Dearest Evelyn

-chapter 14-

“Terrin!” I exclaimed, as he was set down by Hector in my tent. Through his armor, I could see the dark crimson tale-tell signs of a deep wound around his ankle.

His face was scrunched in pain, sweat covering his brow and his breathing labored.

“The King ordered he be taken off the field . . .” Hector panted. “I had to leave Gwin. Don’t worry- he’s fine. But Terrin . . . .”

“Here, clover.” Joanna began to scramble around in her bag for the clover.

Hector helped me dismantle Terrin’s armor in order to get to his wound. When we finally got the leg piece off, I found- to my dismay- the wound to be deeper than I expected. Joanna chewed up the clover and began to place it over the gash. The wound was about five inches, from his ankle up, on the softer side. He wasn’t moving his foot at all, which may have meant some important nerve had either been pinched or severed.

“Hector, are you alright? You and Gwin?” I asked, getting out the wraps for Terrin’s leg.

He moaned in pain.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Hector answered. He looked fatigued. I tried to focus on Terrin but my mind kept wondering off towards Gwindire. Hector said he was alright . . . and he was the general’s son . . . but something in the back of my mind kept telling me to worry.

“How’d it happen?” Joanna asked.

“I don’t know.” Terrin answered. His voice was weak and strained. “I just . . . I don’t know.”

“Relax, Terrin.” I said, placing a gentle hand upon his chest. “Hector, help me move him to the bed.”

We did so.

“I . . . I don’t know if I should stay or return . . . .” Hector said.

“It’s too risky traversing back and forth. You’d best stay here.” Joanna suggested.

He nodded, watching me wrap Terrin’s leg.

“God Evelyn!” Terrin snapped as I tightened the wraps.

“Can it, Terrin.” I hissed. “I’m trying to help.”

He growled and grasped one of the tent’s support poles, quite tightly.

“Hector, it’s best we give him space. Let’s go outside.” Joanna placed her hand on his arm. He looked to her once then nodded, leaving me alone with Terrin.

When I finished I stepped back to look at him.

He was staring at me with eyes and I wasn’t sure if they were angry, in pain or thankful. I didn’t say anything, to keep from causing him emotional stress. His cut was too close to the Achilles tendon, which meant his walking might be marred.

It was his face that stopped me from joining the other two outside. I figured I would have to get used to healing small wounds and such- after all, this was a war. But wounds like this nearly made me vomit. One of my best friends had been deeply hurt- and it might’ve permanently affected him, but only time would tell.

His face portrayed a look I had begun to see more of lately. His jaw was set firm, but he looked overall quite appreciative. I had always noticed it was hardest for Terrin to admit he was wrong, to ask for forgiveness, or to thank people for good deeds done unto him. He figured that if he couldn’t do it himself, no one should help him.

He held my gaze for as long as I stared.

“Is something wrong?” I finally asked. He was beginning to freak me out.

He shook his head feebly. He kept staring.

“What is it then?”

He didn’t answer.

“Terrin?”

He just swallowed, in a nervous manner.

“Let me guess,” I smiled. “You’re trying to say thank you.”

“I’ve never been good at it.” He finally answered.

“I know. But I know you better so, it isn’t necessary.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.” I sat beside him, on the edge of the cot.

He hesitated before speaking. “I was almost hoping . . . you wouldn’t be here when Hector brought me back.”

I looked at him, puzzled. “Why?”

He hesitated again. Or maybe he was just in pain. It was hard to tell with Terrin.

“Terrin?”

“I . . . well, I didn’t want you to see me this way.”

“What do you mean? Weak? Because I think of you as exactly opposite. Not many people would snap at the person healing their wound.”

“Yeah . . . sorry about that.” He looked away.

“You were in pain. It’s understandable.”

“Eve?”

“Yes?”

He didn’t answer. He avoided my gaze. I waited patiently, but he never responded. He just stared at the side of the tent. I didn’t speak, figuring it best not to disturb him. That was a part of Terrin’s personality; he would speak if he wanted to speak.

I got up, deciding to go ahead and make a salve to help heal his gash. I had a nagging feeling that his eyes were boring into the back of my head- but I never looked to make sure. I wanted to leave him to his peace.

“Are you really worried about Gwin?” came his voice.

“I’m worried about all of you. I mean, look at your leg.” I answered, still not looking at him. I focused on gathering the correct plants needed from my collection.

“I meant . . . like, how . . . .”

“Just tell me, Terrin.”

“Like the day you two were by the river.”

“What about it?” I nearly hesitated with my concoction, wondering at his curiosity between Gwindire and me.

“I was just . . . I dunno. I guess I jumped to conclusions.”

“I’d say so.”

“So you aren’t . . . .”

I turned around to face him. He was propped up on his elbow, staring at me with startled eyes.

“Hey! Lay back down.” I commanded. “And whatever you’re thinking, drop it. There is nothing wrong with a day by the river with a friend.”

“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, Terrin. Now lay down.”

I noticed a look of disappointment in his face. He was obviously thinking about something, and he wasn’t telling me. He avoided my gaze again, so I went back to work.

He was silent for awhile, then started speaking again.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Has the blood gone to your head? Why are you acting this way?” I asked. Certainly something had been knocked loose.

“I’m just trying to say thank you, alright?”

“You’re welcome.”

I heard him sigh in defeat. I grinned, glad he couldn’t see it at the moment.