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When Robin woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was actually on a bedroll (strange, considering both he and Morven refused to sleep properly due to the whole ‘the other one taking over when you slept’ thing).
And then he noticed how awful he felt. His throat felt like he was trying to swallow sandpaper, his nose was all stuffed up, and his eyes ached like someone had punched him in the face. Add the way his whole body felt stiff and achy, and he felt pretty terrible.
Robin groaned, raising his head off the pillow. He must have slept in late, given how high the sun sat in the sky. Unusual for him, because Robin only tended to oversleep when he’d got drunk the night before (and that happened a lot less since he left home). It must’ve been linked to how crappy he felt.
“Oh, you’re awake,” someone said, approaching his bedroll and kneeling beside him. It was Willowfine, her skirts tucked around her and a bright, caring smile on her face. She always looked so pretty.
Robin smiled weakly at her. “Mornin’,” he gasped out, shocked by how gravelly his voice sounded, like he’d smoked a pipe for twenty years. He cleared his scratchy throat, a vague memory coming to him of a weird tickle in his throat as they hiked for miles. How long ago was that? And had Morven started feeling a lot worse in the meantime?
“I’ve got a drink for you,” she said, holding out a cup of something steaming. “It is one of Agrimonia’s oldest recipes. Unfortunately, I can’t cure whatever you’ve got—trust me, I tried yesterday—but this should soothe your throat.”
“Thanks,” Robin said, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows. He startled a bit when Willowfine’s hand rested on his back, helping him sit up, but he soon relaxed into the touch. Shaking hands took the cup and grasped it, and Robin took a sip. It went down like extra creamy milk, coating his tongue and his throat all the way down and warming his belly. Although a harsh, bitter aftertaste made Robin grimace. “Ugh…”
“I’m sorry, I forgot to warn you about that. The herbs should help ease your symptoms, but… they’re not the tastiest things in the forest.”
“N-No, it’s fine,” Robin said, forcing himself to drink the rest of the concoction. Swallowing already felt easier. “Thanks, Willowfine.”
She smiled one of her beautiful, radiant smiles. “No need to thank me. This is what I do best.”
“Prob’ly easier than cleanin’ up after a battle, though,” Robin added, remembering one of the many times Willowfine’s magic had brough the team back from the brink of death.
Willowfine chuckled, taking the cup from Robin and easing him onto his back again (he didn’t fight it, rather liking being gently manhandled by her). “Yes, much easier. You’ll be able to have another of those drinks in a few hours, and I’ve got some other concoctions that might help. Keep drinking water and sleep as much as you need, and you should be on the mend soon.”
A selfish part of Robin wanted to sleep for once, just so Morven could deal with this instead. Even though, as she would no doubt remind everyone, Robin was the one who picked up whatever bug this was.
Willowfine moved to stand, but Robin reached out with an achy arm and clasped her wrist.
“Can… can you stay?” he said, more shyly than he could ever remember sounding. Being poorly had really scrambled his head.
She looked at him, and then smiled. “Of course I can.”
And she sat back down, prepared to keep an unwell Robin company for as long as it took for him to feel better.