Time ticked, and his prayer didn’t seem to be heard. The blood kept cascading down Cerwin's chin, gathering on his white dress and staining the fabric until its previous pristine state was nothing but a memory of the past. Panic started to creep onto Geoffrey, and the fear he had been trying to dismiss surged like a tidal wave, clenching at his chest, making breathing difficult.

Why wasn’t the nosebleed stopping? It should have stopped by now.

“Geoffrey,” Cerwin’s calm but firm voice snapped him out of his stupor, “can you let go of my hand? I’d like to wipe my face. Also, don’t look at me like this. The bleeding is going to stop soon, and I’m not going to die from this much. Now, let go of my hand.”

Reluctantly, Geoffrey did as requested, his worried gaze never leaving Cerwin. He kept his mouth tightly shut, fear still brewing in the pit of his stomach. Liar was the thought that resounded in his mind.

“I’ll do it for you,” Geoffrey said, a smile on his trembling lips. “I’m not taking a no for an answer this time. Stay still.”

A deep breath later, Geoffrey stood up, hurrying into another carved chamber. The mountain spirit’s dwelling wasn’t big, composed only of four rooms and a few alcoves, with one of these rooms converted into a food storage room for Geoffrey. It took less than a minute for him to find a cloth and a bucket of water, then return to Cerwin’s side. Finally, the bleeding seemed to have subsided, but it didn’t make the sight any less frightening.

Kneeling on the cold ground, Geoffrey carefully lifted Cerwin’s chin and began to wipe the blood. His every move was slow, overly caring, as if afraid being too abrupt would result in another blood waterfall. He wasn’t sure his heart could take it a second time, so he wiped the blood little by little, starting by Cerwin’s throat, then climbing up to his chin, then his lips.

“You know I’m not made of glass, don’t you?” He felt Cerwin’s lips move under his thumb. “You can scrub with more strength.”

“I’m not made of glass either, but a few months ago, a certain someone painstakingly applied balm over my entire body every morning and evening for almost two weeks.”

Cerwin blinked, and Geoffrey’s smile grew brighter, shining like a thousand suns. The mischief in his green eyes couldn’t be mistaken, however.

Admittedly, it was a bit childish of him to bring up his convalescence days, but the mountain spirit shouldn’t preach something he hadn’t been doing himself. Geoffrey had almost died of embarrassment at the time, for Cerwin had been overly diligent in tending to his wounds. Geoffrey didn’t believe he was being as zealous as he had been, so the mountain spirit should be able to put up with him for a bit, if only to reassure him.

“Fine, do whatever.”

That was what Geoffrey did, dabbing the cloth on his skin gently and washing it in the water whenever it had absorbed too much blood. It didn’t take long for the clear rainwater to turn black, but he pretended not to notice. He had more pressing matters to attend to.  

“Is it the first time this has happened?”

Silence was his answer, and Geoffrey’s gaze turned softer. Cerwin was like this. When the answer he had to say was something Geoffrey would rather not hear, he kept quiet. So, the answer to that question was most likely a no.

“How long has it been going on?”

Again, silence. It has been going on for a while, I presume. It wasn’t a comforting thought. Even if Cerwin had been having nosebleeds and had been throwing up blood for a while, it wasn’t any less reassuring. He wasn’t supposed to do either. But then again, humans had been exploiting the mountain range for a long time already, and the questions were: when did it begin to affect his health, and how much more of that exploitation can the mountain spirit take before collapsing?      

“Will you die?”

“Every being dies at some point.”

“Cerwin,” Geoffrey sighed, pressing his forehead against his, “you know what I mean.”

What was the point of beating around the bush? He needed to know, if only to prepare his heart for the inevitable.

“I fear spirits don’t have much time left in this world.”

“I see.” Geoffrey closed his eyes. It was still a vague answer, and the time frame offered wasn’t clear, but Cerwin was dying, slowly but inexorably. He could not escape that fate. “Then, let me stay by your side, for however long you have left.”

Because I don’t have much time left either. It was a thought Geoffrey didn’t say aloud, but it seemed to have been conveyed to Cerwin regardless. As the days unwound, his lungs seemed to gain weight, becoming heavier and heavier as if they were gradually turning into stones. Breathing was arduous the instant he exerted himself too much. Simply rushing to the adjacent room had rendered him breathless, and it was barely a few meters away. He could tell his lungs were starting to fail him, but he couldn’t tell when exactly they would stop working altogether, and when he would draw his last breath.

If anything, Geoffrey should have died on that fateful day. It was a miracle he hadn’t, and maybe he had been given a grace period so that he could stay by the mountain spirit’s side in his last days. His only fear was that he might not outlast Cerwin, for he was only human.

But at last, when he died, he would be permitted to meet with his old comrades again, whether in hell or heaven. He still didn’t know where the short life he had led would take him, or if there was even an afterlife waiting for him. In the end, he could only hope there had been a trace of truth in the lies he had been told to believe in.

***

“You are a terrible caretaker.” Cerwin snorted, and Geoffrey’s mouth twitched. It wasn’t his fault if he had never taken care of a sick spirit before. Humans, he had. Spirits? Never! “Just bring me some clear rainwater to drink, and it will help me with the nausea. And don’t run!”

The reminder stopped Geoffrey mid-movement, and he glanced over his shoulder at Cerwin, who was lying on the straw bed. The mountain spirit was in no position whatsoever to worry about him, yet he still had the energy to nag him. It was impressive, in a way.

“Stop scowling, it’s ruining your pretty face.” Geoffrey tugged his tongue out before quickly disappearing into another room.

Really, he should worry about himself, not me. Cerwin couldn’t even get out of bed today, when he usually didn’t even sleep.

After the massive nosebleed yesterday, the mountain spirit had felt so dizzy he almost fainted right then and there. Geoffrey felt his heart leap into his throat when he caught Cerwin’s limp body in the nick of time, only to hear him grumble things about how bothersome these humans blasting holes in the mountain were. If this went on, he’d soon lose his ability to take his humanoid form. That had piqued Geoffrey’s curiosity, but before he could ask any question, Cerwin waved him away and told him to sleep.

At the time, Geoffrey was exhausted, and rest had been welcome. They still had a lot of things left to do the next morning, but when said next morning came, Cerwin was bedridden.

“I still can’t believe that’s just one of his forms. I wonder what the others are like?” Geoffrey sighed as he gathered water in a bowl. He glanced at the complex system of drains, pipes, and barrels used to catch the rainwater, the usual curiosity stirring up his stomach. Cerwin had told him that an old generation of witches had built this system for him a long time ago. To begin with, most of his dwelling had been carved and sorted out by these old friends of his, friends who were long gone.

I wonder how many people he has met, and how many he has buried. It was a dreadful thought, one that Geoffrey quickly chased away. He was determined not to leave Cerwin behind first, regardless of whatever his lungs said.  

Back in their room, Geoffrey brought the bowl to the mountain spirit’s lips. In silence, he helped Cerwin drink it, as he did not have enough strength left in his arms to hold onto the wooden bowl himself.  

“I’ve noticed there’s dried blood sticking to your hair.” Geoffrey lowered his eyes, staring at the brown locks of hair that had turned black. “Want me to wash it?”

“Even if I tell you no, you’re going to do it anyway.”

Geoffrey scratched his cheek, unable to deny it. He was taking his role as a caregiver seriously, and he had no intention to let the mountain spirit stay covered in blood under his watch. Cerwin hadn’t even yet changed clothing before going to bed yesterday!

“I’ll go prepare a bath.”

“Do you even remember how?”

“I’m clumsy, but not that clumsy.”

“Uh-huh.”

A pause, and Geoffrey narrowed his eyes at Cerwin, who responded by cocking an eyebrow. Silly provocations wouldn’t make him drop the matter, and Geoffrey patted the mountain spirit’s shoulder as if to tell him to behave before going into the room that served as a bathroom.

Bathing in a proper bath and not a river or a small wooden tub was a luxury Geoffrey had never experienced before living with Cerwin. In his mind, it was something only the wealthy and the nobility had access to, and he had been left speechless the first time Cerwin dragged him to the bathroom, once his wounds had started to close and he didn’t need to be covered in balm and medicinal herbs.

Still, he hadn’t taken baths all that often over the past few months, as a bath used a fair amount of rainwater. It hadn’t rained much during the summer, except for that one downpour that had caused his unit’s downfall, and according to Cerwin, it was better to conserve as much water as possible whenever possible, something Geoffrey agreed wholeheartedly with.

He could survive a few days without eating, but not without drinking.  

“This room is as impressive as ever.” Geoffrey chuckled to himself as he tiptoed his way to the bathtub directly carved in the rock floor. It wasn’t overly big, just wide enough to accommodate two full-grown men at a time. Despite the simplicity, it was nevertheless a masterpiece of masonry. The surface was smooth, and the edges were engraved with symbols Geoffrey couldn’t quite comprehend. Not like he knew how to read to begin with, but these didn’t seem to be letters.

There were also a few illustrations that depicted deer, fruits, and people.

Peeling his eyes off the carvings, Geoffrey turned the handle and watched as water started to fill up the tub, bit by bit.

From what Cerwin had told him, it was connected through underground pipes to the room where rainwater was collected. Even though Geoffrey knew how it worked, it never ceased to amaze him. What was even more mind-blowing was that he only needed to go outside, gather some wood, and start a fire in an unassuming cavity dug into the mountain wall for the bath to warm up. In the same manner, starting a fire in another cavity would heat the cold floor of the bedroom he shared with Cerwin. It was too miraculous not to be seen as some sort of witchcraft.

“The bath is just about ready,” Geoffrey said between two ragged breaths as he helped Cerwin to stand up. “It’s quite windy outside today, and starting a fire wasn’t an easy affair.”

“It’s always windy at the top of the mountain, though.”

“I know it was a poor joke, but why not play along?” Geoffrey chuckled as he helped the mountain spirit to undress, red creeping onto his cheeks as he did. They might have been living together for months, but he had never seen Cerwin naked, and he didn’t know where to put his eyes, especially as he bent down to pull the dress to his feet and allow the mountain spirit to step over it while holding onto his shoulders.

Why are you even getting embarrassed, doofus? Geoffrey silently scolded himself. No matter how pretty Cerwin was, he was still a man, but for some reason, he had always felt shier in the presence of men than women. He didn’t know why and didn’t dare to ask why either. He hadn’t wanted Richardson or others to mock him more than they already had for something that he, again, shouldn’t be feeling. It was better to keep quiet.

“Is the water warm enough?” Geoffrey asked as Cerwin sat in the bath, his long hair spreading around like a web. Washing it was going to take some time.   

“Yes, it’s the perfect temperature. Stop worrying.”

“No, I won’t!” Geoffrey laughed as he grabbed the flask of the liquid-like soap the mountain spirit was adamant to use to wash his hair—and his, too, for all that mattered. The strange product had left him perplexed at first, but there was no doubt it did wonders, considering how lustrous his ginger hair had become in the span of a few months. Or it might be because he wasn’t using the grease provided by the army anymore. Back at the barracks, it had been mandatory to run some into his hair before putting on his tricorn hat.  

Although a silence had fallen, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Geoffrey concentrated on the task at hand, sitting on the edge of the bath with his legs in the water, framing Cerwin’s body, as he gently washed a lock of brown hair before rinsing it. Then, he took another one and repeated the process. Because of some sort of cleansing mechanism, the water was being constantly cleaned, and it stayed clear, untainted by the black blood. It was another witchcraft process Geoffrey could not comprehend.

Steam hovered in the air. Geoffrey thought breathing would be harder, and although it was, it also wasn’t at the same time. It felt like the air more easily traveled into his lungs, even if it also made them feel heavier in his chest.  

At some point, Geoffrey started to hum, filling the room with a soft but joyful song. Cerwin closed his eyes and seemed to doze off, his head moving up and down.

It was a peaceful morning, and Geoffrey could not help but smile.

He loved these quiet moments with the mountain spirit, and deep down, he hoped they would have many more before they slumbered into a deep sleep neither would ever wake up from. No matter how short, he wanted to make their time together memorable.