The first thing I notice when I wake up is the sound of vomiting, but it’s a few more moments before the smell hits my nose. I can feel pressure on my chest, but it’s light, gentle, whoever’s touching me is being very respectful about it. After another moment a second hand touches my forehead, gentle again, the lightest press of fingertips to my brow. Probing, but not intrusive. I take a breath then, and that’s when the pain hits me. Hard.

Every inch of me aches, it’s like I’ve pulled every muscle in my body and even more where there aren’t real muscles to begin with. It’s bone deep and all-encompassing, and I groan out loud feeling it. My hand goes to my forehead … no, it tries to, but I’m barely able to make my shoulder twitch, my hand might flap a bit but I can’t even raise my arm. I give up.

“Careful now, just lie still. Don’t move. You’re too weak.” Wenrich’s voice, low and close to my ear, I can just about feel his breath tickling me past all the pain. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes …” I manage to croak it out, amazed my vocal cords even work right now. I groan again, and finally try to open my eyes. I manage a slit and the light pours in, blazing bright and instantly stabbing into my brain. I groan louder as I squeeze them closed again.

“Just relax. You’re in a bad way. Try not to do anything just yet.”

Someone coughs nearby, then spits with what sounds like quite a bit of violence. “Fuck …” I recognise Kesla cursing instantly, and in spite of everything it’s an incredible relief, even though I have a feeling I know what she’s feeling right now may not seem like much of a consolation to her.

She coughs again, then I hear movement, the gentle creaking of leather, the shifting and clinking of metal, footsteps. Slow, unsure of themselves, but they approach. “They gonna be okay?”

“I wish they hadn’t needed to use that spell, it’s taken a terrible toll on them.” Wenrich sighs. “It’s a miracle they survived it, they weren’t ready to try that much concentrated magic all at once. You should both be dead.”

“Well I’m bloody grateful they did, all the same. And they saved your life too, you ungrateful bastard. So give ‘em a bit more credit.” I hear her move closer, and then the whole world subtly shifts with a subtle creaking that I feel as well as hear. It takes me a moment to realise I must be lying in the cart, that Kesla must be leaning over the side now, watching over me. “How you feelin’, kid?”

“Like shit.” I croak out. It’s a spectacular understatement, if I’m honest.

Kesla laughs, sounding a little bitter if I’m honest, but it makes me happier hearing it all the same. It means she’s still in something vaguely resembling decent shape.

Then I feel something tilt on my other side and then another hand touches my forehead … no, not a hand, it’s too soft, and warm, it feels kind of … fuzzy? Art. Okay, that’s weird. “I’m glad you’re still with us, too.” I’d imagine he’s putting a brave face on like he always does, but his voice cracks just a little as he says it. He’s as concerned as the rest.

“Thank you …” I wheeze, and then I try to lift my arm again. I think I get it a little higher, but it thumps down all the same. “Damn it.”

Wenrich touches my forehead again, his other hand on my shoulder. Firmer now, like a warning. “Please, you need to keep still. You put a terrible strain on yourself, both mind and body. You need to wait, and let us help you.” After a moment he adds: “Are you ready?”

It takes me a moment to work out how to answer that, but then I hear Krakka rasp: “Ready enough.” and I realise he wasn’t talking to me anymore. I frown, and it feels like my whole forehead catches on fire. I groan again, and sort of flop as I try to fold up on myself, I can’t help the reaction. Once again it doesn’t work. This time Wenrich actually pushes me back down again.

“Just hold on.” Kesla whispers, gentle now, and I feel her hand on my brow now. Rough and worn, marked with calluses from her weapons and what feels like a significant amount of scarring, too. But her touch is still so soft, and very soothing. “We’re gonna help you. Krakka, do it.”

“Sure thing, boss.” I feel the cart shift again and someone else moves close, coming right up on me now while I feel Wenrich move aside for them. After a moment someone takes my hand, and it’s a small grip, but surprisingly strong. Wenrich again. My other hand is taken immediately after, and this time it’s that wonderfully soft touch again, Art, squeezing a little but still so gentle, laying his other paw over both.

I hear something sloshing about, then two fingers touch my forehead, cool and rough but also strangely slick, and they trace something across my brow. Oil. It’s Krakka. This must be a blessing. Oh yes, I know what this is now.

“Mother Luna, please hear your humble and faithful servant now. This child has done us all a great service, and they have paid a heavy price for it. It’s far too great, and they do not deserve it, not any of it. Please make them well again, I know you love them as much as you love me and you know they can do great things. Please give them that chance.”

I feel another touch on my shoulder now, and it takes me a moment to realise it’s Kesla. Then someone grips my other hand, and this one feels much strong, much larger, and I’m genuinely a little surprised when I realise it must be Yeslee. After a moment the cart shifts again as Krakka moves around, and I feel footfalls on either side of my hips, like he must be standing directly over me now. Okay … this is getting a little weird –

Krakka speaks again but I instantly realise it’s a spell, the way it’s not so much a sound as a force, felt rather than heard. Magic follows rules when put through certain rituals or filtered through certain symbols, or catalysing elements, even just a thought or intention, but it’s a living thing all the same, I’ve lived with it long enough to accept this simple truth. I welcome it now like an old friend, even if it does take a different form than the one I’m used to.

This isn’t like the last time Krakka healed me, that simple, subtle warmth spreading slowly through me, or even the localised, intense but paradoxically pleasant heat of previous times when he mended some wound or other. It’s like I’m being engulfed in light, and it hurts. It hits me so hard I don’t even have time to take a breath, and for a few moments I’m gasping and gawping, desperate for air, but I don’t suffocate. Indeed, while this is a great deal of pain, it’s like I can take it all the same, like some deep part of me knows that, even though it hurts, it’s not damaging me. This pain is good, and healthy. It’s mending me.

Even so, it’s not an experience I’d like to repeat any time soon.

I don’t know how long it goes on for, it’s so complete a sensation it’s like I lose myself in it. Once I can actually start thinking again I struggle to regain some kind of awareness beyond the sensation, even as I realise it’s easing, and slowly I start to return to my body, start to feel it again. The great fire is fading now, and as it subsides I realise the pain from before is gone now, replaced by a kind of numbness which itself is already giving way to a prickling sensation, like I have pins-and-needles through my whole body. It does mean, of course, that in spite of this I now have control of my body, even if I can’t feel it, and I hear myself groan well enough as I raise my arm and bring it to my head. I think. I can’t quite tell yet.

When I try opening my eyes this time the light is bright but no longer blinding, and I’m able to squint through it, seeing the sky above me. The blue is heavily streaked with pink and orange, disclosing that evening is well advanced, and as I start to sit up – yes, it would seem I really can move now – I can see that the shadows are drawn deep and heavy around us. I double over and put my hands to my legs, squeeze my thighs, rub at my knees, my calves. The tingling prickles where I’m touching, but for now I still don’t actually feel anything yet. “Oh Minerva, I don’t like this at all.”

“Hey, look at it this way,” Kesla’s at my side again, and I realise she’s still leaning over the side to caress my shoulder. I just don’t feel it. “You’re alive, and you’re up again.”

I grit my teeth, weirded out that while I probe at my molars and incisors with my tongue I’m not getting any sensation of it, and let go a deep sigh. I look back at her, now noticing how drawn she looks, a little pale in the face and much more green around the gills, so to speak. She doesn’t smell like vomit herself, but I can scent it in the air all the same, subtle but there. “You’re not at your best right now either, are you?”

She cocks a brow at that, jaw tightening for a moment, then smiles, rueful. “I don’t like teleporting, I can tell you that right now. That gargled hairy balls, big time.”

“It doesn’t get much better, unfortunately.” I venture a smile of my own but have no idea if it works or not. “I’m just immensely grateful I was able to make it work at all. You’re alive too, which is a great relief indeed.” Something occurs to me now and I start. “Oh no, what happened to your horse?”

Kesla steps back, points off to where the mounts are currently standing, mostly docile, and Driver 8 is holding their reins in his incredibly oversized hand. He shifts slightly when he sees me, raising his free hand and giving a wave. I’m so surprised I wave back like an idiot without even thinking about it beforehand. I might start to blush too, but I really couldn’t say.

Ulrich’s among them, although his head is down, and he’s breathing heavily. The lid of the eye I see is drooping, and he’s snorting loudly with each breath. “Oh gods, he doesn’t look too happy at all.”

“I’ll admit, I didn’t even know a horse could puke, but he did. He enjoyed that even less than I did. But Yeslee reckons he’ll be alright soon enough.”

“Again, I’m relieved. He’s too pretty, I would have been really upset if we’d left him behind under all that.”

“Me too. I’m glad you did it, Gael, even if it did put a big strain on you.” She reaches out again, cups her hand to my cheek. This time I think I feel the slightest pressure through the tingling. “That was incredible, and unbelievably brave. You did your da proud today, kid.”

I close my eyes, sighing deep again. “Thank you.”

“You just sit back now, okay?” When I open my eyes again Kesla’s already stepping away. “I want you to get some rest, and I ain’t taking no for an answer.” As if in punctation to the statement, she’s already heading off to join Driver 8.

This time when someone puts their hand on my knee, gentle but insistent, I really do feel it, despite the tingling which I now realise is finally starting to ease off, slow but sure. I turn to find Krakka’s still in the bed of the cart with me, crouching at my side now, and I realise he’s adjusting something behind me, a couple of the of horse-feed, propped up as makeshift pillows. “You heard the boss, Gael. Sit back. Rest. My lady’s healed the damage but you’re liable to be weak for a day or so yet.”

“You mean Kesla might actually postpone beating seven hells out of me for tonight, then?” I venture as I lower my back and shoulders into the sacks, which feels inexplicably wonderful to me now.

He chuckles tunefully. “Probably just tonight. Tomorrow it’ll likely be business as usual.”

I adjust my position a little until I find the sweet spot, then settle in once and for all. “I don’t mind really. After today I think I might even be looking forward to it a little bit.”

This time he cackles, which might be the most genuinely corvid sound I’ve ever heard him make. He stays where he is for a few moments, hands dangling comfortably between his knees, and watches me, his dark-but-bright eyes incredibly warm now. “I’m glad you’re okay too, Gael. You gave us quite a scare.”

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t let her die. I couldn’t let any of you die. I did what I had to do.”

“Well I’m proud of you, same as the boss. Reckon you might’ve finally repaid that debt you seem to insist you still owe us.”

That makes me frown. “Oh no, I don’t think so. Not yet. I’m not sure that one really counts.”

Krakka looks at me for what feels like a long time, then sighs. He stands up, shrugs, then steps up close and puts his hand on my shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “You’re a good kid, Gael. Keep that heart of yours pure, okay?”

I don’t know what to say to that. Krakka gives my shoulder another squeeze before letting go, then grasps the side of the cart and flips over the side, thumping down to the ground from what seems like a substantial jump for him without missing a step.

“Kesla’s right, you know.” Wenrich surprises me, and I look up to find him sat cross-legged, backwards on the bench, looking over the crate and all our gear, rearranged to make room for me here in the back. His face is thoughtful, but warm nonetheless. “Darion would be so proud of you.”

A sob escapes me before I can stop it, and I have to fight to pull in a few deep breaths to keep from bursting into tears right here. I can feel the wet warmth on my cheeks already, not a lot of it, but enough, and my eyes are very warm. I wipe it away fast, grimacing a little, and take several more breaths, reining it all back under control before the floodgates have a chance to truly burst on me. Even so, all the tension I didn’t realise I’d still been carrying all just leaks right out of me. After maybe a minute, I’m finally able to pull in a deep breath without hitching or shaking, and it looks like I’ve got it all the way under control again.

“Damn it. You bastard. That was not fair.” I wipe my face again, thankful finding my eyes are drying out now.

“It’s true, though. You did very well out there. You’ve become exactly what you hoped you would, and more besides. I mean what I say, Darion would be very proud of you. I know I am.”

“Thank you.” I let out another sigh and start to rearrange my gear closer to hand, just in case I suddenly need it again. I doubt anything else will happen this soon, though. They might not even know we’re still alive yet – I get the feeling they fully intended to bury all of us, so right now they’re most likely trying to dig the crate out from under all that rubble. It could take them a long while to realise their intended prize isn’t actually under there. And even if they do, they’re going to have to rethink their plan again, and it might take them a good while to come up with something new in the near future. Might be we’ve bought ourselves another few days of travel in the meantime, and it could even be enough to make the difference.

Wenrich tosses something to me, and as I fumble it up from my lap I realise it’s one of the satchels carrying the cured venison. My stomach starts growling before I’ve opened it, hells, before the smell even reaches my nose. “Eat something. You need your strength.”

Taking out one of the bundles, I set the satchel aside and start unwrapping the paper. Wenrich, meanwhile, has already turned back round on the bench and is taking up the reins as everyone else starts mounting up.

Ulrich still seems somewhat subdued compared to what he’s been in the past, but he perks up a little once Kesla’s fed him one of the apples from her pack and then a few sugar-cubes, which he practically inhales in his obvious hunger. She strokes his neck, leaning her forehead against his and whispering to him, and he snorts and grunts affectionately enough in response. By the time the others are ready and Driver 8 has tied my mare’s reins to the back of the cart alongside Yeslee’s mount, the great warhorse looks like something close to his old, formidable self again.

I take a look around then, searching our surroundings. The walls of the ridges are close around us now, the valley floor tight and especially rough, and while the light is fading fast from the sky, with my elf blood I can see well enough all the same. I don’t know where we are, we could be in the next valley over or miles away from the scene already, I really couldn’t say, although I doubt we’ve covered that much ground yet. I imagine Kesla wants to get some real distance between us and them before we even think about trying to camp.

Yeslee’s nowhere to be seen now, but I know she was there at the ceremony all the same. It’s interesting. She’s always been mostly standoffish with me in the past, but I never thought she really truly disliked me. Realising she actually deigned to take part in the healing ritual in the first place is a little bit of a surprise, but it’s also a pleasant affirmation for me. Even if she did light out to scout the area as soon as it looked like I was out of danger again, I like to think it means she actually does care. I try not to smile too much at the thought.

This time the torches are lit with simple flint and steel instead of my magic, but right now I don’t know if I could really muster anything more complicated than a few sparks anyway. The numbness has pretty much gone, but in its place I feel a subtle ache in my back and limbs that I don’t doubt will take a bit longer to fade, and a bone-deep exhaustion in my body now that probably makes serious movement a bad prospect right now. The frustrating thing is that, other than that, I’m feeling very awake right now, I just can’t do anything.

As we start trundling along I start chewing on the meat, not really paying much attention to it as I ruminate. I can’t believe I managed to pull that off, it was a desperate shot with no real hope of success, but when I saw the avalanche raining down I couldn’t think of anything else to do. All I could think was that it was clear there was no way we’d all be able to get through in time, or even any of us, I don’t know … I guess I wasn’t thinking, really. It was mostly just a reaction while the most obvious results of doing nothing played out in my head, I think. Next thing I knew I was preparing that evocation and hoping for the best. I’d done things like it before, but not aiming for anything like such an extreme effect – I’m amazed it didn’t just backfire on me the moment I tried it. I should be dead. We should all be dead.

Instead, I saved all of my friends, and the cargo. Albeit while also suffering some horrible reverberation on the backend to convince me I was clearly a complete idiot for trying something that radical. Cause and effect, of course. It’s one of the primary rules of magic – you can’t get something for nothing, so while I succeeded in stopping several hundreds, maybe thousands of tons of stone from obliterating us all completely, I damn near killed myself in the process. If it hadn’t been for Krakka, I don’t know how long it might have taken me to recover. If I even were to recover …

After I pop the last scrap of meat into my mouth I strip the glove off my left hand, flex it out, turn it over a few times, passively examining it. My fingers are still a little tingly, the last of the numbness seems to be lingering there for now, although I’ve got enough sensation there that it doesn’t noticeably foul my basic motor skills. Absent-mindedly I start tracing in the air again, not seeking any effect, just letting the magic play … except nothing’s coming. Okay … that might be a problem …

Frowning, I start to properly concentrate on what I’m doing. Nothing changes. There’s no glow, none of those familiar ethereal blue lines I’ve come to love so much. Nothing. My skin starts crawling now, my mouth drying out, the back of my neck prickling. I feel a cold sweat starting. I prop myself up a little more, strip off the other glove for no real reason – none of my gloves have any fingers anyway, it just makes it easier for me to work my magic, at least in my head – and reach out the other hand too, start to summon a simple scrying spell. Something I’ve tried dozens of times before, I don’t even have to think about it really. But I do think about it now, genuinely projecting into it just to make sure.

The focus helps me to concentrate on the spell, and for a moment it looks like I might actually make it work this time – the lines come now, the sigil starts to trace, and I start to breathe out in very cautious relief indeed … then the symbol breaks apart and dissipates before it’s fully formed, like a silken-fine cobweb caught in a harsh gust of wind. I cry out my dismay, I can’t help it, and it’s like my brain responds in kind, a focused needle-fine prick that starts to dig in deep between my eyes. Ow …

I half hear the thumping of hooves behind me, then something hits the cart with some force, rocking the whole thing, and I’m jolted back to reality to find Art’s landed in the back with me, already crouching close in front of me. Really close, I suddenly realize.

“Careful back there!” Wenrich shouts, glaring back over his shoulder, although the horses aren’t reacting at all.

“Sorry …” Art clearly isn’t paying any real attention to that admonishment, he’s entirely concentrated on me, looking right at me, close enough his face takes up much of my vision. His eyes … wow, I can’t believe how incredibly green they are, so strangely odd and animalistic and yet somehow still capable of such expressive warmth. Or clear concern, like now, they’re wide open, and his pupils are unusually big right now. He reaches out with one paw, towards my shoulder, tentative, but stops short, doesn’t touch. “Are you okay?”

“I’m … I …” Wow, I really do have to think about that, don’t I? I’m not okay, I realise with a start. My magic has never failed me before, not in all the years I’ve known it. Even on those occasions when I’ve run into blocks, like another mage’s counterspell or a null field, it’s never truly failed, it was just the mechanics of magic themselves at play there. No, this is different, a genuine dearth, like my magic’s just gone. Truly knocked out and now it occurs to me that it might not even come back. I was wrong before – I doubt I could even summon sparks right now. Minerva please help me … gods, I’m genuinely scared right now. “Oh shit …”

He gets over his reticence then, touches my shoulder, and his other paw, tentative but still bold enough, touches my face, slowly cupping my cheek. “Are you hurt? Is it bad? Is there anything I can do? D’you want me to get Kes? Or Krakka?”

“No, no …” I wave him off, but weakly, and he doesn’t move away. Guess my heart’s not in it either. “My magic … I can’t … it’s not responding. This is worse than I … I didn’t expect it to be this bad. I’m … Art, I’m scared.”

My throat suddenly feels so thick, my face hot, and I can feel the burning behind my eyes, that shameful familiarity, the tears are coming and I can’t stop them. He winces when I say those words, and again seeing my face, and he drops to his knees, so close to me now, pulls me into a hug. He squeezes me so tight, but not too tight, and I’m slow realizing that he’s never actually done this before. Sure, he’s touched my hand on occasion, or given me a playful, friendly nudge, squeezed my shoulder or a few times even placed a companionable arm around my shoulders, but only on a few occasions in a tavern when he’s very drunk.

That takes me by surprise more than anything – Art is the friendliest person I’ve ever met, he’s what my father once referred to me as “touchy-feely”, but not in a bad way, just an unconsciously friendly, jovial way. It’s how he interacts with all his friends, he hugs them whether they seem to want him to or not, he can be so affectionate even in the worst times, and it’s so thoroughly endearing that everyone relents eventually. I’ve even seen Yeslee give in to one of his hugs before, even though she was very awkward about it.

But he’s never really been like that with me. Yeah, there have been those odd little flickers, but otherwise he’s always exercised restraint with me, always respected my space. This is so out of character that I don’t have the first clue how to react, so I’m just sat here, arms half up at my sides, awkward, unsure if I’m going to hug him back, or even if I should. I’d stiffen up if I wasn’t so fatigued. And yet … gods, there’s something so nice about this, so incredibly warm and pleasant and … wow, I can’t believe it took me so long to come to this conclusion with someone who’s half cat. It’s cuddly. And I like it. I’m even more surprised by that than the rest, and when I realise it I hate myself for having the thought in the first place …

So I find myself responding to the hug at last, curling my arms around his back and squeezing him back as much as I’m able right now. I close my eyes and just go with it, and for what feels like a long time I just stay here in the moment, enveloped in his warmth and softness. He’s wearing leather armour and I can feel a whole lot of knives tucked away on his person, but somehow he’s still so soft.

Then he stiffens up, I can feel him turning awkward even before he whispers: “Oh … um … sorry, this is a bit … yeah, sorry. This is a bit much, ain’t it? I shouldn’t have –”

He starts to pull away and I don’t even think about what I’m doing, I just squeeze him tighter. “No. Don’t let go. This is nice.”

I feel him jolt a little to those words, like I genuinely caught him by surprise, and he gets even stiffer, if that could be possible. But it doesn’t last long, and soon enough he melts, hugging me back again. We stay like this for several moments more, and before long I swear I start to hear him purring, low and rhythmic. Hell, I can feel it right through him. This is nice too, to be honest.

Eventually he loosens up, and this time I let him, relaxing my own grip too. He draws back, but keeps close, his face very close to mine indeed now. It’s the closest he’s ever been to me now, actually, now that I think about it. So close now that for the first time I can actually smell him, there’s a very subtle smell to him, to his fur, kind of earthy and pleasant despite a slightly bitter, musky undertone, although the leather is a far more overpowering aroma. There’s also the more subtle smell of his blades, something I’m becoming familiar with now thanks to Kesla’s presents, likely the oil he must use to polish his weapons.

Him being this close to me suddenly starts to feel very complicated indeed, even after what just happened. Looking into his eyes again, and I can see the surprise in them, those pupils are still so big I can see my face reflected in the black so clearly I’m kind of taken aback. Suddenly I feel very hot indeed, a warmth that’s spreading through me very fast, and something’s tingling in my head as my mind races far ahead. My heart’s suddenly pounding too, although it takes me a moment to realise it. “Um …”

“Oh … yeah …” He sits back on his heels, drawing back further than I would have expected, and suddenly he looks very sheepish. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” I blanche, letting my hair fall across my face and thanking the gods for it in that moment because I know I’m blushing like mad. “It was nice. That was very helpful, thank you. I needed that.” I take a few deep breaths and manage to get myself under control with surprising speed, and when I’m able to look up again Art’s sat back more comfortably, watching me calmly now. That damn baffling half-smile of his is back. Infuriating.

“You clearly needed it. Look, you just did something bloody crazy. You’re drained. You need time to find yourself again. Rest. I’m sure your magic’ll come back fast. You just gotta look after yourself right now.”

“Yes. You’re right.” I brush those unruly locks aside once I’m confident enough I won’t look like a complete idiot. I try my best smile, this time actually feeling it, and it seems to suffice. “Thank you. It’s okay. I just panicked, that’s all.”

He cocks his head, watches me for a few more moments. Then he seems to come to a realisation, and starts, scrambling to find his feet again. “Shit … where’s my horse –”

“Lose something?” Krakka admonishes him as he rides alongside the cart, perilously close to the rock wall that’s currently looming tight over us, and he’s holding something out to him, now. I follow the reins back to find Art’s filly trotting passively right behind Krakka’s horse, while the cleric gives him a look which could be called reproachful but seems too amused to be genuine. I have to grin at that.

I know he can’t blush, or at least I can’t see it because of all that fur, but Art’s embarrassment is clear all the same as he sheepishly grabs the reins and steps up to the back of the cart. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks. Um …” He looks sidelong back at me, nowhere near as cocky now, and takes a deep breath. Then he collects himself, and it’s like nothing embarrassing ever happened to him in his whole life as the grin he gives me is blinding white and typically sharp. “Forget me own head if it weren’t screwed on. Well, tata for now.” He tips a nifty little salute and makes a deft jump onto the filly’s back, the horse wheeling about for a few moments in clear surprise but calming quickly as he reassures her.

As he pulls his mount back to start riding behind the cart again I cock my brow at him, hoping I look as amused and superior as I can in order to offer a kind of mock admonishment, and he just keeps grinning back at me like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I roll my eyes and turn away, now finding Krakka watching me even as he continues to guide his horse along in that perilously tight gap next to us.

“He’s right, just go easy on it. You’re spent. Give it a chance to come back on its own.”

Thinking about it for a few moments, I let out a little sigh, nod back. He returns the nod, cocking a little smile of his own, and spurs his horse on through the gap so he can join Kesla in front. I catch her looking back over her shoulder at me then, thoughtful but unreadable, and I wonder how long she’s been doing that, in spite of the rough footing under her big horse’s hooves. I get the troubling feeling that she can read every thought I’ve had, or am still having, without any trouble at all.

Looking away fast, I flip my hood up for the first time since we left civilisation, suddenly feeling very exposed again. Damn it … I chance a look around the hood back at Art, find he’s still smiling at me with that frustrating cocky ease of his. I break away, withdraw into myself again, sit back as I let myself sink down a bit against the feedbags. Once I’ve pulled my gloves back on I cross my arms tight across my chest and let my head settle back against the makeshift pillows, finally closing my eyes again. Sleep, then. Seems like a good idea.

Hopefully my magic will be back when I wake up. Gods, I hope it is. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I’ve genuinely trashed my powers trying something so overly ambitious … hell no, that was downright stupid. What the hell was I even thinking?

As the progress of the cart rocks my like a cradle, I start to drift off. For a moment or two it’s a little scary, going away from myself is too much like returning to that numb cocoon I found myself stuck in before, but I’m able to bed those thoughts down easily enough. I need this, I need the rest. Finally I drift off, and for a while at least the darkness I go to is pleasant and restful …