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Chapter 7: A Good Friend to Have

When Adara woke up, the day seemed no different than the ones before.

As usual, she saw Patroclus putting on his armor when she opened her eyes. He had set out a platter of bread, cheese, and fruit on on the table for her. After a quick farewell, he left and Adara occupied her mind, quizzing herself so as not to forget any of her healing, and simply getting lost in thought. She was grateful that now she could go outside.

Patroclus had not been fond of the idea because men often remained in camp to keep watch, but he knew it was ridiculous to have her stay in the tent day after day. After a week, she had been thinking about being cooped up, and was surprised when Patroclus proposed they go for a walk that evening so she could get some fresh air and stretch her legs. "I would have suggested it a few days ago, but I wanted to make sure things have died down since your arrival." In response to Adara's slightly open mouth, he continued, "And we'll only be able to remain around the Myrmidon camp. Sorry, but it's best-"

"It's perfect," Adara interrupted. Her eyes shined with a happiness Patroclus had never seen before, and when she asked if they could walk by the water, he couldn't say no.

He was a less keen when she asked, three days later, if she could go outside by herself. "I'll stay down by the water," she said while making her case. "And everyone is fighting during the day." He kept his arms crossed. "I'd just like to be out before the sun sets, when it's still high in the sky and warm on the sand..." She trailed off, embarrassed to be asking and to have gotten slightly carried away.

He saw the way she clasped her hands together and looked down at her feet. Inwardly, he sighed. "Keep out of sight."

Four days had since passed, and the fact that she had encountered no problems with any of the men was what assured Patroclus she was safe during the day. She walked along through the camp, around the tents and to the sand dunes where she could see the water. Watching the waves break on the shore the way they always did reminded her that she wasn't that far from home.

It was late afternoon by the time Adara arrived back at the tent. She'd lost track of time, and had to take extra cautions to avoid being seen by the watchmen; she was not used to whatever guard pattern they had at this time of evening.

She let out a relieved breath when she made it back to the tent and was able to sit down, plucking grapes off the stem. Noticing the sun's position on the horizon, she wasn't surprised she was so hungry. She was just glad Patroclus wasn't back yet; she didn't know how he would react to her being out so long.

Then she thought it again: Patroclus wasn't back yet. By this time, he should have been in the tent for a while. Disturbed, she waited, because he was probably just late and would walk into the tent at any minute.

But he didn't, not even after an hour had passed. Immediately, she began to fear the worst, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. She sat on her bed, staring at the tent flap, willing it to move.

When there was more darkness than light in the sky and she needed to light the candles in the tent, Adara could no longer convince herself that it was nothing. When she saw the torches and great fire pits outside light up, she gave into worry.

A vision flashed before her eyes, one that chilled her blood and made involuntarily hug her knees to her chest. But the image stuck in her mind: Patroclus, surrounded by a pool of his own blood, his face pale, his bright blue eyes unseeing...

She contributed to fear the way her heart hammered. His body would be found and he would have the proper burial, with coins over his eyes for Charon. But what would become of her? He was so kind to her, having never once pressured her the way she had assumed she would be. Her thoughts drifted to Arcos, and she realized just how much she needed Patroclus.

Drowning in her worry, Adara didn't notice someone was near until she heard voices right outside.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back? Something could have opened up for you."

"We both know that did not happen," Patroclus grumbled. Adara's heart leapt in her chest even though she registered how tired and strained his voice was. "There are plenty more men worse off than I am. The only difference between waiting here and waiting there is that here is more comfortable. Speaking of comfortable, where's my armor?"

"Achilles took it upon himself to clean it. He removed it when you were unconscious."

The tent flap opened, and Adara saw Patroclus enter slowly, leaning much of his weight against Eudorus. His arm was draped across Eudorus's shoulder for support, and his head and chest were almost completely bare, except for the lower right part of his torso, where there was a blood soaked bandage. And protruding from the center of the bandage, still embedded in Patroclus' body, was an arrow.

Instantly, Adara jumped up from her seat on her bed, dragging blankets around to make one large place for him to comfortably rest. Eudorus helped him lay down there, and she rolled up some blankets so his head was slightly elevated.

When he was settled, Adara finally spoke out. "Why haven't you gotten that taken care of?" Eudorus blinked in astonishment at her forwardness.

"Eudorus looked at it." Patroclus pointed to the bandage, now completely drenched in crimson. "See?"

Adara raised her eyebrows at the cloth, which all of them knew was an unacceptable alternative to medicine. She tried again. "Why haven't you gotten that healed?"

"The infirmary is entirely full. And compared to some of the men, my wounds are practically nonexistent."

Adara had no doubt that there were Greek soldiers in agony, but she also knew that Patroclus winced every time he shifted his position, though he tried to hide it. "That arrow is not nonexistent."

"It can wait until morning."

She took in his appearance. He was pale and shaky from loss of blood, and from possible infection. His bright blue eyes didn't have their usual light in them, and he looked feverish. She knelt beside him and felt his forehead and cheeks, sensing the heat that should not have been there. "You can't wait that long." His mouth set in a grim line and told her that he knew that. She let a moment of silence pass before she brought up her suggestion. "Would you allow me to do it?"

Patroclus met her gaze but remained quiet, thinking. She couldn't tell what was going through his mind.

"Do what?" Eudorus asked, forgotten.

She didn't take her eyes off of Patroclus, who still hadn't said anything, as she replied, "Heal him."

"Can you do that?" he asked. Then, quieter, to Patroclus, even though she could still hear him clearly, "Can she do that?"

Finally, Patroclus spoke. "Yes. She can. And I think she should."

"Are you sure?" Eudorus asked, checking that the young man had thought this through, considering that maybe blood loss had affected his judgement.

"Yes." His eyes never left hers. "I trust her."

Eudorus opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to argue, Adara quickly stated, "I'm going to need some things."

Patroclus didn't give him an opportunity to speak either. "Please, Eudorus, bring her what she needs."

Eudorus was quick gathering the necessities Adara asked for. She pealed back the bandage, and though it was worse than she would have liked, she saw it was better than she had expected; she knew infection could set in fast in this heat, and six hours was more than enough time for something to start. She felt immensely relieved to see that only the edges of the wound were red and inflamed. It was warm to the touch, as was his forehead, but those were the only signs of infection.

"Where's the cloth?" she asked Eudorus, intent on her patient.

She held out her hand for it, and a moment later, it was in her grasp. "Why do you need it?" he asked, questioning her as he had been since he returned. "You haven't even removed the arrow yet."

"I need it," she replied curtly. Then to Patroclus she said, "Here. Bite down on this."

"Wait!" Eudorus cried. Only Patroclus saw Adara's face as she breathed in and out deeply. "Why does he need to bite down? What are you doing?"

Through gritted teeth, Adara grumbled, "I'm taking the arrow out, and it's not exactly going to be pleasant for him."

"Actually, none of this is very pleasant for me right now." He put the cloth in his mouth and nodded to Adara, signaling her to continue. Then he shot a pleading look at Eudorus, who remained silent after.

Before Eudorus could find some reason to interrupt her again, she took hold of the arrow, breaking off most of the wood. Patroclus winced, but refrained from making any sounds that would give his watchful friend an excuse to question Adara's abilities. Now she could see the arrow head, and though it was securely lodged and stuck in his side, it was not deep enough to have penetrated any organs.

"I guess that's a good sign?" Patroclus asked in a quiet, strained voice when he saw the relieved smile on her face. She nodded, picked up another piece of cloth, grasped the head, and pulled it out.

Somewhere between Patroclus's shocked and pained yelp and Eudorus's cry of, "What did you do?" Adara set aside the arrow head and was now applying pressure to the open wound.

"Patroclus, can you keep your hand on that?" she asked, referring to the cloth she was pressing to his side. Talking must have pained him, so he simply nodded and took over for her there. With free hands, she pulled some blood rose petals from the selection of medicines Eudorus had brought her, added water and and milled the mixture with a mortar and pestle. She spread the resulting paste over the hole in Patroclus's side. All three watched as the pale pink paste slowed the flow of the blood.

Now that the blood was clotted, Adara reached for the turmac and lonwart. While Eudorus boiled water over the fire pit outside for her, Adara grounded up the turmac and added small amounts of warm water to it, continuously stirring until she had a thick, beige blend.

She covered the wound with a heavy coat of it, and the scent reached Patroclus' nose. "That smells terrible," he said.

"Yes," she agreed. Patroclus expected her to add some confusing medicinal talk, so he smiled when she said, "I know. It's foul."

When Eudorus returned, she dropped some lonwart leaves into the steaming water and covered it with cloth, letting it steep for a few minutes. In the meantime, she applied a bit more of the turmac past, then had Eudorus help her wrap a large, thick, heavy bandage fully around Patroclus' torso.

"You're not going to stitch it together?" Eudorus asked.

Adara took a calming breath. Even though she'd had a few minutes respite from his doubting her, it was just as annoying as when he was doing it before. She understood he did not know or trust her and her abilities, even if Patroclus did. If there had not been a spoken skepticism, there was at least a minor hesitation before he did anything she asked him to do. Not many things bothered her, but the lateness of the hour and lack of food in her stomach combined with the constant questioning of her abilities, was truly a test of her patience. And it was a test she was failing.

"No. I need to wait until the infection clears," she explained. Of course, there was a delay as he thought about the legitimacy of the statement. But he must have found it suitable, because he nodded. As he gently helped Patroclus back down on the blankets, he asked if there was anymore he could do. "No," she replied bluntly as she washed her hands.

"You can tell Achilles that I'm perfectly fine," Patroclus added, his tone calming for the other two. Eudorus nodded, suddenly at ease, and Adara remembered what she knew about Achilles's temper. If anything had happened to Patroclus, it would be Eudorus left to face the warrior's wrath.

Immediately, she felt a little regret at being so curt to him. "Thank you for your help," she said as he pulled back the flap. At that moment, she wasn't sure who was giving her a stranger look, Patroclus or Eudorus. Whomever, it was Eudorus who recovered first.

"Thank you as well."

As he left, Patroclus commented, "I believe you made a friend." He had seen how annoyed Adara had been earlier and was relieved by the lack of tension that had been left. "You do know he was just worried."

"Yes," she replied. She brought him the tea and sat down next to him. She handed him the cup and continued, "I know that now. It was just that everything was a little stressful for everyone and -" She caught him warily looking at and sniffing the liquid, prompting her to ask, "What are you doing?"

He nodded at the turmac paste and then to his tea. "Not even the gods know what kind of sorcery you're going to give me next." He smiled, letting her know it was a joke. Seeing as she just healed him, he had the utmost respect for her craft.

Adara had always hated it when people referred to the art of healing as witchcraft, even in jest. For better or worse, she wanted people to know what she could do. But she didn't stop to think about it when Patroclus said anything, because for some reason it didn't bother her. Instead, she watched in amusement as he tested the tea. It tasted bitter, but it was no where nearly as bad as the turmac.

"You don't like it, do you?" she asked when she saw the corners of his mouth turn down as he swallowed.

At her dejected face, he shook his head. "No, no. It's fine," he lied, worrying he might insult her, as if it was her cooking.

A smile spread across her face and she laughed. "Your lying is almost as rotten as that paste," she said. "Lonwart is disgusting. I have yet to meet a person who does like it."

Realizing he hadn't offended her, he chuckled, but still didn't know what to say. "I'm...sorry?"

Again, she laughed. "Don't apologize to me. You're the one who has to drink it all."

He looked down at the cup, bracing himself for another mouthful.

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