Hushed Willows The voices in my head keep telling me I'm cursed.

He had been careful enough to evade the boar, and get as far as the willow grove. Glaukos was on-edge and hazy, fighting to remain cognizant in case a threat did befall him again; and when he heard a voice, he turned groggily to face it, as if drunk. He swayed and bobbed, eyes red-rimmed and face sallow from exhaustion, grayed by bloodloss.

The stranger looked unfamiliar. The soldier saw them in double, superimposed and spinning to his eye. He saw the gawkiness of youth and the fever said, that's not a wolf; imagining deer aspects, and grimaced. The stranger spoke of herbs with as much confidence as any boy might, and Glaukos huffed

He lurched along the ridge away from the boy. You know less than me, kid. The man's voice was a crackling fire, the tone sharp and snapping. What he needed was a proper medic and that meant he'd need to climb the mountain.