this one is a lot shorter than the other parts, but here it is all the same!
Everything that night had happened so fast; Frederick’s head swirled with so many questions that he couldn’t figure out which ones to ask first until the first rays of dawn peeked through the trees and bounced off the snow. That, and he was feeling a bit more fatigued than usual.
He had managed to learn the names of his companions, at the very least. Halvard Haldorson, and Njord Edelkalt, son of Weland Edelkalt, who was the Steward of Hallanheld. Both were in Zhelevet for a reconnaissance mission. They had been captured by some of Stormstrider’s inner circle, but before they could be presented to the king, Stormstrider had found a better use for them as Frederick’s rescuers.
Given the fact that they were on foot rather than horseback, it would take even longer to get to Hallanheld. Frederick wasn’t keeping up as well as he should have. He was no battle-hardened warrior, but he stayed fit enough for someone of his station, so it was very odd that he should have such little stamina now. His side twinged with every step, but thankfully, the bandages held fast.
They made camp for the night a little way’s off the trail. Frederick fell asleep as soon as his head hit his makeshift pillow.
...
It took longer than usual for Frederick to wake up the next morning. His side spasmed and shuddered as he sat up. He winced, curling in on himself for a moment. He shivered, chills running up and down his entire body. Cursed Ledyanoysian weather.
“Are you all right, your highness?” Njord asked.
Frederick glanced up at the concerned face above him. He forced a weak nod.
“Just tired,” he mumbled.
“Well, try to find some energy. We’ve got plenty more ground to cover today.”
Frederick nodded. He stood, his body shaking from the movement. He gathered around the fire with Njord and Halvard for a brief breakfast, then they were back on the road again.
It was taking even more effort to keep walking today than it did yesterday. Frederick’s breath came out in little clouds, and his gait was sluggish and uneven. Every gust of wind knocked him off-balance, and there were plenty of times that Njord and Halvard had to stop and wait for him to catch up. It was embarrassing; he knew he was inconveniencing them, and he hated to be the weak link of a group.
This pattern went on for the next two days. It was only when the distant chimney smoke of Hallanheld came into his sight that Frederick’s legs gave out completely.
Njord and Halvard turned as Frederick face-planted into the snow. They rushed over to help right him.
“Come on, your highness, we’re so close,” Halvard said, “you’ll be able to rest soon.”
“Sorry,” was what Frederick tried to answer, but a pained groan escaped him instead. Njord’s eyes narrowed.
“Lift his shirt,” he said.
The cold assaulted his skin, the bandages doing little to block out its bite. Frederick saw Njord and Halvard exchange glances. He could swear he saw panic cross their features.
Njord said something else, but Frederick couldn’t make it out. His eyes drifted down to where Halvard’s gaze was fixed. A bit of unsightly green stained the bandages, tinged with bits of red here and there. The forest sounds grew muffled, and darkness fell on him a moment later.
