I don’t remember much of what came next. I remember running from the bonewalkers, and then just snatches of fevered dreams and moments of agonizing wakefulness, with Delkash kneeling over me. He says we ran for most of a mile before I collapsed; he then carried me to the hill where we camped before. Delkash has no particularly great skill in herbalism, but there is one herb he knows well that he’s used before for staunching bleeding and controlling pain, and he tried his best to comb the area nearby for that specific herb. Still, he tells me that he found nothing, and had to satisfy himself with stabilizing my wounded leg.

When I finally wake up, I am aching and thirsty. It is dark, and it is only the light of the moon shining through a window that lets me see enough to recognize a room in Makari’s cabin. At first, I am confused, uncertain about what brought me here, but memory comes like a wave all too soon. I failed. The memory of the bonewalkers chasing us out of the village, of my broken staff…it all rises up like an evil tide and threatens to choke me.

“Inka?” There is motion nearby in the dark, a woman’s voice. Giliana. That she should see me like this, that she should know the depth of my failure… I feel a shame so hot I wonder that it does not set fire to the blankets that cover me.

“Galiana,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“You’re awake, finally.” I feel a cool hand on my forehead. “Your fever has broken, too. Delkash will be glad.”

“How…how long?” I croak.

“Two days,” she says. “Here.” I hear a rattle of a wooden cup on the floor, the sound of water being poured. “Can you sit up? There is water.”

I struggle upright, feeling flame in my back and sides, and especially in my leg. With a groan I lean back against the wall and gratefully accept the cup from her. My throat feels rough as tree bark, and it hurts to swallow at first, but after a few tries the water soothes it all wonderfully.

“Thank you,” I say, handing the cup back to her. I want to ask her how long she’s been here beside me, but can’t bring myself to phrase the question. In fact, I can’t seem to find any words at all. I want to apologize for failing Makari, for failing the village. I want to apologize for the imposition, for needing her help. I want to apologize for being weak, for being less than she thought, less than she deserves.

But I say none of those things, and simply choke on my shame. The silence lies heavy between us.

“Does it hurt, very much?” she asks, and at first I think she refers to the pain of my failure and embarrassment. It is a moment before I realize she is referring to my leg.

I wish I was strong enough to lie to her, to tell her it’s fine, but she heard me struggle and groan just to sit up. “Yes,” I whisper.

“Nakari and I have bound it,” she says, “and Delkash did what he could, too. It is healing well, but Nakari said it might hurt for a few more days.”

Silence again. What do I say to that?

“You need your rest,” she says then. “I should go tell Nakari that you’ve been awake. Sleep, Inka. I’ll be back in the morning.” I hear her rise, then, and go to the door to the room. “I’m glad you made it back,” she says, and then she’s gone, whispering away into the night.

I should sleep. I know I should. But somehow my thoughts are a tangle that I can’t seem to unwind. Her parting words leave me with a delicious sense of hope that’s hard for me to reconcile with the despair and shame I somehow feel simultaneously. I wish—selfishly—that Delkash had not brought me back to Raven Hill, that he had somehow managed to nurse me back to health himself, in the wild…but I also bless him for the chance to be near Giliana again.

The night passes. The moon sets. The sun rises. I’m still awake and teasing apart the knot that is my emotions when there is a soft knock on the door. Makari enters, and again my shame spikes.

“There you are, young man,” says Makari with a gentle smile. “Giliana said you were awake, finally.”

“Makari,” I say, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry—“

“No, no, none of that,” he says sternly. “You returned to us alive, and there’s no one in this village who is not celebrating that fact.”

“But the bonewalkers—“

“Delkash told us all about it. He says you defeated two by yourself! And you would have had the third, too—despite your injuries!—if a swarm of others hadn’t appeared. No one expected so many of the creatures in Foxhollow. If I’d had any inkling, I never would have sent you there, and to Darkheim with Delkash’s instructions! You did better than any of us could have thought, young man.”

His words are like balm to my conscience, but… “I still have my oath,” I say softly.

He nods. “No one will blame you for forswearing it. You would hardly be the first to discover he’d made an oath he cannot keep. I, myself—“

Makari talks at length about an incident when he was younger, when he’d made an oath in an impulsive moment, and later had to forswear it. I know he’s right—I’ve had to forswear oaths, too—but it doesn’t feel right. There has to be another way, but I just don’t have the energy to think about it. There’s too much else going on my head for me to focus on any one problem for very long.

Makari seems to sense my wandering thoughts, and pats me gently on the shoulder. “I suspect you’ll need a couple more days of rest, at any rate, before you’re up and out of this bed. Focus on recovering your strength,” he says. “Worry about what comes after, after.”

Wise words. And what could I say to him, anyway? I nod. “Thank you, Makari.” I ease myself onto my back and watch as he leaves. Sleep rolls over me like storm clouds.