“Tell me the truth, Girda.” Christoph took a slow, unsteady breath. “Don’t hold back. Am I dying?”
The field had finally settled to quiet, though he could see the last remnants of one of Rezzi’s spells swirl as it carried away a last enemy- it was an elegant little bit of flair, she was learning well. He would have to compliment her on th-
A shock of pain wracked him again, and he was reminded of the sharp line the hag’s dagger had carved through his stomach. Fuck. He had been trying to keep track of them, there shouldn’t have been another one to catch him-
Fuck, another jolt of pain, and he glanced down to his hands. He shouldn’t have been able to see that much of himself in one glanc-
Another jolt- was it poison? Was it coming faster? Fuck. He needed-
He fell to one knee, swallowing hard, letting out a cry of pain-
He tried to push himself up to-
The burning pain was still harsh, coming faster, but something eased in him as he heard Girda’s voice, felt her calloused hands press his down against the wound, saw her glance over her shoulder to call for Mavis.
He let his head fall back, closing his eyes. There were few things in this land he felt confident in, but there were at least a few.
Girda wouldn’t let him die.