Blackfeather Woods And all the lights that lead us there are blinding

She knew that he knew—she also knew that he was stubborn like she was and didn't like to be cared for by others. But he would just have to get over it. 

When he brought up the topic of a medic, a sharp spike of dread shot through her chest. She had known his wounds were bad and more than she could really manage, but she had been willing to try and help him as much as she was able. She had been trying to convince herself that with rest and food, he would be okay, but his words just shed light on how unreasonable that was. The shock of it all had barely worn off but suddenly, she could imagine him dying right in front of her and that being her fault too. 

But now was not the time to fall apart; she had to take care of him, and that meant finding him a healer. Okay, she said, keeping her voice steady and attempting to keep the fear from her expression. I'll go and see if I can find a healer, she promised him.

She watched him adjust and roll over on his side, pushing the rejected meal away. Worry surged again, tightening the knot in her stomach. Her face fell then, and her stoic mask slipped a little—she had grown accustomed to not hiding her emotions from Taikon, and so it was becoming more difficult to do so around him, even at times when she really wanted to. She sighed as warm moisture pricked the corners of her eyes. I hate this, she whispered. I should have gone, not you. You don't deserve this. He was laying there, hurt and in pain because of her, and she was having trouble dealing with it.