try to reassure Red, because as much as he was loath to admit it, he was scared too. Their chances of surviving this were becoming slimmer by the minute. He scooted closer to Blue, trying to share as much body heat as possible, but it seemed like a lost cause. All of them were hypothermic, and hope was fading.
“Check Blue’s pack,” Green suggested as he shivered, voice thin. “Maybe he has something that can help.”
“He doesn’t,” Vio said. “We know he doesn’t. I remember everything we had before we split.”
“But-” Green interrupted himself with a coughing fit. He took a shuddering breath and started over. “But what if there’s something in there we forgot about?”
Vio was almost glad that Green couldn’t see his face in the pitch blackness, because he was sure the expression he was wearing would have been considered pretty mean. “Fine,” he spat, reaching for Blue’s pack. His body, however, didn’t quite want to cooperate. He couldn’t feel his fingers, and his hands felt like blocks of wood at the ends of his arms. That was very, very bad, he knew. At least he was still shivering. Blue wasn’t, which was even worse. With all the blood he’d lost, he’d advanced through the stages of hypothermia faster than the others. The only reassurance Vio had that Blue was still even semiconscious was the sound of his weak voice mumbling intelligibly every time he was jostled. There was no doubt that despite his injury clouding his mental faculties, he was cognizant enough to know he had to fight hard to stay alive.
After a few moments of trying in vain to get a good enough grip on Blue’s bag, Vio came to the grim realization that his hands were now completely useless. He didn’t want to worry Green, though, so he batted the bag around for a little while, making noises that he hoped the others would interpret as searching through it. A few minutes later, his sore middle started to twinge painfully from leaning forward for too long. With a pained and frustrated sigh he sat back, huddling close to Blue once again. “Nothing in there we can use,” he reported.
Green made a little noise of upset, which was quickly overtaken by another harsh cough. Vio could feel the force of it despite having both Blue and Red between the two of them. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Vio asked for what felt like the thousandth time, although he already anticipated the answer.
“I’m fine,” Green shot back quickly. Vio didn’t believe him at all.
Time was now crawling seemingly at a snail’s pace. Vio kept Red and Green talking, though their replies became slower and shorter. He kept shaking Blue gently to make sure he was still hanging on, though his responses became weaker. Vio was so, so tired. Despite the rain falling on him, he wanted to curl up and go to sleep. But he knew he couldn’t - falling asleep while hypothermic was a death sentence. Since he couldn’t feel his hands (or his feet for that matter), he began resorting to biting his lips and the insides of his cheeks, hoping that the pain would keep him awake. Even so, he felt like he was in a daze. The only thing that shook him out of it was the feeling of Blue squirming against him. “Blue?” He turned towards him despite not being able to see him in the dark. “What’s wrong?”
Blue moaned. Vio felt his arm come up to start pawing at his own chest. “Hot,” he mumbled.
Oh. Oh no. Vio was well aware that during the late stages of hypothermia, people started to feel overheated and try to take their clothes off, which only hastened their death. A bolt of alarm shot through him, and he suddenly realized that he wasn’t shivering anymore. That was also very bad. “No, Blue, don’t…” he tried to will his uncooperative arms to reach over and bat Blue’s hand away. He couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Blue gave up fighting him very quickly and went still. “Hot…” Blue whispered again. It sounded like he was crying. Vio didn’t blame him. He wanted to cry too. Eventually he did cry, his tears mixing with the cold, incessant raindrops beating down on him.
What were they going to do now? Vio tried to jostle his syrupy-slow mind into action. He needed to think! But he was so tired, and his head was full of static, and he was wet and uncomfortable and, come to think of it, he was starting to feel a little toasty…
Suddenly, for the first time in hours, Vio heard something other than the incessant pounding of the rain and the weak voices of the others. It took him a few moments to figure out what the sound was. It was footsteps, and heavy ones at that. Was he hallucinating? Was someone really nearby? Should he try to call out for help? But wait, what if it was a monster, or even the Shadow itself? What if it wasn’t safe?
As it turned out, Vio didn’t need to force his addled mind to make a decision, because as he was still wrestling with the options, a pair of intensely bright, glowing eyes appeared before the Colors, illuminating a face covered with strange markings. If Vio was still capable of doing so, he would have screamed. And as if the sight of the creepy face before them wasn’t scary enough, it began to speak in an echoing, almost inhuman type of voice: “THERE YOU ARE.”
Vio heard Red let out a little squeak of fear. “Who- who are you?”
“I COME TO YOU IN THE GUISE OF THE ONE YOU CALL THE OLD MAN,” the scary stranger continued. “YOU ARE BEING RESCUED. REFORM, AND I WILL CARRY YOU TO SAFETY.”
That was a lot for Vio’s staticky mind to take in. The Old Man… so this was supposedly Time, somehow? Now that he looked a little closer, the illuminated face did look like Time, and the markings were his too, except they were on both sides of his face instead of just one. So that was promising, at least. Normally Vio would be a lot more apprehensive and critical of what was happening, but he couldn’t dredge up the energy to. So what if this… person was lying? The Colors were going to die anyway, and they literally had nothing to lose from trusting the eerie figure. Okay, so Vio was going to give the benefit of the doubt. This person had said that they would carry the Colors to safety, but they had to reform. It took several long moments for Vio to understand what that meant. Reform. The rescuer wanted them to combine back into one person. One Link.
That was a problem.
While Vio was trying to figure out how to explain this, Red spoke up first: “we can’t,” he said in a small, weak voice. “We’re too hurt. If we reform, all that hurt on one person would…” he trailed off, apparently too scared to say it, but Vio knew what he meant. All that hurt on one person would send Four into shock for certain, and that was dangerous. It could kill him.
“THIS IS NOT A NEGOTIATION,” the figure said sternly. “I CANNOT CARRY ALL OF YOU. REFORM. NOW.”
Well. Vio was all for direct communication, but this seemed pretty harsh. But then again, what other option did they have? Stay here and die of hypothermia? Reforming would epically suck, but even so, Vio had made up his mind. “Okay,” he whispered.
“Okay?!” Red squeaked. “Vio, what-”
“It’s our only shot,” Vio said resignedly. His voice was a little bit stronger now, more resolute. He started pawing the ground next to him where he knew he’d left his sword. “Green?”
A cough, then a weak reply: “Yeah?”
“You got this?”
There was a scraping sound as Green presumably fumbled for his own sword. “Yeah.”
Vio found what he hoped was the hilt of his sword with his numb hand and gripped it as well as he could. He was ready. Now they just had to… oh, wait. Blue. Shit, Blue. Was he even capable of being conscious enough to do this? With his free arm, Vio reached out. “Hey, Blue?” No response.
It seemed that Red had given into peer pressure and decided to go along, because once again, he displayed his ability to lock in when it counted. “Blue, wake up!” He cried. A surprisingly forceful smack rang out, and Vio realized that Red had slapped Blue across the face. “Blue! Come on, please!”
Blue groaned. “Stoppit…” he shifted a bit.
“No!” Red slapped him again, harder this time. Damn. This definitely wasn’t doing anything to help Blue’s head injury, but then again, they were desperate. Vio heard another scraping sound. “Here,” Red said, and Vio felt him jostling Blue, presumably trying to give him his sword. “We’re reforming, Blue!”
Several long seconds passed. Vio was starting to think this was a lost cause when finally, Blue spoke again. “Reform…?”
“Yes!” Red wasted no time. “Yes, reform! Do it! Come on, Blue!”
A few more seconds of silence, then: “‘Kay.”
And then suddenly, everything blurred together. He was one. And this was without a doubt the absolute worst reformation he had ever been through.
Four could barely comprehend the barrage of thoughts assaulting his mind. Green had in fact been lying about how bad off he was because he’d been coughing up blood and Vio had been hiding how dismal the odds of making it out of this alive were and Red had nearly driven himself to the point of mental breakdown and Blue… oh, goddesses. Blue had had no idea whatsoever of what was going on around him, only being truly aware of being unwell and in pain. And as soon as Four managed to sort through all those realizations, said pain hit him full force, driving all the breath from him with a desperate whine. His head felt like it was splitting open and he was nauseous and his whole abdomen ached and his leg was throbbing and there were knives in his chest and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t think and he was hot and cold all over and it was too much too much too much-
The last things he registered before he fell away into unconsciousness were strong arms scooping him up and tucking him against an armored chest, then the feeling of being jostled as his eerie rescuer began to run.
When Four next woke, calling it true wakefulness would have been generous. He was aware that he felt terrible, he was moving, someone was speaking, there was light beyond the eyelids that he didn’t even want to try to open… and there was something else too that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something felt different. Something had changed.
It wasn’t until he felt himself being placed down on some kind of hard surface that he realized what it was. Water. Or, the absence of water. After what felt like forever, he could no longer feel cold, unrelenting raindrops pelting him. The gratefulness he felt at this realization was overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, that it never even crossed his mind to be self-conscious about the fact that someone was now undressing him. Whoever it was proceeded to gently divest him of his sodden, half-frozen clothing and towel him off carefully, speaking softly to him all the while. Four couldn’t make out the words, but the voice was vaguely familiar and the tone was kind. He let himself drift for a while. Although his body was still sending him ongoing signals of pain and malaise, he was content to ignore all of that and just bask in the feeling of being finally, blessedly dry.
Suddenly Four was snapped out of his daze by a spike of pain. As opposed to the dull and ever-present pain that had become familiar at this point, this pain was sharp and insistent. Someone was touching his leg, moving and poking at it right around the spot where it was broken. He couldn’t help but let out an agonized whine. “I know,” the unknown voice he’d heard earlier reassured him. He realized belatedly that the sudden pain must have cleared his mind enough to comprehend words again. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.” And with that, the owner of the voice jerked Four’s leg hard.
If he had been capable of doing so, Four would have screamed. As it was, he only had the strength to whimper as the bones in his lower leg snapped back into place, the broken ends grating against each other and sending out a wave of pure agony. He felt tears leak out of his eyes and roll down the sides of his face. “I’m sorry, I know,” the voice said comfortingly, even a bit sadly. Four found that he was holding his breath and let it out. He tried to take a deep breath back in, but the feeling of knives in his chest made itself known once again and he couldn’t get enough air. He tried not to panic, but it was a lost cause. His breaths became came shallow and frantic and suddenly someone was sitting him up, leaning the weight of his upper body against them, rubbing his back. They were speaking reassuring words that Four had once again lost the ability to identify, but he still understood the general meaning. Slowly and deliberately, he tried to get his breathing under control. The pain was still there and he still couldn’t quite get enough air, but at least he was getting something, enough to just barely quell the panic. His mysterious caretaker seemed pleased at this development, continuing to speak placidly and encouragingly. Four was then eased back into a supine position and the person’s hands moved to his chest, probing the source of the wicked knives preventing him from breathing properly. There was another spike of pain and then something slid, then something else, and then a few more things one after the other. Finally, Four felt an enormous pressure lift and although it still hurt, he could catch his breath again.
Just as he had when he realized he was out of the rain, Four drifted again for a bit. He was vaguely aware of his aching head being touched and of a bandage being unwound from it, and then fingers probing the wound there. It hurt, but just as soon as Four registered the pain, the fingers were gone. His caretaker sat him back up again, and this time he felt the glass lip of a bottle bumping against his mouth. The kind voice spoke encouragingly once again. Four felt awful, but he didn’t want to disappoint the owner of the voice. He steeled himself, opened his mouth, and swallowed.
It was warm. Four hadn’t been expecting that. The warmth slid down his throat and settled in his stomach, and from there it began to radiate out gently. It felt… pleasant, Four decided. The warmth did nothing to lessen the pain, but it made it just a little bit more bearable. It felt nice, just like being dry felt nice. Eagerly, Four drank down the rest of the potion, making a little sound of displeasure when the bottle was taken away. He wanted more. A few seconds later, a bottle was pressed to his lips once again but the contents of this one smelled different, more familiar. He was sure he’d had this kind of potion before. It wasn’t the nice warm-feeling potion, but still, Four accepted it.
As soon as the second potion hit his stomach, Four felt the persistent pain that had been plaguing him start to recede. He began to swallow the rest of this potion just as eagerly as he had the first potion. The pain faded gradually from his leg, then his chest, and then his head. Even the soreness in his abdomen lifted. Four took a deep breath in for the first time in what seemed like forever, and suddenly his head felt clearer. A lot clearer. He’d been suffering from a concussion or maybe even worse, he realized. Normally he’d feel alarmed at that fact but right now, the only thing he was capable of feeling was relief. All-encompassing, all-consuming relief. He let out a long sigh.
“There you are,” the voice Four had been hearing this whole time spoke. Now he found that he was able to recognize it. Warriors. It belonged to Warriors. “I’d wager you’re feeling a lot better now, hmm?” Warriors asked kindly. All Four could manage was a little hum in return. He felt miles better. He wanted to open his eyes and thank Warriors properly, but he found he couldn’t. A bone-deep exhaustion was beginning to roll through him, and he was unable to resist its pull. Fortunately, Warriors seemed to catch on. “Let’s get you into some fresh clothes so you can sleep, okay?”
That sounded wonderful. Just as promised, Four was soon being gently moved again, his limbs being maneuvered into a new tunic and trousers that were soft, warm, and blessedly dry. After hours out in the cold, wet rain, he’d practically forgotten how it felt to be comfortable. It was heavenly. Then he felt himself being lifted and carried a short distance before he was settled down on what had to be the softest bed in the entire world. It was like lying on a cloud. “Sleep well, Smithy,” Warriors said as he tucked him in. “You’ve earned it.”
This was bliss. The last thing that Four thought as he faded into sleep was that he never wanted to see a single raindrop ever again.