The sun had barely climbed past the treetops when a sudden commotion broke the calm of the morning.
Elias had rushed in, worry written all over his face. "Zel—uh, miss! It's your friend—? He's burning up!"
Zelene froze, the basket of herbs slipping from her hands.
When she entered the small room, the smell of damp cloth and feverish sweat filled the air. Ray lay on the cot, his skin flushed a dangerous shade of red. Beads of sweat clung to his temples, his breathing shallow and uneven. His once-steady chest rose and fell with unsettling irregularity, like his body was fighting against something unseen.
"Ray…" Zelene whispered, kneeling beside him. She pressed a hand to his forehead and flinched at the heat.
Finn entered quietly, carrying a small wooden bowl filled with crushed herbs and a pouch of something that smelled sharply medicinal. "He's got a bad fever. Probably from the fall — could be infection from the wounds. I told Elias to boil more water."
Zelene looked up desperately. "Can you… can you help him?"
Finn didn't answer immediately. He crouched beside the bed, pressing his palm against Ray's wrist, then his forehead. His expression tightened, focused but calm. "He'll live. But he needs care. I'll mix something to help bring the fever down."
He started grinding herbs in a small mortar, his movements precise and practiced. Zelene watched him work, her heart hammering.
"You know medicine?" she asked softly.
Finn glanced at her briefly. "I know enough to keep people alive."
He poured the mixture into a cup, adding hot water before handing it to her. "Make him drink this — slowly. Then keep his body cool. Damp cloth, clean water. Change it often."
Zelene nodded quickly. "Thank you, Finn. I don't know how to repay—"
"Don't thank me," he cut her off, tone curt. "Just make sure he doesn't die and cause me more trouble."
His words were sharp, but she caught the flicker of worry behind his eyes.
"I'll keep an eye on him," she said firmly.
Finn stood and turned toward the door. "Good. I'll fetch more herbs. Don't mess up."
As he stepped outside, Zelene took a deep breath and looked down at Ray again. His face was pale beneath the fever's flush, his dark hair clinging to his forehead, and every shallow breath seemed to weigh heavier than the last.
"Ray," she murmured, dipping a cloth into the bucket of cool water beside her and wringing it out. The droplets hit the wooden floor softly. She pressed the damp fabric to his forehead, watching as his body tensed and then eased.
Her fingers trembled slightly — not from fear, but from the fragile sense of helplessness clawing at her chest.
"You're going to be okay," she whispered. "You have to be."
She replaced the cloth, wiping the sweat from his face, his neck, his arms. The air was thick with the quiet hum of insects and the crackle of the fire outside.
Her eyes lingered on him — on the boy who once joked about stealing food from nobles, who had saved her without hesitation, who now lay burning in front of her because of it.
And then, mid-thought, it struck her.
She never told them her name.
Zelene blinked, realization dawning like a slap. Oh no.
She'd been here days now, and not once had she introduced herself properly. They probably think I'm rude. Or suspicious. Or both!
But she couldn't tell them her real name — not here, not when it could expose everything.
She looked at Ray, still breathing faintly, and bit her lip. Think, Zelene. You need something normal. Something no one would question.
Her mind scrambled for possibilities.
Hiri? No, that sounded odd — almost foreign.
Clara? Too common.
Lynn…
Her eyes softened. Yes. Lynn sounds right.
Simple. Forgettable. Safe.
Zelene nodded to herself, whispering under her breath, "Lynn it is."
Ray stirred faintly at her voice, his brow twitching as if he'd heard her. She gently pressed her hand over his and whispered, "Rest, Ray. I'll take care of everything."
Outside, faint sunlight filtered through the cracks of the wooden walls — warm and alive — and for the first time since their fall, Zelene allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd found a fragile bit of safety here.