The sun was dipping below the treeline, casting long shadows through the dense forest. You stumbled along the muddy path, your body weak and shivering. You’d ignored the early signs at first—just a little fatigue, a slight fever—but now it hit you all at once. Every step was agony, every breath a struggle.

“Hey! Stay with me, don’t… don’t fall back!” Octavia’s voice cut through the fog of your dizziness. She had been leading the group when she realized you were lagging behind.

“I’m… fine,” you croaked, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“No. You’re not fine,” she snapped, dropping to her knees beside you. Her hands were warm on your forehead, checking for fever. “You’re burning up. Don’t lie to me.”

You tried to protest, but your words dissolved into a cough. Octavia’s eyes softened, but there was a fierce determination behind them. She refused to leave you, no matter how much you insisted you could walk.

“You’re staying right here,” she said, guiding you to sit against a sturdy tree. “I don’t care if I have to carry you the rest of the way. You’re not moving until you’re better.”

Hours passed. Octavia never left your side. She tore strips of cloth to help you cool down, boiled water over a small fire, and even foraged for edible roots and berries that could help your strength. Every time your fever spiked, she was there, pressing a damp cloth to your forehead, whispering encouragement.

“You’re stronger than this,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But even the strong need help sometimes.”