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“How badly are you injured?” Caleb asked quietly.
Nott jerked in surprise, sloshing whiskey from the flask she’d been clutching close to her chest. The movement made her wince, which only confirmed the suspicions Caleb had harbored all evening. There was something wrong with Nott.
The others hadn’t noticed as they went about the process of making camp for the night. They could be forgiven for that; everyone was beyond tired after the fight they’d had. They were all moving on muscle memory to scrape together dinner, put up tents and tend to the horses. No one had escaped unscathed, and most of them still bore their fair share of bruises and scrapes since Jester had run out of spells and Fjord had taken their last healing potion to help keep his guts on the inside where they belonged.
So, it was no surprise that no one else had noticed how Nott favored her right arm as she set up her bedroll, or how the muscles around her eyes and mouth tightened as she helped Beau haul firewood. Caleb almost missed it, and he knew her better than all of them. He also knew her well enough to know that if the wound was life-threatening, she would have said something, but that didn’t mean she was all right.
Things left untreated had a way of festering.
He had waited through dinner and offered to take the first watch. As expected, Nott agreed to join him. Exhausted, no one fought them for the right, all dropping off quickly as soon as Caleb had strung his silver wire around their campsite. Only then did he raise the question.
“What—oh, it…it’s nothing you need to worry about, Caleb,” Nott assured him with a shaky smile. Her left hand went to hover above the bandages on her right forearm. They looked different than the ones he’d seen her put on that morning, and not in a good way. These looked old and dirty, not the sort of thing that should be covering any sort of wound.
“May I take a look?” Caleb asked. There was a queasy churning in his stomach. She never liked to trouble him, but at the very least she could have admitted she was hurt and asked for the clean spare bandages he kept in his pack for both of them. Her resistance told him she was hiding something more than just an injury.
“It really isn’t a big deal, Caleb, I promise,” Nott assured him. “It’s not going to kill me in the middle of the night, and I’ll have Jester take care of it first thing in the morning as soon as she’s got some spells back.”
“Nott, please…let me see,” Caleb begged. He could only think of one reason why she wouldn’t want him to see her injury.
Reluctantly, Nott pushed her sleeve up above her right elbow and held her arm out toward him. “It wasn’t your fault, Caleb,” Nott said, firm and stubborn. Gently, he reached forward and took her small forearm, resting it on his knee as he unwrapped the dirty bandages. Nott was still speaking to him, whispering more assurances and excuses that Caleb knew he didn’t deserve.
He’d used fire during their fight, used it recklessly. Just like always, he’d told himself it was justified, that he needed to protect his friends, but when had he ever succeeded in doing that? All he ever did was hurt the people he cared for. All he ever did was kill them.
The last of Nott’s bandages came loose, revealing the burn she’d hid to save his worthless feelings. Her green skin was an angry, vicious red, swollen and blistered, wet in places where a few of the blisters had already burst. Caleb knew burns well; he knew if Jester didn’t heal it for her in the morning it would scar. It was also at risk for infection, especially with the burst blisters rubbing against old, used bandages.
Nott had been hurt. Nott was in danger even now. Nott could have died, could have burned just like his mother and father and—
“Caleb!” Nott hissed. Her clawed fingers tightened around his wrist, enough to hurt without breaking skin. Just enough to snap him back to himself, to the present. She’d had practice, too much practice.
“Caleb, did you hear me?” Nott asked. “This wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do this.”
Caleb blink. He hadn’t done this? Was she lying to protect him? No, Nott wasn’t lying, the urgent candor in her large yellow eyes and the droop of her ears weren’t just for show.
“I…how?” Caleb asked, choking on the words. They still tasted like ashes in his dry mouth, even if the memories of flames were beginning to recede. For now.
“I got too close to the bandits’ campfire,” Nott said quietly, and Caleb recognized a hint of embarrassment in her voice. “I dodged a sword one of them swung, but I slipped and my arm hit a log and—” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “It was an accident, Caleb. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anyone’s fault, not even the bandits really.”
She carefully took her arm back from him, pulling it close to her chest. “I didn’t say anything because Jester was out of healing spells and everyone was out of healing potions, so there isn’t anything anyone can do about it until tomorrow and…”
“And you didn’t want to upset me,” Caleb finished for her. Guilt, ever close at hand, made him wince. Even if he hadn’t been directly responsible for Nott’s burn, he was still the reason she’d hid it. She’d wrapped her injury in dirty bandages and hadn’t sought any aid just to keep him from panicking and spiraling, just like he had. Just like he was very close to doing even now.
No, he couldn’t do that, not now. He hadn’t hurt Nott, but he could help her. That was what he needed to focus on right now.
“I don’t have any magic or potions to heal you, but we should still treat this,” Caleb said. His voice only shook a little as he reached out to touch Nott’s wrist a few inches below the burn. “It needs to be clean and dry…and I think I still have a bit of a salve that is good for burns…”
He reached for his pack, squinting into it in the dim firelight, when Nott’s small hand settled on top of his. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said, offering him a smile that was strangely proud.
“Of course,” Caleb said. “We take care of each other, ja?”
“Always,” Nott replied, her toothsome smile widening as Caleb pulled out clean bandages and a water skin.