"Friend"
Sim set down the heavy supplies and watched as Nerilka disappeared into the camp, slumped beneath her burden. Her head was down, her shoulders drooped as she shuffled awkwardly, in imitation of an overworked drudge. What was she thinking? Didn't she realize that there were sick people in there?
Sim's companions left, returning to the Hold but still he waited. Wasn't Nerilka coming back? She hadn't even said "goodbye." He felt a dull hurt as he slowly turned back toward the Hold, his feet stirring up dust. Wasn't Nerilka his friend? He had always thought so.