Kella crossed the room, almost unaware she was on her tiptoes. When she realised she was walking on her toes, she quickly let her heels touch the ground, it taking willpower for her to walk with a dull thumping on the wood floor of the safe house.
She looked out the window into the dark night for the thousandth time that night, pulling her cloak around her more tightly.
"He'll come," a voice rasped from the corner. She spun quickly, a faint, slightly forced smile appearing on her face as she saw Pavo watching her through bloodshot eyes, her own expressing the emotions her smile tried to cover.
She crossed back over to his bed quickly, but by the time she reached it, the effort of keeping his eyes open had been too much for the boy, and his eyelids had slid shut.
She watched him, a lump growing in her throat. He was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was too hard for her to contemplate, her hands twisted around each other to keep herself from trying to heal him again. She'd tried endless times, but she knew it was hopeless. Unless she could get rid of the rotting disease, prolonging Pavo's pain wasn't fair. And no healer in the world had a cure for the rotting disease.
She sighed heavily, reaching out to run a hand through Pavo's soft hair, his scalp as hot as the rest of him. He fought his eyelids again, raising his eyes to watch her. He took a deep, shaky breath, and swallowed. He wet his lips with his tongue, and opened his mouth.
"Thankyou," He rasped. Kella shook her head, not trusting her voice, and laid a cool hand on his hot cheek.
"You-you would have done the same," she replied. He took another deep breath. Understanding he wanted to say more, Kella knelt beside his bed, her palm still on his cheek. He lay his head on it, so Kella was supporting it, holding it in its pose facing her.
"Tell... the teknoguild... about... the city... under tor," he gasped, and stopped to catch his breath. Kella nodded wordlessly. "I'm... I'm sorry."
Kella gasped as his head lolled to the side, heavily, onto her hand, his face paler than ever before, before she realised that he was sleeping. 'Good!' she thought, 'It'll do him some good to get some rest.'
She then realised the error of her thoughts. Do him some good? He didn't need good. What would good do for him now? He was on the brink of death, much as she hated to think it.
She glanced over at him, his face pale and sweaty, his limbs turnig purplish, the thin trickle of blood from his lips the only indication of the pain and destruction his insides were going through. She swallowed and reached to the low table beside his bed, picking up the wet cloth and wiping the blood from his mouth. He didn't stir, not until she tried to slide her hand from underneath his cheek. In an effort that must have taken all his remaining strength, he reached over and lay his hand on her arm. The action was easy to understand. She stayed as she was.
She was in the same position when, a few hours later, Domick entered the safe house. He removed his cloak, then noticed Kella, sitting beside Pavo, her hand supporting his face. She turned, her own cheeks tearstained and her eyes as bloodshot as Pavo's had been.
The question in Domick's eyes was unmistakable, and Kella nodded, before crossing the room once more to bury her face in Domick's shirt, enveloped in his embrace, and cry for the loss of the Teknoguilder.