Bearclaw Valley blowing on a highway alone

He's made an effort to stay with the child as often as possible, though he's beginning to feel less optimistic about his condition. The first seizure had been terrifying, but he'd remembered witnessing it before, and by now they've become routine for him. He tries not to wonder whether it's the same for the boy in his care. Truth be told, there isn't much he can do for him; the poppies are almost dry enough to shake the seeds from them, but it hardly matters if his patient can't eat them, or anything. He keeps the wound on his head clean, but he knows from his own experiences that he cannot treat the damage within.
He can at least keep him safe while he heals, though — if he is truly healing. These doubts are so distracting that he hardly notices the boy stirring at first, though it only takes a few moments. His heart drops into his stomach and he rises quickly, but the child seems... well, not good, but not writhing on the floor either. It takes him a few more seconds to react, but then he approaches him slowly, watching him closely and speaking softly. Hey. Can you tell me how you're feeling?