Silvertip Mountain and there's a million things i haven't done

In another complete turn of events, the silver eyes opened, and Cortland was looking at him lovingly, as if nothing had happened at all. He said his name, and Phocion let out a shuddering sigh of some relief, dropping the moss in surprise. Lay down with me. The white priest was more than happy to oblige, but before he began to settle down---Cortland was out like a light again.

The stillness disturbed him, but not nearly as much as the trembling had. The boy was breathing, and the blood from his tongue was slowing. It was a respite from the trauma he'd experienced, and with a small whine, Phocion circled and sprawled out beside his friend, belly against his back, holding him tight against him.

If the trembling began again, he would try to stop it once more. He would not sleep--there was too much anxiety bubbling beneath the surface for him to sleep. He would lay, restless, until Cortland rose again. . .and he hoped that was soon.