"Gooood morning!"

Fralith groaned, throwing his good arm over his face. Who was bellowing at this time in the morning? If it was Ailith pretending to be a BoomBird again, he was going to capture one of them and hide it under her pillow. Then she could experience the true annoyance of being woken too early while having her ears blown off.

"Rise and shine, Brave Bud! I know it seems ridiculously early in the morning, but actually, it's nearly lunchtime. We let you sleep in. Thought you needed it."

"Go away," he grumbled. It was too early. He shifted and a stab of pain lanced up his shoulder. Ouch! Ailith, what are you— boots thundered across the bridge. "HOW COULD YOU?" He scrambled backwards, heart flapping wildly. The mob came closer, torches held high. "HOW COULD YOU, FRALITH?"

Fralith's eyes flew open, blood pounding. Not Ailith. She wasn't here; he'd left her behind along with everyone else. An ache swelled under his ribs, dark, throbbing and consuming. He swallowed and took deep breaths to calm his heart.

"Brave Bud?"

A little yelp escaped him as he threw off his arm and pushed himself up on his elbows. Another stab lanced up his shoulder and he winced. The curtains were open, allowing bright sunlight to pour across his bed and cast some funky shadows over FlameHair's face. He blinked at the man and shrank back, lips twitching in a repressed, silent snarl.

"Woah, no need to startle," FlameHair said, raising his hands. "I'm perfectly harmless— to you, at least, you brave little bud."

He huffed and lowered himself back onto the bed, careful to shift his arm as little as possible. It throbbed to the time of his breathing, each beat a resonating ache. Tucking his injured arm close to him, he glanced back up at FlameHair. Why was he here again? Not that he minded very much — it could be someone worse. Like a RedShirt. Or Davith. He shuddered and shoved the line of thought away. Now was not the time to think about it. He had to stay alert.

"...he's in the hospital. Escaped with some nasty bullet wound, but he'll make a recovery. The girl's unharmed, thanks to you."

Fralith shook himself inwardly. FlameHair had been talking. There wasn't much point listening in — it was all gibberish to him — but it felt wrong to not listen; like he was missing out on something important.

"...caused quite the kerfuffle, coming out of nowhere like that. Everyone's throwing out theories about your origins and family. Things are getting quite wild. Say, where's your parents, for example. Do you have family?" FlameHair looked at him expectantly.

He frowned a little. What did he need to do this time? There had been an lift at the end of his words, like a question, and he had paused, looking at him. Maybe...FlameHair wanted him to answer? I can't, he signed by flicking his fingers in SilentTalk. I don't understand.

As if he could understand his flicking, FlameHair nodded and patted his arm. Fralith flinched, pressing himself away from the hand. A flicker of darkness flashed in FlameHair's eyes as he quickly withdrew his hand and continued his one-sided conversation. "They'll show up soon enough, don't worry. And if not, you have me. I'm here to keep you cozy and safe, you curious cookie."

Fralith turned away a little, dots of ink clouding his chest. He didn't want to be touched. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted...he wanted... his stomach twinged. Food. He wanted food. FlameHair brought food last time. Maybe he'd brought more — there had to be a reason why he came here. It couldn't just be to talk at him.

Shutting out FlameHair's chatter, he turned his head and peered around FlameHair. A cart sat behind him, filled with various things. It wasn't the best angle, but the things on the top looked like food. His stomach twinged again, adding a small growl to it. Longing gaze fixed on the food, he sighed. It was so close yet Hinchillas away. A flash of movement drew his gaze back to FlameHair.

FlameHair pointed to his injured arm. "May I take a look? The bandages need changing."

Fralith looked at FlameHair then at his arm then back again. Yes, he knew his arm was injured.

"I will be gentle, I promise, but the bandage needs to be changed." FlameHair grasped his fingers over the air and wound something invisible around his arm then unwound it. He pointed at Fralith, gesturing at his arm.

Fralith blinked. Oh. He wanted to look at the wound. The black dots in his chest turned to smudges and he shrank back, unease prickling the tips of his ears. Tending to the wound meant getting closer to him, and he didn't want FlameHair any closer. FlameHair was okay, but he didn't trust him not to be...bad. Everyone was bad, in one way or another. Even the good people. Even family. It was unavoidable.

But the wound... he knew what happened to them when they weren't cared for. Once, one of his Guard friends accidentally cut his foot on some bark. He'd wrapped it up and left it, never changing or caring for it. Days later, when they'd finally convinced him to change the bandage, the wound was infected and stunk. He had to stay home for a season before he was back to full health.

Fralith couldn't afford to fall sick like that. He needed all his strength to get out of here. But would FlameHair do it right? Would he hurt him? Was it safe to let FlameHair do it? He could do it himself, but he had no herbs or bandages. Neither did FlameHair, as far as he could see, but he must have something if he was asking.

"May I?" FlameHair reached out a hand, breaking into his thoughts.

Biting his lip, he considered. Should he? Would FlameHair hurt him? It didn't seem like it; he'd given him food — good food — and seemed nice, but that could all be a ploy. A trick, made up by the RedShirts. But even if that was true, his wound still needed tending to. He sighed and eased himself into a sitting position, cradling his injured arm.

With a deep breath, he offered his arm to FlameHair, face turned away and stomach sloshing. Please don't hurt me. Please don't make it hurt more.

"Oh, you brave, brave, bud. I will be as gentle as I can, I promise you."

Warm fingers slipped around his arm and he flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. "I told you not to talk to him!" Father shook him by the arm, stern voice snapping across his ears like a whip. "He's dangerous! He's RedShirt!"

"I'm going to unbandage this, okay? It'll hurt a bit." FlameHair's fingers lightly brushed over the bandages until they found the end. They tugged it free and started to peel the layer back. Pain — who had been mostly dormant — raised its feathered head, crest flaring warningly.

Fralith gritted his teeth and schooled his breathing to be even and slow. FlameHair moved slowly, easing back each layer with the utmost care so that it only increased the dull ache and pain settled back down. He shifted, sneaking a glance towards FlameHair. He was...gentle. Gentle, like he didn't want to make it hurt. A memory rose from the corners of his mind, unbidden.

He's small and sitting on their old, simply fashioned table— the one they used before it was replaced by the ornately carved one. Sunlight speckles the deck outside the window, casting the sense of warmth and enclosed safety inside the house.

His older brother bends over his knee, carefully picking out fragments of wood. He moves slowly, each sliver eased away from the wound with calculated care. Messy black hair falls out of its leather thong and brushes against his nose. It tickles, and he reaches one grubby, plump hand to brush it away.

"Ow," he sniffs as Davith pulls out the last splinter. "It hurts."

"I know." Davith wipes his knee with a cloth and picks up a bandage. "I can't stop it from hurting."

He winces, tears dribbling down his cheeks. The cloth stings. "But you said it wouldn't hurt."

Davith paused and looked up at him, warm eyes soft. "I said it wouldn't hurt much." He reaches up, using one thumb to wipe away his tears. "I can't stop things from hurting; that's how things work. But I can try my best to make it hurt as little as possible."

He sniffs again, nodding. "You always make it hurt so small. You're the bestest at it in the world."

His older brother laughs and ruffles his hair. "I haven't even finished bandaging, LittleBird!"

A giggle rises to his mouth, casting away the sadness and pain. "That's because you're the goodest! Soooooo good that it hurts so small already!"

Fralith blinked back tears, a yawning ache for his older brother swelling under his ribs. If only he was here to make it hurt less. If only he was here to wipe away his tears. If only that brother — that Davith — still existed.