The milk of the poppy finally wore off and Jorah jarred violently from sleep. "Lynesse," he mumbled.

"Stay down, stay down," Maester Wynn's voice came. "Your stitches, my lord!"

"Where is Lynesse?" Jorah rasped, struggling to open his eyes. Everything blurred into a drab scene until he rubbed his eyes. The ache in his torso flared into a searing pain, even as he rose his arms. "Ugnnn."

"My young lord," the maester sighed. "You're quite lucky to be alive. You know as well as I that the grizzlies are whelping. Your wounds are serious, but should have been fatal. They are extensive, but not deep."

Jorah realized he was in the infirmary, but the beds around him were empty. "Is Lynesse alive?" he demanded, bracing himself for the worst. "The bear," he recalled. A flash of memory reminded him of a grizzly bear on him, the pain, and Lynesse screaming. "Gods, Lynesse. Is she alive?"

"Yes, yes," the maester answered, disinterested. "You slew the bear with your own sword, my lord. I'll send someone to fetch her. She only finally just left to eat and sleep."

That was right. The warmth of the thick blood running down his forearms was disgusting; like nothing he'd felt before. Jorah nodded and cringed at the pain. "How long?"

Wynn frowned. "I've kept you asleep for two days with milk of the poppy, my lord. This won't be a pleasant next few weeks, I'm afraid." He brought a mirror to the bedside and held it above Jorah's torso.

The reflection made his breath catch in his throat. Long lacerations ran from hip to chest. Bright red, wet flesh stretched across his stomach where there should have been skin. Where each claw mark started and ended was a puzzle; several swipes from the bear left him utterly shredded. The maester and Lynesse had stitched the skin shut where they could, but other patches had no remaining skin to switch.

"Jorah," Lynesse cried from down the hallway. Pounding footfalls preceded her. She flung herself at the bed and Jorah winced as her weight settled on the mattress and he shifted against the bottom sheet. He hissed in pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she chanted as she bent and kissed his face repeatedly. Her face was drawn into something between a grimace and a remorseful frown. "This is all my fault. Dorian said if I hadn't run-"

"Jorah wouldn't be torn apart like a rag," Dorian's voice came. He and Ned Stark entered the infirmary, both looking solemn. Maester Wynn bowed and hurried out.

"That bad?" Jorah rasped.

"That bad," Dorian confirmed. "Have you seen your face? You're gray. You look like a ghost." He frowned. "And that's after two days' healing."

Lynesse sniffled and stroked her husband's cheek. "I'm sorry. You'll heal. There were no punctures too deep, and-" she broke off and cried. "This was all my fault. It's my fault we were out there and my fault the bear attacked."

"Enough," Jorah softly commanded her. "Someone was bound to catch an angry bear on this island at some point or another." He tried to roll and adjust in the bed, but he coughed and swore. A jolt spread through his body as quickly and as powerful as lightning.

Ned and Dorian exchanged a glance and looked away as Jorah cried out in agony. Dorian touched Lynesse's arm. "Come, Lady Mormont," he urged her gently. "Let's give him a moment, and you need some fresh air, hmm?" He pulled her to her feet. "He's not going anywhere." She continued to cry, but allowed Dorian to escort her away.

"What is it?" Jorah whispered after they'd gone, his voice failing him. "How bad?"

Ned pursed his lips. "It's not about your healing. Lynesse speaks the truth. They pieced you together, stopped the bleeding. You may be part bear now, though, from how the animal drenched you in its own blood. You were a frightful sight. I'm afraid Cat will have nightmares about you for years." He offered a small grin, then heaved a sigh. "I'm afraid your day will only get worse, my friend." He fished a note from his pocket. "Word from King's Landing. Robert bids Lynesse Hightower return home and marry Mace Tyrell."

Jorah scoffed. "I've already married her."

"I already sent word of that," Ned replied hesitantly. "I'm sorry, my friend. This is his second response. He has a septon ready to annul the marriage. I'm afraid his word is final. Lynesse is to return to Oldtown, or you'll be hanged as an enemy of the crown."