[Arvedui III]

The crackling fire was the only sound pervading into the darkness of the small camp. Rangar allowed Carmalita to redress his wounds without any struggle, save the occasional wince from the stinging alcohol. He had to hand it to the nurse. While still feeling the lingering effects of her own wounds, she had unflinchingly tended his, making Rangar's shame and guilt swell to incredible new heights. It's my fault, and they suffer. Bregand, Wren, and Carmalita. All of them. And I don't even know why. This should only have happened to me. Maybe I shouldn't be, but they understood the risks when, no. No. Not even I understand, how could I? Why is this happening? Why now? Too many questions, and not enough answers. Rangar could feel his eyes water slightly, yet whether that was from the pain of his wounds or the pain of his mind he could not tell. He gave up trying to think. He didn't want to worry the others. He couldn't cry. He never had. Or had he? Way too many questions were coming up at this moment. Rangar, like the rest of the company, turned down and fell into an uneasy sleep; He supposed he dreamed, but he could not remember what of, or maybe he didn't want to.

As dawn crept over the tree lines, Rangar ignored Camalita's orders and got painfully to his feet, fully expecting to see Turthol sitting by the dying embers of the fire muttering something about getting up early, or Enien leaning against a tree humming some elvish tune. But no sights greeted him. Everything was still. "Hullo, you're up without permission." Said a voice behind him. He jumped and spun around, only to see Wren sitting on an old log. Rangar looked down. Great, more reasons I should, "Feeling better?" Wren's voice cut into his thoughts. He nodded dumbly, trying to look away. Stupid. She's fine; It wasn't your fault. "You sure?" He nodded again. This wasn't a good time for talking, save with maybe one person. "Is Turthol back yet?" He asked softly, still looking at the ground. " It is polite to look at someone when you speak, Rangar." She said in a mock scold, trying to be mischievous while at the same to avoiding his question. He chuckled despite himself, making his ribs hurt. "Sorry." He said, trying to sound light-hearted, but it only achieved the effect of gnarling his already hoarse voice. "Turthol hasn't come back, yet." Said Wren quietly, abandoning her cheerful tone.

Rangar frowned again. More decisions to make. Turthol can take, but that man. He shivered. I have to trust him, but that man. Without bidding he reached for his side, ignoring the look Wren was giving him. No, he can handle it. After all, he's much better then I. "What did Turthol say to do if he wasn't back by dawn." Rangar asked keenly. "He said, um, to keep going and he'd catch up with us." Wren answered. "Ok then. Let's get going." Wren eyed Rangar incredulously for a moment, the shock the look off. "Camalita is going to throw a fit, you know." "Not this early in the morning." Rangar replied wryly. He hadn't planed it, but it seemed the most logical way to get moving. And, though he wouldn't admit it, the quickest way to get away from this place.