They’re prevented from moving swiftly by the bramble choking the twisted hazel trees, but Ashford’s confused path is clear and easy to follow. They’re increasingly careful to not get nicked by the bramble’s thorns, but notices with dismay spots of dried blood. Mher already knows that it’s Ashford’s blood; they’ve only been together a short time yet Seton’s remained uninjured and Ashford’s had blatant disregard for his own body. More concerning are the amount of pricks. Ashford forgets he’s pricked and is careless and pricked again Mher suspects. Pollen directly in the bloodstream is one of the worst things one could do to expose themselves to the parasite, but Mher had left with such urgency they’d failed to warn them properly. They kick themself for acting rashly and leaving them.

A metallic clash softly rings. Mher’s heart stutters with relief and dread. The sound could just as likely be enemies engaged with themselves, but they retain a spark of hope that they’d already found them.

There are few sounds of ricocheting blades to go off of, but Mher prefers that the fighters engaged spill less blood even if it makes tracking them more difficult.

There’s a split in the trees and vines allowing Mher a glimpse. Seton’s expression is blank and he’s in a practiced stance; Ashford’s breathing heavily, blood pouring from his arm and a pin cushion of pokes and cuts. The two face each other silently, and Mher decides to sneak closer over making their presence obvious. Their mind races for the right words to regain their trust to escort them out of the forest while also deescalating them.

But Seton lunges at Ashford, so Mher shouts their first idea, “He’s your employer!” Ashford startles, head whipping to look at Mher, and Seton pulls back at the last moment to search Mher’s words for deceit. “The bramble’s pollen is causing memory loss. You were hired by Wallard to work for this unit,” Mher explains while stepping carefully through the thicket to the patch. Both regard Mher with measured suspicion.

“Who're you?” Seton asks venomously.

“Mher, I’m guiding your group to Inveilin.”

Ashford’s eyebrows scrunch in thoughtful confusion, “...But you’re Alderkin?” Seton side eyes Ashford.

“The army forced us to travel with you,” Mher calmly explains.

Seton pierces Mher with a critical look, “Then why not leave us here? If the army is forcing you.”

“Even if I explain it right now you’ll forget. Let me lead you out of the bramble first.” Mher looks into Ashford’s eyes to ask, “Do you remember Emmett and Foxyn?” Ashford flashes of recognition before he’s able to reestablish a poker face so Mher continues, “They’re waiting for you outside of the bramble.” While Ashford’s processing this information, Mher steps closer to the two ignoring the weapons both still hold in defense. Ashford flinches, conflicted on how to act and Mher pulls out bandages. With friendly teasing they say, “You said you’d be more careful with your arm. I suppose it could look worse, but could you go more than a couple days without me having to tend to it.” All the while bandaging Ashford’s tense arm- who doesn’t drop the dagger. Mher’s back is to Seton, implicitly trusting Ashford, and they sneak a glance at him and scold, “Cover your face already. You’ve already inhaled enough pollen. And I know you’re not going to let me cover over there and do it for you.”

“...Then why’d you think I’d let you?” Ashford asks.

“You wouldn’t attack me,” Mher says softly. “Plus I don’t think you’d attack an unarmed stranger.”

“How do you know it’s the pollen?” Seton distrustfully asks.

“Because I was taught about the parasite. You have nothing to lose being the one to cover your mouth and nose yourself, you know right?” Seton concedes begrudgingly, but satisfies Mher.

“You remember the way out?” Ashford asks, his guard coming down.

“I do. It’s not too far.” Seeing that the two are willing though wary, Mher leads them safely back. They keep up a conversation with the two so as to not lose them and hold their attention as best as possible.

Out of the bramble, Ashford and Seton have already forgotten their conversation from the patch allowing Mher to lead them to Emmett and Foxyn without much fuss. Foxyn is still asleep, but Emmett’s eye lights up with recognition and relief.

“Has Foxyn slept the whole time?” Mher asks Emmett.

Emmett has to think about it before answering, “...Yes.”

Mher is thinking over the next steps and realizes the three awake are looking to them for guidance. “Foxyn’s map doesn’t have clear information for this area,” Mher begins explaining, “so he might have an easier time if he continues to sleep through it. Would you be willing to carry him?”

Emmett observes Foxyn’s small frame and answers, “I can do that.”

“We’re going to travel west toward the ridge to get to clean air. Then, hopefully, we’re going to do your favorite thing,” Mher says with a smile to Seton. “Ideally we'll get to the ridge and Foxyn will be able to find us a mountain stream so we can wash off as much pollen as possible.” No part of Seton’s mannerisms indicate Mher’s words phase him, but he sheathes his weapons finally. Emmett lifts Foxyn, careful not to jostle him, wincing occasionally at forgotten wounds.

Again Mher leads them with idle chatter; they show they’re able to retain their memory which Mher considers an improvement and at one point Ashford acknowledges them by their name. Hazy memories are reclaimed and with it restores their trust in Mher. Mher keeps them in the redwoods until they have no choice but to travel through the tangled woods to get back to the mountainside, forced to backtrack slightly. At the foot of the mountain they wake Foxyn, who’s completely disoriented, but follows Ashford’s instructions to find a clean water source on the range. Foxyn, lost situationally, tracks down a stream despite his confused state. It’s below the treeline and akin to shallow rapids; they collectively realize they hadn’t explained the purpose to Foxyn, but wash regardless, mindful of falling in. They make a small fire to dry their clothes, and the unit comes to their senses. Seton cleans incessantly leaving Ashford to lead the questioning.

“How come Seton and I forgot the most?”

“A condensed cloud of pollen can cause intense memory loss or confusion. You two went into the nest while Emmett and Foxyn only caught bits of it off the wind,” Mher says. They ponder if it’s the pollen or their own fault for the negligent communication, but brush it off as irrelevant now. “We may have forgetful moments for a few days before it clears out of our systems, but overall our long term memory should stay unaffected.”

Foxyn raises an eyebrow at them. “You seemed pretty freaked out for just pollen. Is there long term damage?”

“If the eggs hatch-”

“Eggs?!” Seton’s mortified expression is the most emotion Mher’s seen from him and for a moment they’re distracted.

“The pollen is technically eggs. The parasite is closer to a plant than animal.”

“Parasite…” Seton whines in despair, his hands dragging down his cheeks. Emmett nervously touches his damaged eye, seeming to second guess whether he cleaned it well.

“How will we know if we have the parasite?” Foxyn asks.

“You won’t be able to recall recent memories until. The parasite will continue to erase memories until you’ve completely regressed,” Mher dismally explains.

“What’s the cure? We can just take it before the symptoms manifest,” Foxyn reasons.

“I…” An inopportune grin slips onto their face before they’re able to quash it. “I don’t remember most of the materials or process.”

“You know the parasite, but not the cure for it?” Foxyn questions accusatory- though he’s unintimidating while undressed.

“If a person doesn’t know how to swim they avoid water,” Mher defends though it’s undercut with worry.

“We’ll worry about it if it comes to that. For now we need a route on the ridge,” Ashford says.

“Right, sure,” Foxyn mutters, dismissively.

“You’re going to get a cold if you stay in there too long,” Ashford provides to Seton, who scrubs his skin fervently, whole body shaking.

He looks at his numb, trembling hands; “Just one more for good measure…”

“Were you able to clean out your wound?” Ashford asks Mher seeming to feel a need to be attentive.

“Yeah, it was unpleasant, but you stitched it well so it’s recovering well.” They show Ashford the puffed up skin with a red slit where the cut still heals.

“Good,” Ashford smiles guiltily and looks at his arm. “And you were right, I wasn't careful with my arm.”

“I don’t know how you can bring yourself to move it,” Mher laments looking at the disaster etched to his skin.

“I guess since I’m sore all over it just doesn’t stand out.” That and the numbness Ashford thinks.

Mher holds Ashford’s arm for closer inspection. “I think adding more stitches would just be damaging at this point. I’ll try and make a sticky salve to bond to your arm so that it has some time to heal.” Suddenly they grin mischievously, “I should skip the sling and just strap your arm to your chest haha.”

“You don’t need to go that far haha,” Ashford laughs and playfully shoves Mher’s shoulder.

This interaction does not go unnoticed by Emmett, Foxyn, and Seton but they decide collectively to mind their business.

Once their clothes have dried and they’re able to drag Seton from the river they make their way up the ridge. They find a spot for the night not particularly concerned about an enemy unit so far out of the way.

The day that follows Mher observes the unit misplacing odds and ends, humorously. Ashford frequently forgets his numerous new injuries and Mher pokes fun, chalking it up as part of the pollen’s after effects.

The day after there are only a few slips, most by Ashford and quickly laughed off as normally forgetful anyways.

The next morning Ashford wakes with a frown, looking around the barren ridge with snow patches.

“What’s wrong?” Foxyn asks, noticing Ashford’s distress. Ashford can’t bring himself to answer and searches for clues south.

Chills overtake Mher with a sinking suspicion. “Ashford, without moving your head, look at my hand.” They raise their hands above Ashford’s head; Ashford’s eyes roll up leading Mher to the saddening realization. Mher lowers their hand and breathes, “Damnit...” Ashford fixes them with doe-eyes, blissfully unaware but in his right mind enough to be concerned. “You have a parasite.”