Otter Creek Save your breath, my brother

For a day Anselm slept. He was tended to by both; Etienne rarely leaving his side and Raindrop tending where she could. Something spoke in his ear; two soft, murmuring voices. 

When he woke, the world was blurry along the edges and the metallic taste of blood rang in his mouth. 

He tried to stand, the shapes before him gradually materializing into figures — but before he could regain his footing he slouched again, consciousness nearly fleeing him.