Disclaimer: I don't own Bravely Second, all rights to the owners.

Panic attack warning.

Yew wakes up in the dark, again. Cold panic shoots through his veins at his lack of sight before he remembers the trap.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and releases it. He can feel his bedroll around him, he's fine. He's still in the tent.

He is still in the tent, right? Yew quickly touches the floor, confirming the rug below him.

"Of course I'm still in the tent." Yew chides himself. His heart is still pounding irrationally fast in his chest, and he brings one hand up to clench at it, still trying to steady his breathing. "Why wouldn't I be?"

A small, unhelpful part of his brain suggests that he could have been moved out by the others while he was sleeping. He pushes the stupid thought aside.

"I've been abandoned before though." His thoughts whisper. "Janne, Nikolai."

He's in the tent. It's a moot point. He hasn't been abandoned.

"They could have left without me. They don't need the tent." The thoughts suggest. "Maybe it's midday. I'd never know, and would just be lying here trying not to disturb people that aren't even here anymore."

Yew grits his teeth. He's being irrational. He knows he's being irrational. The others are good people, they wouldn't leave him. He really wishes his heart would stop pounding.

"But Janne was a childhood friend, and Nikolai a second father. They knew me for much longer, and they still left."

Just to assuage his own irrational fear, he stretches his arms out from his bedroll, feeling around for Magnolia. She slept near him last night. She's right here to his left… no, no, to his right. Right?

Yew stretches his arms out to their full length, trying to find the familiar tough fabric of a bedroll's exterior, or some of Magnolia's hair spread out on the ground, but nothing meets his fingers. He only finds more of the rug.

"It's fine, it's fine. She's probably out of arm reach so I don't wake her up again." Yew tells himself fervently. "I shouldn't be reaching around anyways. I might be making too much noise. What if it's midnight and everyone is still sleeping?"

He pulls his hands back inside his bedroll. His heart still hasn't stopped beating hard in his chest, and Yew notices his own breathing start to pick up. He brings his hands up over his mouth to try and muffle the (presumed) sound a bit.

"Calm down, stop panicking." Yew tells himself as if it's that simple, which he well knows it's not. "You're giving yourself a panic attack Yew. Stop. Breathe."

He can feel his hands going cold against his face, and it's at that point Yew realizes he can't feel anymore. They've gone numb and cold and stiff. If he had any doubt he was having a panic attack, it's gone now.

Yew is surprised at how detached he feels from his own body even as he trembles in his bedroll, curled up in a ball, trying not to let his breathing or shaking disturb anyone else. He thought panic would feel different from numb detachment. It's like his thoughts and body are feeling two entirely different things. If anything, Yew is irritated that his body is panicking, because while he was certainly anxious, this is an overreaction.

It might be interesting if it wasn't so inconvenient, and if he wasn't trying so hard not to wake the others.

He feels so cold. The tent is climate-controlled, but he feels cold, and his face is wet. Why is his face wet? When did he start crying?

Yew curls deeper into his bedroll, hoping that the fabric will be able to muffle any noise he might be making.

He doesn't know how long he stays like that. It might be a few seconds, it might be a minute. Eventually though, he comes aware of pressure on his back. A pair of hands are there, gently trying to pull him out of the hole he's hiding in.

Yew doesn't want to listen to the hands. He wants them to leave him alone, for them to go back to their own bedroll and pretend they never saw him. The hands don't listen though. They continue to tug on his clothes, and Yew can't muster much resistance. He gives in quickly and tries to uncurl himself, but with his numb, unresponsive hands he finds he can't pull himself out of his own bedroll, and that sets off true mental panic as he starts to thrash, trying to free himself.

The hands quickly clamp around his shoulders, and Yew is pulled bodily from his resting place. He's hauled into a sitting position with his back against someone's chest (and thankfully so, because Yew doesn't think he could sit upright on his own at the moment), while their hands slide down his arms to grab his own (at least, he assumes so. He still can't feel his hands), and their chin rests on the top of his head.

The individual (Magnolia, Yew assumes, because it's always her) holds him as his panic attack plays out. It's a long five minutes as Yew gradually gets his breathing under control, and enough feeling returns to his hands for him to feel an ache from how stiff they are and to feel Magnolia massaging them, pushing into his chilled flesh with wonderfully warm fingers as she tries to unlock his unresponsive fingers.

Yew can also feel his entire body gradually uncoiling. He didn't realize how tense he was everywhere, not just his hands. Leaning against Magnolia really isn't a choice at this point. Yew doesn't want to try and properly sit up for fear he'll topple forward and be unable to catch himself.

He's too emotionally exhausted to be embarrassed when Magnolia squeezes her thighs around his waist to keep him upright rather than letting him slouch. Eventually his hands start responding and Yew slowly flexes his fingers, relieved at being able to control them again even if they ache quite terribly from being clenched so tightly. Magnolia doesn't stop rubbing his hands when he starts moving them, though she does stop pressing quite so hard.

An nebulous amount of time passes before either of them make any other movements. It's well past when Yew's panic attack has gone away. At some point Magnolia removes her hands from his and wipes the tears from his face (it's the second time she's done that in as many days) and releases his waist from her legs. She makes sure he's steady before standing up and leaving for just a moment.

Yew waits in place, trying to get his messy thoughts in order, but he's tired. He really just wants to go back to sleep. Thankfully that seems to be exactly what Magnolia had in mind, because she returns with two thick blankets, nudges him into lying down on one of them, lies down next to him, and pulls the second blanket over both of them.

Yew is too tired to even attempt to parse the implications of her actions. Maybe this is significant, maybe not, maybe it's because his bedroll is sweat-soaked. He's just happy Magnolia is in easy arm's reach so he doesn't have to worry about waking up and being alone again. It only takes a few minutes after they've both settled for him to fall back asleep.

###

Yew wakes up in the morning to Magnolia poking his shoulder. The events of the night are fresh in his mind, and Yew resists the urge to sigh in disappointment at himself. Again, he's being a burden to his companions. It was bad enough that they have to deal with his physical issues, now Magnolia is dealing with his mental and emotional ones as well. At least he feels much more calm now.

"I have to be better." Yew thinks while going through his morning routine. "I can't be more of a burden than I already am."

Just like yesterday, Magnolia has Yew help with her hair. Yew doesn't mind, but he is confused. There's no reason he has to be involved, if she did it on her own it would surely be faster. When he's handed the hairbrush he dutifully, and carefully, brushes out her hair. He meticulously works through knots he finds, taking care to never tug or brute force his way past the problem.

It's a rather relaxing activity. He feels useful like this, even if he's just brushing hair, and even if it's slower than Magnolia doing it herself. It's also relaxing because Yew knows this is the one part of the day he won't constantly have someone's hands on him. It's not that he dislikes being touched… but the most physical contact he's had in the last ten years is being jostled around in school, sparring, or the occasional brief hug from Nikolai, so multiple hours of holding someone's hand (usually the hand of someone who he really doesn't want to mess up around) is just a little bit nerve-wracking.

The brushing doesn't last forever. At some point Magnolia judges he's done a good enough job (or maybe she's annoyed with how slow he's being) and plants some sort of bottle in his hand.

Yew remembers this from yesterday. She gave him the same thing. He thinks it's shampoo or soap, judging by the smell if he opens it, so he has no idea why he's being given it. Just like yesterday Magnolia cycles through items, occasionally taking the one in his hands and replacing it with something else.

With no real purpose for the items himself, Yew absently runs his fingers over them. It's better than mindless waiting, he supposes.

Eventually the flower is put into Yew's hands. He knows this means Magnolia is almost done with whatever she's doing. When the flower was taken out of his hands yesterday, he was sat down in a chair and got his hair brushed.

He's not sure if he wants that to happen again, or if he's mildly terrified of it happening again. It felt rather nice, especially when Magnolia massaged his head when applying some sort of soap or shampoo, but at the same time it's hard to sit still when that's happening. He keeps imagining Edea or Tiz watching them and how childish he must look, and it feels wrong to just sit there while Magnolia touches him (ball it, crush it, drop it, forget it). It feels unearned, it feels like something that shouldn't be happening but at the same time it feels so pleasant, and… and…

Yew exhales. He refuses to work himself up over this. It's just hair brushing. It's nothing important.

His heart rate still spikes when Magnolia takes the flower, and just like yesterday she sits him down in the chair. He tries to remain dignified as the brush slips through his hair, but he can feel his ears heating up. It's just a brush. It's just Magnolia being nice. So why does it feel so important? Why does it feel intimate? Why does it feel wrong and right at the same time? Why is it embarrassing?

Yew doesn't know. He can list every subspecies of snake in all of Harena, but he can't answer these few simple questions. So, not knowing what he's supposed to think or feel, he sits in that seat, probably red-faced, while Magnolia attends to his hair.

He wonders if she's humming as she works. Is she looking at the mirror to see his face? Does she enjoy this, or is she just being kind to him? How much of her limited supply of soap or shampoo is she wasting on him?

Speaking of shampoo, the brush has stopped going through his hair, and a moment later Magnolia's fingers are tangled in it, spreading the substance thoroughly.

He tries not to squirm too much as Magnolia massages his head. He's squirming not because it's uncomfortable, but because it's the exact opposite, it's very comfortable, and he doesn't want to make a fool of himself by showing it too obviously.

Because he'd look stupid, childish even, if he was obviously pleased by a head-rub… right?

At some point Magnolia stops messing with his hair in favor of washing it out (being able to use the wizard asterisk to create water is a wonderful thing), briefly attacks him with a towel, and then guides him outside.

Breakfast is normal, sight or no sight, hearing or no hearing. Yew scarfs down some of the rations (no soup today, unfortunately. Edea must have been responsible for breakfast) and then the group is on their way again.

Just like yesterday, Magnolia leads him the entire morning. She loops her arm through his, weaves their fingers together, and firmly ensures he's walking directly next to her. She's not allowing him to keep distance like yesterday.

"She's tired of all the stumbling I did yesterday." Yew thinks, disappointed in himself. "I was a burden."

Magnolia squeezes his hand. He still doesn't know what that's supposed to mean.

At the very least there are few incidents the first hour. Yew finds he seldom stumbles. The flatter terrain might help. They've entered an area that has level rock rather than sand dunes, and it's making things much easier.

However, not long into the morning the group's path starts to alter. Magnolia is constantly pulling him this way and that, weaving around obstacles Yew can't see. At some point she has him climb a steep rock surface, and it suddenly clicks with Yew that the group has stumbled onto the West Harena badlands. They must have travelled a bit further south than expected, because the badlands are flush against the mountains.

The badlands of West Harea are a curious study in geology, and thought to be the result of changing global weather patterns. It's thought that there used to be a major wind stream on Harena that blew from east to west, pushing sand across the desert and up against the west Harena mountains. That sand would settle and build up there in between major wind gusts combining with runoff from the mountain itself. This happened for a long time, tens of thousands or millions of years likely, until there was an abrupt shift in wind patterns. Suddenly, there was no longer an east-to-west major wind stream, and instead one from north to south. This new wind stream gradually sheared away all the loose sand and dirt, with only the material that had compacted over the years remaining, resulting in what is now known as the west Harena badlands.

When he says "major wind gusts", by the way, Yew means that with the mountains as the only thing to break up wind, most of the continent suffers from brutal, constant windstorms, not helped by the presence of the wind crystal. There's a reason Ancheim and the Wind Temple were built between large rocky outcrops, and Al-Khampis is shielded from the northern wind gusts by large rocky hills to the north and the more standard, dirt-covered hills it's built into.

"Not that any of that information is useful here." Yew thinks sadly. "And it's not like I could tell anyone anyways, even if it was useful."

The others are clearly having issues trying to navigate the maze of rock, because Magnolia has to turn him around multiple times so the group can backtrack.

At some point, someone decides they need to climb the rock hills again, probably to get a better view. Magnolia struggles in leading him up for about twenty seconds before deciding it's not worth the struggle. She spends a minute doing… something, and then straps her glaive to his back, and then promptly grabs both of his arms and hoists him onto her back. She must have given her own backpack to someone else.

That's a metaphor for his role in the group if Yew ever thought of one. Him being unable to climb and Magnolia carrying him.

Yew once again remembers that Edea and Tiz are probably looking at him right now, and resists the urge to hide his face in Magnolia's shoulder. What must they think of him right now? He can imagine Edea rolling her eyes at him right now, and Tiz is probably silently judging.

Yew tries to squirm free of Magnolia, but that only results in Magnolia grabbing his arms to keep him on her back. It occurs to Yew that he doesn't know how close to the edge of a cliff Magnolia is, and he promptly stops moving. He doesn't want to get Magnolia hurt.

It's hard to tell which direction he's moving while being carried. He can vaguely tell when Magnolia turns, but only because of a slight twist in her body. He has no idea how much she's turning though, so his internal compass is thrown off almost immediately.

Without the need to actually focus on movement, Yew's focus begins to wane and his mind starts to wander. He wonders if Magnolia has done something like this before, because she's keeping her balance rather well.

He's also surprised at the muscle he can feel on her. He expected her to be soft (not that he's ever given that more than a passing thought!), and to an extent she is, but it's hard not to notice the way her muscles flex in his hips as she walks, or in her back and shoulders when she moves her arms.

(Ball it, crush it, drop it, forget it.)

"Maybe I need to get more in shape." Yew considers. "I don't know if I could carry someone around like this for very long. Maybe I should ask about Magnolia's training routine when I can talk again."

Then again, the thought of trying a soldier's workout routine is just a bit daunting. Yew's never been in an army, but he knows for a fact that army training is absolutely brutal, and the training of the army of almost any country is far and above more taxing than any similar job like the Crystalguard.

S-So maybe he'll just ask about her training and take some pointers rather than trying to take it on, or maybe he can join Sir Tiz. His routine is probably less intense. Also he doesn't want to let Magnolia see just how incapable he really is.

Magnolia suddenly stops, and he can feel her bend into a crouch. Her hand comes up past his head to draw her glaive off his back, and she nudges him with her free hand. Yew gets the message and slides off her. Then Tiz (he can tell because it's not Magnolia, but there's a distinct lack of metal gauntlets) grabs his hand and pulls him away from whatever is happening.

Yew has to remind himself not to run. He can feel rock under his feet, which means they're probably on top of one of the stone hills in the badlands and he doesn't want to fall. The fact that there's almost certainly combat behind him doesn't exactly help though.

Tiz leads him away, a bit down the side of a hill, then has him sit down. Then Tiz leaves, and Yew is all alone, sitting in rocks, with no sound and no sight, and only gnawing anticipation and worry to keep himself company.

No, the West Harena badlands are not an actual thing in-game, but I can't very well make a story out of "the group does nothing but walk across a desert for ten chapters". Or, well, maybe I can, but I don't want to.