Arthur paused, his eyes focused no longer on Merlin's face, but off into a distance that only he could see. The words came out of Arthur's mouth pained but clear, "I want to say something I've never s…" He tripped over his words for the briefest of seconds before he continued, "said to you before."
Arthur grunted with the effort of speaking, and directed his gaze directly into Merlin's eyes, "Thank you." A small smile crept its way onto his face, and he brought his hand up to ruffle Merlin's hair. It was a weak parody of a gesture that he could so easily have pulled off not long ago.
Merlin attempted a smile in response but found himself incapable. He cradled his friend as Arthur's arm slipped back down to the ground, and his eyes began to close.
"Arthur, hey." Merlin protested, knowing that it was useless. He brought his other hand up to Arthur's face, which had begun to loll to the side. "No. Arthur."
He shook his friend, knowing that that would do no good either.
"Arthur!" He shouted his name, and Arthur's eyes opened briefly in response.
"Stay with me." He begged in a near-whisper, but Arthur's eyes slid shut as the king surrendered to unconsciousness. In a panic, Merlin's hand fumbled around Arthur's armor as he struggled to check for a pulse. He let out a half-sigh of relief as he registered Arthur's pulse. It was weak, almost non-existent, but it was there.
It was there.
Merlin knew that it wasn't going to be there for much longer, not unless he could get Arthur to the Isle. He looked down the hill, at the distance yet to cover, and realized with frustration that Arthur was probably right—it was going to be more or less impossible without the horses. The fact that Arthur wasn't conscious wouldn't help matters either.
The young warlock was certain that he wasn't going to be able to carry Arthur all the way. Looking around his surroundings, he was also sure of the fact that he wasn't going to be able to craft any sort of sled or thing on which to transport Arthur in any sort of reasonable timeframe. Arthur would be dead before Merlin was halfway through making that which was supposed to save Arthur's life. Merlin sighed and shook his head. There was no help for it, he was going to have to find their horses. Fast.
He half dragged, half carried Arthur to a nearby bush, and made a rather poor attempt to conceal his friend from anyone that might wander by. He surveyed his shoddy handiwork with a grimace, but turned and headed off into the brush, knowing that it was imperative that he not waste time hiding Arthur when the horses could be getting further and further away with every passing second. In any case, it was highly unlikely that anyone should happen upon Arthur in the middle of the woods.
Merlin broke into a jog as he reached the place from which the horses had taken off. He did his best not to look at Morgana's body, laying discarded there on the forest floor. Left there by him. Left there by him after he killed her. He swallowed hard and looked down at the ground, praying that the horses had left behind some sort of trail that he could follow. Tracking was hardly his forte, and he could only hope that the signs would be obvious enough for even him to follow.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of its characters.