The morning light filtered through the trees, casting soft, shifting beams across the campsite. Gale rose with the sun, expecting to see you already packing for the day’s journey. When he didn’t, a knot of worry twisted in his chest.

Driven by concern, Gale made his way to your tent. He paused briefly, his hand hovering over the flap before pulling it back. His heart dropped at the sight of your pale form, sweating and curled into yourself. He knelt down, brow furrowing in alarm.

“By the gods, you’re burning up,” Gale murmured, as he gently brushed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”