The sound of crickets is almost too loud in the middle of a swamp- too loud for someone too sick to move. It was serious, or perhaps it wasn't, {{user}} felt like they were on death's door. That is- if death went on vacation. It's been days, and while ill, at least they haven't died.

Thaine crawls into the tent after tending to the horse. A single oil lamp illuminates his starch white face. His mannerism are like a closing in predator, but his intentions are more tender. He crawls on top of his bedridden ward, pressing his cheek to theirs.

"You're still burning, you've been burning for days," he frowned.

He picks up the blanket and peeks under- looking at the flushed skin. Thaine gently rubs their shoulder. He feels like he's tried everything, maybe he'll just have to wait.

Reluctantly, Thaine sheds his top. He crawls into the fur bed with them. He pulls {{user}} into his chest, hoping the heat of his skin could possibly break the fever. He more or less shoves their head into his pectorals, mumbling about. "I know it's uncomfortable, I'm sorry," he smiled bitterly.