Whumpay day 7- (alt prompts) Passing out from pain & Fever induced delirium
Continuation of my Day 6 fill. This got away from me.
Rowan ran through the forest, sticks and rocks digging into her paws, she didn't care. She couldn't let herself slow down, no matter how frantically her heart was beating, or how much she panted and gasped for air. Her limbs were still sore from her most recent growth spurt, and now they were all different lengths than she was used to, making running quickly even harder.
She had just gotten a little lost, was all. She wasn't even that far away from the den. That's why the trap had been so unexpected. She hadn't been caught in it for very long when the man had come to check his traps.
Well. He said they were werewolf hunter's traps, in a way that made it sound like they weren't his traps. Even though he had been the one checking them. Maybe he just lived nearby, and knew where the hunters set their traps, and he sabotages them by releasing all the wolves they caught.
Yeah. That was probably it.
Coming up with that theory made room to focus on other thoughts, which were, somewhat unfairly, running through her head faster than she could run through the underbrush.
But the most important thought was a constant ringing alarm she could not ignore.
THERE ARE HUNTERS! THERE ARE HUNTERS WITHIN WANDERING DISTANCE OF THE DEN!
She was coming up on the edge of the Hearthstone pack's territory. She barked as loudly as she could, which was honestly pitiful with how winded she was. Her legs were turning to mush, and if she thought about them at all, she was sure they would give out under her before she made it to anyone who could help, even as she could smell the breakfast Mirza was cooking.
Rowan tumbled out of her shift next to the cooking fire and put her hands on her knees, heaving.
"Mirza!" she huffed. "Where's Lada? Its—" breathing was painful, "super important."
"Pup, what—?" The older woman trailed off as she saw the state Rowan was in. "I'll go get her, you sit tight. Drink some water." She handed Rowan a water gourd as she stood up. Rowan nodded, and allowed herself to fall to the ground. She spilled a lot of the water as her hands shook, both from the exertion and the adrenaline flooding out of her. But it was cool, and her throat was so dry.
"Rowan?" Mirza was on her way back, Lada right at her side. Her eyes skated right over where Rowan was a pile of limbs on the ground.
"Here," she groaned, then forced herself to stand to greet her pack alpha properly, even if Lada was her aunt. This was important, so she should act accordingly. She bowed her head, exposing the back of her neck. "Alpha," she started.
"Where have you been?" Lada said, gripping the back of her neck, accepting the formal greeting. She smushed Rowan's face into her sternum. Then she grabbed her shoulders and shoved her away to inspect her for injuries. Rowan was back to being smushed before she knew it, though. "Dimitri is getting frantic, you have been gone for who knows how long, we woke up and you weren't there, and you didn't tell anyone where you were going!"
Rowan used to think Lada and Dima worried too much. Their parents, her grandparents, had been killed by hunters. But that was so long ago, no one had seen any hunters, and hardly any humans at all in Rowan's whole life.
She did not think they worried too much now.
"I just wanted to go for a run before it got hot," she started, wanting to cushion the bad news with something normal, something reasonable.
"You have to tell someone!" Lada started on her normal lecture. "There are bears out there, there could be—" She cut herself off. She must have seen something in Rowan's face.
"Hunters," Rowan said softly, finishing Lada's sentence and confessing all in one word.
The blood drained from the alpha's face.
"Oh, gods," Mirza gasped. She was covering her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. She was old enough to remember Hearthstone's last interactions with werewolf hunters. She was one of their oldest pack members, in part because so many had died during the last times hunters had come to these woods.
Rowan had never really considered what that meant. She knew hunters were dangerous, of course, but they had always seemed so far off, as real of a threat as ghosts. No one had seen a hunter in twenty years, not even any of nomadic packs they traded with. When she was younger, it had seemed so long ago, and then she had stopped really thinking about it.
"They're really close, maybe a mile or two west—"
"How close did you get to them, they didn't see you did they?" Lada was starting to shake.
Rowan gulped. "I, uh, got… Igotcaughtinoneoftheirsnares." She didn't want to look at Lada's face. If she did, she didn't know how fast she'd be able to get out the rest of her information.
"A nice man found me, and let me out!"
"What." Lada sounded dangerous.
"He told me that it was a hunter's trap, and he cast a spell on me to keep me safe from them."
"You let an unknown mage cast a spell on you? Who knows what spell that was!"
Rowan's stomach sank. What if it wasn't a protection spell at all?? What if it was a tracking spell that would lead a whole camp full of hunters straight to their den?
"It's alright, pup," Lada said, softening her voice a little. There was still a hard edge to it. She ran her fingers through Rowan's hair. "Mirza, call a meeting. Rowan, go get some breakfast."
"What? I can help? You expect me to eat at a time like this?"
"Pup, right now, you need to keep your strength up. I have to make a plan, and inform the adults of the situation. If we have any more questions, someone will come get you."
Actually… breakfast didn't sound too bad. And Rowan's knees were knocking together from the adrenaline crash, and the idea of explaining the events (and her mistakes) of the morning did sound really awful. She nodded into Lada's chest, where she was being half smushshed again.
Eskender had caned Jaime's legs raw, and left him tied to a fence post in the summer sun to burn, but neither of those punishments were as poetic as sewing his mouth shut for using his voice to protect a wolf. Jaime tried to be grateful that the creativity had stopped there, but it was exceedingly difficult to dredge up any feelings at all when every twitch of his face had his lips in agony. He was basically one solid mass of pain at this point.
The hunters had taken a break for lunch, after the mouth thing, before the caning, and he supposed, during the sunburn, and someone, he hadn't been paying enough attention to tell who, had asked about how Jaime was supposed to eat or drink without a mouth. Eskender had responded, "He can eat again when he earns back his mouth privileges." That had gotten a round of raucous laughter. It wasn't even really a joke. It was probably Dilip who asked. Very food motivated, Dilip.
They mostly left him to roast, but after dinner, after most of the hunters had headed off to bed, a couple drunkenly stumbled over to him. Tulio and Clem, who hadn't really had a chance to torment him today. Joy.
"Thirsty, little mage?" He sneered.
Jamie was half kneeling, half sprawled out, his arms wrapped around a fence post. His hands were bound with a thick rope, in between the rails, so he couldn't move away, even if he had the energy to stand up. Tulio grabbed a fistful of Jaime's hair and yanked his head back, so he was staring up and behind at the two hunters. It, like everything, Jaime was finding, tugged at the stitches. He swallowed a wince, because that would also tug at the stitches. Eskender really out did himself this time.
Clem was fumbling with a water skin, his drunk brain making his fingers uncoordinated. Jamie closed his eyes. there was nothing he could do to prevent this from happening.
Sure enough, as soon as Clem could figure out the impossibly difficult cork, warm water poured all over Jamie's face. The only orifice it got in was his nose, obviously, which made his instincts want to splutter and cough, which he suppressed as best he could. It didn't even do him the service of washing the dried blood off his chin. It just sort of, re-hydrated it, made it tacky again.
Clem must have been really wasted, because that simple cruelty sent him to a laughing fit so boisterous, it sent him into a coughing fit. Tulio slapped his back good-naturedly, ground the thick sole of his boot into Jamie's calf, and half- dragged Clem back to the tents.
The not-coughing and the thought of water had brought up a roiling nausea; the heat of the day, combined with the lack of water, plus some minor blood loss was beginning to add up to severe dehydration. He clenched his teeth and prayed that the dry heaving would stay dry heaving. That was one bonus to the emptiness of his stomach he supposed.
He leaned into the fence post, trying to get as comfortable as possible without aggravating his sunburn, or welts from the caning. Distantly, he was worried that the only moisture on his skin was Clem's gift. Something about the lack of sweat was bad…
Maybe everything would be better when he woke up.
It had never been the case before, but there was a first time for everything.
Jaime dreamt of carnage. A bloodbath where the hunters lost for once. That was nice. Even if sleeping didn't fix any of his problems, it was a nice gift from his brain, or whatever god was in charge of wishful thinking.
So, probably not in hell then. He was pretty sure that was supposed to be hot. And, probably not the hunter's camp, either. He knew that was hot. Maybe hell was freezing if you died from heat stroke. for contrast. He thought he heard the gods were funny like that.
This was definitely not heaven, though. Even excluding how much pain, however dulled , he was in, no one complicit in as many werewolf deaths as he was would ever make it to heaven.
He hoped all those wolves were in whatever heaven they believed in.
Jaime was on an incredibly soft… Bed? Rug? Cloud? Maybe he was in some strange limbo, where he was aloud to touch such incredible things, but he had to be in pain, and freezing cold.
And wet? A water droplet ran down the small of his back, sending a shiver up his spine, which sent a flinch through his whole body.
Yeah. In exchange for this awesome cloud, he just had to be cold and wet and in pain. That was probably a better deal than hell. It was better than being with the hunters, so far. He was always in pain there, and sometimes he was cold and wet (or cold or wet), but he never got to lay on clouds.
This was probably the best heaven he could get, Maybe saving that puppy this morning had bumped him up morally enough that the gods gave him this. That would be cool.
Jaime was settling back into his cloud, content to drift for the next part of eternity, when he slowing became aware of a quiet, persistent, thump, thump, thump.
Jaime cracked open an eyelid.
His eye roved over the— surprisingly normal, cozy looking— room, and landed on the source of the sound.
It was the puppy from this morning. They didn't get away. They were dead. Here with Jaime. He must have infected them with his guilt just by touching them! Or— the spell he cast on them. Was that possible? Did he doom this innocent child to this strange afterlife, just by casting a spell meant to protect them? This place was fine, great, even, for someone like Jaime, who deserved far worse, but someone as sweet as them? They should be in a much better place.
Oh. Apparently it was possible to cry in heaven.
The pup tilted their head inquisitively. If wolves head eyebrows, Jaime was sure this one would have one raised. They stood up from where they had been lying on the floor— the thumping had been their tail against the ground, at least the didn't seen too distraught— and shook themself out, fur puffing up. They padded over to Jaime's cloud, and jumped up to join him.
They settled down gently, not jostling to cloud or any of his injuries, and cocked their head again.
"I'm so sorry," Jaime croaked. The pup's head tilted the other way. They didn't know why he was apologizing? "For getting you killed, and making you come with me to this weird afterlife. It's nice for me, but you should have lots of space to run around, and other wolves to be around. If I had known casting that spell would cause this, I wouldn't have done it." He sniffed. His mouth was sore, but no longer stitched together. That would have made apologizing much harder. "I just wanted you to get home safe."
He didn't think it was possible for a wolf to look so… baffled. The pup opened their mouth as if to speak, seemingly remembered they couldn't do that with a wolf's vocal chords and—
"Rowan!" said a new voice. Don't shift on the bed, you'll jar his injuries."
An older man came into view, his arms full of wet cloth? He set them in a bucket near Jaime's cloud— bed, apparently— and picked up the pup, who must be Rowan. He set her down, and almost instantly the wolf was replaced by a young girl.
"You are not what I expected an angel to to be," was the first thought Jaime had. ANd was also the first thing out of his mouth. Shit, that was probably insanely rude. "Uh. You're highness."
The angel put a hand on Jaime's forehead. It was rough in the way a hand gets from decades of work, but string to soften again in the way and old person's skin becomes so wrinkled its soft, like a piece of paper crumpled and flattened out repeatedly.
"Your fever hasn't broken yet," said the angel. "I'm here to replace your cold compresses, though, so that's alright for now."
"Ash," the pup— er, girl— whispers. "He thinks he's dead. He thinks I'm dead."
"I heard that," Ash the Angel said. An alliterative name. Maybe all angels have "A" names. He was taking off whatever was making Jaime cold and wet. It made a squelching sound as Angel Ash dropped it in another bucket.
"Hey!" Rowan said. "How come Ash gets to be an angel, but I'm just dead?"
"Maybe because your name doesn't start with 'A'."
"What?" She tilted her head, just like she did in her wolf form.
"What?" Jaime said. What was unclear? It seemed like Rowan knew Ash. Maybe he had been part of her pack hen they were alive, and Ash got to ascend to angel-hood because he had an "A" name. Jaime didn't make the rules.
"Rowan, your friend here is not going to be much of a conversation partner until this fever breaks. If you want to help, here." Angel Ash handed Rowan one of the cloths from the first bucket. she laid it gently on his neck and—
Everything else shorted out. If Jaime thought he was cold before, maybe he didn't know the meaning of the word. "Angel Ash, your majesty, I'm actually cold enough, thank you."
"You're not." Ash kept covering him in frost. "You're burning up. We have to keep drawing the heat out. Are you nauseous at all? Do you think you could keep down some water?"
Suddenly, water was all Jaime could think about he nodded. Rowan brought him a small cup, but before he could bring it to his mouth (which was a minor ordeal, because he was laying on his stomach and it hurt to move at all) Ash said, "Sip. it. Slowly. We don't want that coming back up. It would be bad enough, but i really don't want bile getting in those injuries on your lips."
Jaime started to sip. Slowly. He barely had a mouth full down (split into three sips, he was being good) when Ash said, "take a breath to let that settle. While you wait, you could tell us your name." It was almost a question, but not quite. He swallowed what was left of his third sip.
"Jaime. Nice to meet you." It was maybe the first time someone else had said his name in… seven years. "I'm Ash, that's Rowan."
Jaime nodded in greeting.
"Alright, hows that settling?"
The water was hitting his stomach hard. He wanted more, desperately, but Ash was right. Throwing up at all would be miserable, but with the state of his mouth? One more sip. He savored it. Swallowed it slowly.
Ash took the cup. "Alright. Get some sleep. We'll talk more when that fever breaks.
Jaime isn't sure what's happening. He remembers strange dreams: A bloody one of all the hunters being slaughtered by wolves, a reversal of how things always went,and one of… heaven?
He clings to sleep longer than he should. If Eskender finds him still asleep, he'll be in for it, but to live in a world where where none of the hunters do? Its too tempting to resist.
Strange, that had been part of the dream. He was half curious was making that sound in real life.
"Ash, I think he's waking up for real!" a young voice excitedly yells. "Jaime, I have soup for you! That's like water and food at the same time, and you need both."
That did sound good. He opened his eyes.
A wooden bowl of savory smelling broth was shoved into his vision. Luckily, it wasn't very full, otherwise it wold have sloshed out over the sides.
"Mirza said this is good for you, and it tastes good, which is lucky for you, cause a lot of things she says are good for you are kinda nasty. Don't tell her I said that!" The young voice is Rowan, the pup from his dream. And he was still laying on the cloud from his dream. He must still be dreaming. Right? But this all felt so real…
"And she says if you can keep this down for a while, you can have more, and maybe some bread, too, which would be awesome for you, cause Mirza makes the best bread in the world. She's a great cook, but vegetables are kinda gross, and even the best cook in the world can't fix mashed squash." Rowan paused to take a breath. "Well? Are you going to eat it? Cause Ash says we can have a real conversation once you eat."
"This isn't a real conversation?" He managed to say.
"Eat," Rowan said, drawing out the word. "I'll be quiet." To prove it, she shape shifted into a wolf and jumped up onto the bed. She stared at him with her massive blue wolf eyes. She prodded the bowl with her nose. Jaime took the hint.
The broth was incredible. Some sort of animal bones, and some vegetables, but nothing Jaime could think about right now. It was rich and salty. It stung the holes in his mouth, but it was so worth it. Maybe this wasn't a dream. He'd never been able to taste something in a dream before. It was gone too soon, but Jaime knew he shouldn't push his stomach's limits. It was good to start slow.
Rowan hopped off the bed and shifted back to human. She took a deep breath and stood up as straight as she could.
"I wanted to say thank you for saving my pack. You let me know there were hunters, and I let my pack know, and they had a chance to plan, instead of the hunters just finding us. And your magic you cast on me helped them track you, and they knew who helped me, and not to hurt you! Lada— that's our alpha— she said that we'll do everything we can to get you anywhere you want to go, but I want to thank you for getting me out of the trap, so as long as you're staying with us, you can have all my deserts, and I'll do all your chores."
That was a lot to process.
"That is very kind of you, Rowan," Ash said as he entered the room. "But right now Jaime is too sick for desert or chores."
"What?" Rowan squawked in outrage. "That's all I've got!"
"I'm sure you'll come up with something else. Can you run and tell Lada that our guest is awake?"
"But he just woke up! You said I could talk to him!"
"There will be plenty of time for talking. And take that bowl back to Mirza."
Rowan sighed, but picked up the bowl, and headed for the door. "I'll be back." She said half like a threat, and half like a request.
That was what she was waiting for. Rowan grinned, and took off, wooden bowl in hand.
Once they were alone, Ash sat down on a short three legged stool. "Jaime. I want to talk to you about removing the collar."
Jaime's mouth fell open. "What?"
"The only reason it's still on you is that i have heard that sometimes, when a mage has been collared for a long period of time, the shock of all of their magic returning at once can make them sick. With you already being sick, I didn't want to risk it. So, my question to you is this: do you you feel well enough for us to take it off?"
Jaime could only gape at him. It sounded too good to be true, there had to be some kind of trick—-
"You saved our Rowan. And by sending her to warn us, the whole Hearthstone pack. Taking off your collar is the literal least we can do."
Jaime nodded. He did feel better, but he also couldn't pass up this chance. Ash pick up a pair of heavy scissors, probably typically used for some incredibly benign task, like cutting bandages.
"Its going to be tight for a second," Ash said. Jaime nodded again, and very bravely didn't panic when Ash tugged on the collar to get the scissors in.
And with one solid shtck, all of his magic came rushing in.
It was overwhelming, but in the way a hot bath is after a long day of playing in the snow. Tingly, and burning, but then, just right.
Ash handed him the collar. The source of so much pain. The reason so many wolves were dead, reduced to an inert scrap of leather that fit in the palm of his hand.
In his first act of free magic in over seven years, he burns it to nothing.
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