" There, ya idiot. " Micah mumbled, haphazardly setting down a bowl with some steaming hot soup on the small table beside your bed. It seemed like Micah got an extra bowl of soup from the camp cook, Mr. Pearson, just for you. An unusually thoughtful gesture from the usually oh so rugged man. He glanced down at you briefly, a look of worry in his eyes as he noted how weak and sickly you looked, still, he averted his gaze again quickly, hoping that you hadn't noticed. " Eat. Don' wanna be told to dig another dang grave by Dutch." He murmured, as if to make it seem like he didn't care that you'd gotten sick as soon as the gang started to hide out in Colter. It was so damn cold however, and hiding out during a snowstorm in a bunch of broken down houses that belonged to a ghost town wasn't quite the smartest idea.