A/N - I refer to this one as Lost part two, but really it is more part one and the previous one was part two. I wrote both parts at the same time, switching from one to the other, and sort of forgot which prompts went with which bit, so the previous prompts actually fit this one better, oh well. I hope you like it regardless!

Thank you to The anomalous and HistorianKate for the follows and GuestM and JanetM74 for the reviews! You're all awesome!

No. 21 – Hypothermia / Infection

Companion to no. 20 (Lost / Field Medicine)

Merlin clutched his leg. It was bleeding thickly, oozing down his calf. He cursed. This was just his bloody luck. Why had he turned down Lancelot's offer to join him?

He placed his hand over the wound, pulling his magic to his fingers.

"Þurhhæle dolgbenn."

The spell did nothing. He tried again. Still nothing. He'd never been very good at healing spells.

He reached up and yanked his neckerchief off, tying it tightly around the wound. That would have to do. And at least he still had the bag of herbs he'd been collecting for Gaius. He knew he had yarrow and wild garlic in there. He'd have to find some water and wash the wound then he could make a poultice and strap his leg up so that he would manage the walk – limp – back to Camelot.

Slinging the bag of herbs over his shoulder, he pulled himself upright on a tree, gasping and collapsing against it when pain shot up his leg. Perhaps the injury was worse than he had first suspected.

Holding onto trees as much as he could, Merlin followed the sound of rushing water, hoping it was actually a stream and not just the rushing of his heartbeat in his head. By the time he found the small stream he was gasping and short of breath, his chest aching along with his leg.

It was a relatively small stream, about a yard wide and only a few feet deep, but the banks on either side were quite steep. He sat and shuffled down the incline slowly, carefully holding onto the vines that trailed over the ground.

He slipped, skinning his palm and landing with his feet in the water. The rocks on the riverbed were slick and his good foot slid out from under him. With all of his weight supported on his bad leg, he crumpled.

The water was deeper than it seemed, his head plunged under and he fought desperately to get it back up again. Freezing water had rushed into his mouth as he cried out in surprise.

Coughing and gasping he pushed up with both arms, ignoring the sting in his grazed hand. He clawed frantically at the bank, grabbing fistfuls of mud and leaves but nothing strong enough to haul himself out with. His legs were beginning to feel numb and the cold seeped into his chest.

The water buffeted him, keeping him from managing to take deep breath. Gritting his teeth against the pain he forced his legs to push him out of the water. Groaning and trying not to scream he inched further up the bank. His hand found a tree root. The effort to pull himself up with the tree root sent him into a coughing fit, pain lancing from his shoulders and shaking arms. His teeth were chattering by the time he finished coughing and tears leaked from his squeezed closed eyes. His clothes were soaked through and his whole body shuddered.

He lay panting on the bank, his face pressed into the damp earth, too weak to lift his head. Everything hurt. He let his eyes slip closed.

A violent shiver shook his body and Merlin wrenched his eyes open. It was beginning to get dark and he needed to get warm. Cursing under his breath, he tried to sit up and look around. There was an overturned tree further down the bank, its uprooted base forming a small hollow. Perfect for an injured person to shelter in. If only he could get there.

He tried to stand again but there was no way his injured leg was going to hold him. He'd have to crawl. He whimpered, wishing again that he had Lancelot with him. Taking a deep breath, he began crawling towards the hollow. His vision was clouded by blackness around the edges, but he fought through the wooziness in his head. As long as he could get to the shelter of the hollow and make a fire he would be alright.

He kept telling himself that as he crawled, inching along at a stupidly slow pace, struggling to keep breathing as he shivered and winced.

His breath left him in a relieved huff as he reached the fallen tree. He propped himself up against the upturned roots and moaned. His eyes wanted to fall closed, his head was heavy and the pain in his leg was burning. His head drooped to his chest.

"Forbærnan."

The word slipped from his quivering lips, pooling fire in the palm of his hand. He instantly felt a little better. He gathered together some leaves and twigs and poured the flames from his hand onto the kindling. It crackled to life merrily.

The heavy weight of his wet jacket was pulling his shoulders down, the chill seeping deeper into his back. He pulled the jacket off, spreading it on the ground beside the fire to dry it out.

He shivered again, his teeth clacking together. Merlin tried to curl into a ball, pulling his good leg up against his chest and wrapping his arms around it. Shuffling closer to the fire he could feel its heat prickling his skin. His eyes drooped again.

Merlin wasn't aware that he'd fallen asleep, but a sound brought him painfully back to consciousness. His head was woozy. It took a while for him to work out where he was. His blurry gaze showed him forest, a dwindling fire and building rainclouds. Why wasn't he in Camelot?

Attempting to move sent searing pain along his leg and a pounding in his head. He gasped and cried out, grasping his leg. The sight of his bloodstained neckerchief reminded him that he had been trying to clean the wound when he fell in the river. He pulled himself upright, his head swimming and tried to blink his eyes into focus.

Grit and mud had got underneath his makeshift bandage as he'd dragged his useless leg along. He pulled the neckerchief off, turning it in his shaking hands until he found a bit that looked cleaner than the rest. He used that edge to try and wipe some of the grime away from the open gash.

The pain that flared when he touched the raw edges of the wound almost made him pass out again. The skin around it was red and hot.

That wound is infected, he heard Gaius's voice say at the back of his mind. He groaned. There was no way he'd manage to get back to the stream and wash it now.

He tried to mumble a healing spell but couldn't get the words right, they were too jumbled in his head. His magic swirled around inside him, making him feel queasy. Pressing the heel of his hands against his temples, Merlin looked around, trying to stop his head reeling for long enough to work out what to do. He noticed his bag was still slung around his chest. He could have cried.

Fishing in the bag he pulled out leaves and herbs, hoping he would be able to correctly identify them. The smell of the wild garlic was easy to recognise and he pulled the small plant out. Followed by sage and yarrow.

Using two stones he found in the ground, he mashed the garlic cloves then spread them on the cleanest part of his neckerchief. He chewed the yarrow leaves, wincing and screwing up his eyes at the astringent taste and spat the pulp onto his neckerchief, mixing it with the garlic mash. He ripped the sage leaves and sprinkled them on top then pressed the herb poultice onto the wound on his leg. It stung as he tied the cloth tightly.

His breathing was too fast and coming out in harsh gasps by the time he'd finished but he was satisfied that he'd done the best he could in the situation. Now he just had to gather his strength and find a way back home.

Letting out a soft chuckle at the simplicity of it, Merlin sagged down to the floor, finally giving in to the oblivion that filled his head.

A/N - As always, chuck me a review to let me know what you thought, I love hearing from everyone!