Gaffriel78

I woke in the wee hours of the morning, sweating. I had been in one-hundred and four degree weather before and not broken a sheen. A simmering heat had nestled itself to the hollow of my neck and insinuated against my body. My clothes clung to me, damp—mine and hers. Niala’s tail kept me pulled against her, and my light stirrings made her clutch closer. Her breath panted in broken and shallow huffs.

A nightmare?

No.

I stroked her shoulder with gentle motions and worked my way away from her as I felt over her burning forehead.

I knew that damn raw meat was going to get her sick.

Okay, it's probably the molt, but I’m allowed to be surly, even if it didn’t taste bad at all. It was actually really good… I can tell why she doesn’t like the taste of flames. But then again, she likes my taste just fine.

I had to shake thoughts out of my head again as she curled into herself. I reached a hand out to feel over her forehead and wilted when I felt the heat of her. Her skin reddened, too warm, and she turned her head into my hand with a quiet whimper.

Not knowing what else to do, I rifled through the towels they had given us and found a few rags in the stack. A water fountain sat not ten feet outside the door, and I went outside to wet the rags. The rattling hum of the condenser stirred to life as I held my thigh to the front button. It took a minute under the low flow, but I got them sufficiently wet enough and slipped back into the cabin with them. I folded one with care and placed it over her forehead.

I didn’t crawl back into bed with her, but I took the blanket and let her have just a sheet. She didn’t need anything else making her warmer, especially not me. With the blanket curled up around me, I laid back against the wall and closed my eyes. The sound of her fretful breathing ebbed into a soft rhythm once more, and I just prodded myself to swap her cool cloth every few minutes or so. Maybe it helped; maybe it didn’t. Either way, it made me feel better to try. She needed a healer.

By morning, her fever had ebbed. My cool cloth rotation had eased her back from whatever precipice she balanced upon. Lulled by her peace, I too sought rest, however short-lived.

It didn’t last long enough, and I startled awake just in time that morning. Niala had packed and quietly avoided my gaze as she moved things about.

“Gaff.” She shook my shoulder, and I looked up at her. She petted over my fluffy hair. I had gone to bed with it still wet.

“Morning,” I told her, and my sleep-riddled voice slipped out deeper and smoother than it did during the day. She drew her hand back and looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“You smell like a sweaty campfire.” Her nose wrinkled.

“Yeah, well, you’re not that fresh, yourself. You sweat through the night.” She reached around the bed and grabbed for the cloth that had fallen from her brow, feeling the slight dampness of it.

“Were you up all night?” She asked.

I shook my head. “Woke up a little after dawn.” Truthfully, I woke up before that half a dozen times, too, but I didn’t want to worry her.

“Let’s get a shower and get out. Pick a number between one and seven.” It didn’t matter what number she picked. I knew we had to try the barracks. We just had to be careful.