Fever
This time, Yennefer is not woken up by aching joints or creepy-crawly wildlife, nor by any annoying noises coming from her travelling companion, but by the nagging growl of her painfully empty stomach. Damn, when was the last time she's had anything to eat? If she had known she would end up stuck in a cave with no food whatsoever, she would have stuffed herself at yesterday's dinner, before they left for the old ruin. For the execution. But as her nerves were all in knots then, she didn't eat a thing. How stupid. Her only and rather scant consolation being the fact that the Nilfgaardian is not any better off, maybe even worse considering that he probably has not had a proper meal in weeks, Yennefer opens her eyes and sits up. Light is still filtering in through the cave's entrance, so she cannot have slept that long. Looks like it's only early afternoon. She turns around. Cahir is still out, slumped against the rock wall. Which does not look particularly comfortable. More worrying though is that, from what she can see in the dim light, he is shivering badly. Yennefer is not feeling exactly warm either, but it is not that cold inside the cave. At least here they are sheltered from the biting wind and drizzling rain. The Nilfgaardian's teeth are chattering softly, too. Fuck.
When Yennefer feels Cahir's forehead, it is much too hot and sweaty for her liking. Definitely worse than the evening before. His breathing is laboured, too, and his pulse too fast. Shit, shit, shit. OK, what can she do without any resources, no diagnostic spells, healing spells, any spells at all, no potions, no means to make potions, not even a simple blanket to keep the man warm? Even if she found some driftwood for a fire, she would not be able to light it without flint and tinder. Moreover, the smoke from a fire might draw unwanted attention to their hideout. Maybe start with something easy, like make him more comfortable? As she grabs Cahir by the shoulder and around his waist to move him further away from the rock wall, he starts to stir and cough painfully.
"Cahir? Are you awake?"
He grunts in between coughs, nods his head weakly and tries to sit up, the broken chain of the iron manacles still attached to his wrists making a jangling noise against the rock.
"'m OK," he mumbles hoarsely.
"No, you are fucking NOT," Yennefer chides. The man really is annoying. "Get your ass over here and lie down. And stay down, understood? I'll get you something to drink." Yennefer helps the shaking and chattering Nilfgaardian into a more comfortable sleeping position, then goes to fetch some water. Only, how take it back to the cave? Standing in the cave's entrance, Yennefer cautiously scans for boats or any signs of possible pursuers first, but the coast is clear. Then she looks around the beach. Maybe a nice, big shell or a hollowed out stone or piece of driftwood? There are some shells, but, of course, none is big enough to fill with more than a sip or two of water. Damn it. She'll have to think of something else, but what? At a loss for ideas, she first drinks some water herself, then rips another strip of cloth from the hemline of her dress and wets it under the waterfall.
When Yennefer returns with the wet cloth, Cahir is fast asleep again. She places the drenched piece of fabric on his sweaty brow and sighs. Taking care of the sick is not exactly her field of expertise, nor anything she has ever wanted to do. That is Triss' speciality. She so wishes her friend was here now with her knowledge, her herbs and potions, her magic, or, at least, a simple waterskin. Yennefer looks around in the dimly lit cave, when suddenly her gaze falls on Cahir's leather boot which she has left lying about in a corner after removing it from his injured foot. No, she cannot possibly - no way! The thought alone is so gross, the sorceress shudders with disgust. But is there any alternative? Fuck it. Nobody ever needs to know, right? She grabs the boot. It's well-worn, pretty dirty and - smelly. Hopefully, it is at least sufficiently watertight.
Luckily it is. Yennefer fills the boot several times and shakes it vigorously to rinse it as thoroughly as possible under the waterfall before filling it up to the brim with fresh water. That should be enough for the both of them for a while. When she carefully takes a sip, it tastes a little of moss and leather, but actually not as bad as imagined. Still, the thought of having to drink from an old army boot, a Nilfgaardian on top of it all - how fucked up could things possibly get?
Back in the cave she checks on Cahir again. He is shivering and shaking badly in his sleep, worse than before, the wet cloth already feeling almost as hot as his face. Yennefer uses a little of the cold water to wet it again. And, while she's on it, she also wets the cloth around his swollen ankle. There is not much else she can do at the moment, is there? Besides lying down next to him and trying to warm the man a little. She is not really tired, but well, there is nothing here to do anyway. Another deep-drawn sigh. This is going to be a very long and tidious couple of days ...
Come evening, Cahir's fever has gone up even more, his brow hotter than ever. He is sweating profusely, his shirt and pants drenched with sweat, and raving. About a fire. Well, that is not surprising after what happened at Sodden and the fact that he is burning up with fever. There is more though, something about a mission he has to complete. And an ashen-haired girl. Maybe the one this morning's nightmare was about? This is - intriguing. If the fever lasts a while, maybe she'll find out who this mysterious girl is. And what the mission is about. On the other hand, Yennefer wishes with all her heart that Cahir recovers quickly. This whole situation is definitely not fun. Not at all.
"Cahir, wake up, you need to drink." In the few short moments the Nilfgaardian was awake during the afternoon, Yennefer managed to get some water into her sick companion with the help of a scallop shell but it was probably far from enough. She gently shakes him by the shoulders. He blinks, then opens his eyes. They are bright with fever.
"Mawr?" he croaks weakly.
Yennefer holds his head up a little and puts the water-filled seashell to Cahir's hot face. Damn it. He's got so much fucking hair. Several sweat-soaked strands of it are plastered across his face, and then there is this awful, shaggy beard, it's not easy to find his dry lips in the twilight of the cave. She adjusts the shell a little and he drinks the few sips thirstily. Yennefer scoops more water from the boot and repeats the procedure several times. Suddenly Cahir looks at her with glazed eyes and tries to sit up, alarmed.
"I-I have to go. The girl, I have to find her. The Great Sun-"
"Shhh," Yennefer soothes, pressing his shoulders back toward the sand. "The Great Sun will have to do without you for a while. Go back to sleep." Closing his eyes obediently and lying back down without resistance, Cahir does as he is told. Not a good sign.
The high fever lasts the entire night and the next day. Yennefer hardly gets any sleep between fetching fresh water, shell-feeding it to her sick companion, wiping his sweaty face, cooling his sprained ankle and calming him down when he is caught up in his fever dreams. Several of which seem to be about that mysterious ashen-haired girl again. And there is some gibberish about a - Doppler? Other dreams are easier to understand, the disastrous Battle of Sodden Hill, the Aretuza dungeon and torture, the execution. Enough material to fill a whole book of nightmares. At least, now in the daylight, her tasks are a lot easier to carry out than they were during the night when it was almost pitch dark in the cave and she had to grope around for everything, almost exclusively relying on her hearing and her tactile sense. She was very lucky that she did not break any bones while stumbling over rocks and boulders on her way to the waterfall, too. Without the silvery light of the moon, she would surely have ended up with at least a sprained ankle or wrist. On the other hand, by night she did not have to worry about anybody spotting her on the beach ...
At dusk, when Cahir is finally a little better and lucid enough to recognise Yennefer and drink his fill of water on his own, only slightly raising his eyebrow at the more than unusual drinking vessel the witch is passing over to him, the two fugitives are both so completely drained - the Nilfgaardian from the harrowing fever, the sorceress from tending to her sick companion - that they quickly fall fast asleep in the black sand and the almost comforting darkness of their little cave.