The towels in Geoffrey’s hands were soaked wet with dark blood, but at long last, Cerwin’s nosebleed lessened in intensity, turning into a mere trickle. It soon stopped altogether, and Geoffrey carefully wiped what remained with his thumb.

“How do you feel?” Geoffrey asked, his brow furrowed in worry as he scrutinized the mountain spirit’s face. “Lightheaded? Nauseous? Or are you about to—?”

“You worry too much, I’m fine,” Cerwin replied with a huff, carefully laying him down onto the mattress before snatching the soiled towels from his hands, tossing them aside, and pulling the blankets over his body. “Worry about yourself first.”

Pursing his lips, Geoffrey threw the mountain spirit a wronged look.

“…Unlike you, I don’t look like a living skeleton. I’m fine.”

Ow, that stings. But they had had this conversation often enough to know he wouldn’t win, so instead of fighting a losing battle, Geoffrey turned around and gave Solange puppy eyes, a silent plea for him to take care of the stubborn spirit. He had said witches weren’t gods, but surely, he could do something to alleviate the symptoms plaguing Cerwin. It was becoming harder and harder to watch. No matter how many times he had seen these nosebleeds, or how many times he had swept the bloody vomit splattered on the floor, he couldn’t grow used to them.

“Cerwin.” Solange took a deep breath, then a resigned, drawn-out sigh left his lips. He gestured for him to sit on the bed before walking to his shelves. “I’ll concoct you something, too. I took care of Aderyn in her last moments, so I should be able to find something that will ease your pain as well. Just… give me a moment.”

The witch rummaged through the books, and Geoffrey caught sight of Marveck glancing at him, a frown creasing his brow. He seemed to hesitate, his body tensing, but ultimately, he took a long stride to join Solange. His voice was low and soft when he spoke, a comforting arm wrapped around Solange’s waist—they were small gestures that stood out to Geoffrey, for he had never seen his unit leader behave that way.

“Do you need help?”

“Actually, yes, I do.” A silence fell, but Marveck didn’t press Solange, waiting for him to continue on his own. “Remember that book about calming herbs? Help me find it. I need to look for a paragraph about deer and their eating habits.” Another deep breath, and the witch added, “I know I’ve read it a long time ago, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it said.”

“Alright, I’m on it.”

With some difficulty, Geoffrey peeled his gaze away, shifting his attention back onto the mountain spirit, who was standing still beside his bed. Geoffrey had to stretch an arm to tug on his dress, prompting him to sit, for him to finally consent to join him on the mattress.

The bed creaked, and Cerwin twisted around, brushing a few disheveled strands of ginger hair behind his ears. It drew a smile out of Geoffrey, and he instinctively leaned his head against the palm of his hand.

So warm. The coldness in his body seemed to melt away whenever Cerwin touched him, like the snow during spring. His hands have always been so warm.

Minutes passed, and slowly, Geoffrey curled up around the mountain spirit, yet kept a chaste distance between their bodies. At some point, he grabbed his braid, fiddling with the soft hair, as neither spoke, for neither had the strength to engage in a lengthy conversation.

Or even a shorter one, for all that mattered.

The hike down the mountain had taken its toll on them, especially on Cerwin, who had made the journey twice in the same day. Geoffrey could tell, even if the mountain spirit didn’t say it.

Only the sound of pages being flipped and books being displaced filled the room, that was, until Solange said, “Also, Cerwin. You should take your animal form.” He didn’t look back at them, his eyes locked onto a book. “It’d be less taxing on your body.”

Cerwin’s hand halted mid-movement, and Geoffrey lifted his head to peer at his face. The mountain spirit’s lips were stretched into a taut line, his nose crunching up in recalcitrance. Why is he so stubborn about  the weirdest things? Is he afraid I’ll be repulsed? To this day, Geoffrey hadn’t forgotten the first exchange they had, and how the mountain spirit had expected him to scream in hysteria at the sight of his antlers and pitch-black eyes.

“You should change form,” Geoffrey insisted with a gentle smile. He knew the best way to break that stubbornness of his, and his voice mellowed as he added, “I also want to see it… Will you show it to me? Please?”

“Are you trying to coax me right now?”

“Yes?” Geoffrey didn’t deny it, his smile deepening instead. A bit of mischief sparkled in his green eyes, and he repeated, “Pretty please?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Cerwin didn’t immediately agree, but Geoffrey knew he eventually would and quirked an eyebrow, too, in return. As long as it didn’t concern his health, he always caved to his demands.

“Just so you know,” Cerwin sighed in resignation, “I can’t speak human language in that form.”

“It’s fine. You’re not much of a speaker, anyway.”

“Then close your eyes for a bit.” When Geoffrey didn’t comply, Cerwin put a hand before his eyes. “The shifting isn’t pretty to look at.”

“Alright.” Geoffrey ultimately compromised, even if curiosity threatened to implode. He kept his eyes closed as Cerwin’s hand was lifted and the bed creaked once more. The rustling of a dropped dress echoed amid the flipping of pages. After which, his ears couldn’t discern any notable noise.

Seconds ticked until something moist nudged his cheek, and only then did Geoffrey dare to peek. He came face-to-face with the snout of a deer. Beady eyes cautiously stared at him, and Geoffrey felt his heart flutter. He stretched an arm to run his bony fingers through the soft fur, smiling at the trembling of Cerwin’s ears. The mountain spirit didn’t avoid his touch, so he took it as a silent agreement.  

“That’s surprising,” Marveck murmured, but it was loud enough for Geoffrey to hear. “Can all spirits turn into an animal?”

“Yes, all spirits have an animal form, usually linked to the place of their birth.” Solange pushed a book aside, taking another one, as he continued matter-of-factly, “Aderyn, his youngest sister, was a bird. The eldest, Everlee, a wild boar. Barret, a bear. Channon, a wolf, and—”

Geoffrey couldn’t hear the rest, Solange’s voice turning into a buzzing sound in his ears. Aderyn, his youngest sister, was a bird. He felt his stomach twist, his bowels forming knots, as the image of dead birds sneaked into his mind, alongside the memory of Cerwin’s sorrowful face and bloody hands. Fishing or hunting does not please me, but it doesn’t mean I can’t do it. Words he hadn’t thought much of came back to him, and he retched.

Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Cerwin didn’t like killing living beings, not because he was a deer, but because the animals inhabiting the mountain area reminded him of his lost siblings. Even if Geoffrey didn’t know about them, he nevertheless felt like a fool, a fool who had been too preoccupied by his own grief to notice the anguish gripping at his savior’s heart.  

I fear spirits don’t have much time left in this world. Spirits. Cerwin hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t been the sole representative of his species.

The mountain range wasn’t made of one mountain.

***

“Are you feeling better?” Marveck asked, changing the cool, wet towel on his forehead. “You still look as pale as a sheet. Maybe you should sleep for a bit longer.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Geoffrey shook his head, letting his unit leader know that, no, he was alright. He didn’t want to sleep right now, for he feared what nightmares would come to haunt him.

Earlier, after emptying his stomach on the floor, he’d fainted, and he was only now regaining consciousness. Cerwin had climbed on the bed, lying between him and the wall, and served as some sort of warm cushion. The deer’s head rested on the pillow beside his, anxiety swirling in his pitch-black eyes. Geoffrey forced himself to lift an arm and stroke Cerwin’s neck, comforting him.

“I know your stomach isn’t the most cooperative right now.” Solange’s voice entered the room as the door was pushed open, and the witch appeared with a bowl of soup in hands.“But you will still need to eat. Marveck, help him sit.”

Marveck obliged, and Geoffrey didn’t protest. As his unit leader held onto him to help him straighten his back, he winced through gritted teeth, pinching his lips with shame. He couldn’t even muffle his cries of pain anymore, and they reverberated in the room, relentlessly mocking him. He’d rather smile, but couldn’t, as the irradiating pain in his chest pulled the corners of his lips down.

Once Geoffrey was seated properly, Cerwin moved behind him, acting as a backrest. He knew he couldn’t sit straight without help, so Geoffrey leaned against the deer, offering him a constricted smile and a thank you.

His body was starting to listen to him less and less.

Breathing, too, was becoming excessively difficult.

Still, he had to eat, if only to comfort the anxious deer beside him.

“The soup might taste a little bland.” Solange cleared his throat as he gave the bowl and the spoon to Marveck. “But it’s good for your health. Eat slowly and stop if you feel too full.”

The witch patted Marveck’s shoulder before turning around and sitting at his desk, going back to his research. Geoffrey noticed that a stack  of books were now piled up on a corner of the desk, alongside bundles of herbs he couldn’t recognize. It seemed like Solange had been rather busy while Geoffrey slept, and a tinge of guilt squeezed his heart. He shouldn’t put too much effort into this. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak and tell the witch to stop.

“Your daydreaming habit is still the same.” Marveck half-chuckled, half-sighed, presenting the spoon to his lips. “Come on, open your mouth. I’ve blown on it, so it shouldn’t be too hot. Tell me if it is, though.”

“Leader,” Geoffrey giggled, “I’m not made of snow, and I won’t melt even if it’s a little hot.” His green eyes crinkled. “I didn’t know you were such a parent.”

“I wouldn’t have to worry like a father if a certain someone wasn’t clumsiness incarnate.” Marveck snorted, and Geoffrey let out an embarrassed laugh. He couldn’t deny that part, could he? “Now, eat.”

Pushing the awkwardness aside, Geoffrey opened his mouth.

It wasn’t very flavourful, but it was good nonetheless. Compared to the pea soup the barracks had fed him for years, this tasted divine. Something in it also seemed to soothe his throat, and he ate much more than he thought he would. He still couldn’t eat the whole bowl, however. It was too much for him.

“So,” Marveck started, putting the bowl aside, “how have you been these past few months? You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel like it. I imagine they weren’t exactly the best days of your life.”

“Actually,” Geoffrey grinned slightly, a strange quietness in the depths of his eyes, “they might as well have been. The first two weeks weren’t very pleasant as I was bedridden and injured, but after that… The days were quiet and uneventful. I even learned how to crochet.”

“Your injuries weren’t too severe…?”

“No, just a few cuts and bruises, but nothing broken.” Geoffrey puffed out his chest with pride before deflating just as fast. “I lucked out in the fall, and I’d have been fine if it hadn’t been for the cold I caught.”

“That’s not a cold, though.” Solange’s mumble interrupted him, but Geoffrey pretended not to hear the witch.

To be fair, he had truly thought it was a cold at first, something that wasn’t uncommon and would pass with time. Then, he wore blinders as the cough lingered, thinking that it was simply a nasty one, until he ultimately couldn’t lie to himself anymore. This emaciated body of his, and the heavy pressure in his chest, told too much of another story for him to continue with the lie. It wasn’t a cold. It was something else.

“Anyway.” Geoffrey decided not to dwell on the matter. “What about you?” He bit his bottom lip, hesitating as his eyes lingered on Marveck’s missing finger. “How have things been going for you?”

“Well,” a smirk bloomed on his unit leader’s face, “things were quiet at first, then they were not. I broke both of my arms pretty badly, but Solange operated his magic and somehow managed to patch them up.” Marveck turned a deaf ear to the witch’s ‘it’s not magic!’ and continued, “They’re not the same as before, and I have some difficulty with them at times, but I’ll say that I’m quite lucky, considering the army would have let them rot, and I would probably be an amputee by now, if not buried six feet under.”

The sarcasm dripping in his unit leader’s voice sent shivers down Geoffrey’s spine. Even if he had been dissatisfied with the army and the higher-ups before, he had never once voiced his displeasure this clearly. But in the end, Geoffrey couldn’t refute Marveck’s words. To the army and the Crown, to which they had sworn loyalty, they were nothing more than expendable pawns. They could discard their lives with no remorse, as long as they had served their purpose.

Still, he didn’t want to go on that tangent, so Geoffrey anchored the conversation on something else that had piqued his curiosity.

“Both of your arms broke?”

“Yes, both of them.” A playful glint flashed in his eyes as he winked at Geoffrey, carefully enunciating every syllable of the next words that left his mouth. “I never thought I’d need someone to help me piss and wipe my ass at my age.”

Choking on his saliva, Geoffrey stared at his unit leader in disbelief. He had thought that having the mountain spirit wipe his body and apply the balm was embarrassing enough; he couldn’t imagine if Cerwin had had to help him pee on top of everything! He was glad he had been in good enough health to crawl to the pot on his own, but thanks to Marveck’s teasing words, a certain mental image intruded his thoughts, and his cheeks flared red.

It didn’t help that Cerwin, seemingly sensing his distress, rubbed his snoot against his shoulder, only stopping once Geoffrey petted him.

“That aside,” Marveck’s countenance softened, “my life’s been quite peaceful, and I’ve settled into my new reality. Solange taught me how to read, and he’s currently teaching me how to differentiate between different herbs and their properties. After that…”

Ever-so-slowly, Marveck’s steady voice lulled Geoffrey to sleep. Unbeknownst to him, he started to doze off, his body growing limp on the deer. He curled against Cerwin, and just as his consciousness faded away, he seemed to have heard his unit leader wish him a good night’s rest. But the calmness in his voice was gone, replaced by a deep sorrow.