The Way We Fall

Chapter 147 (Roche)

Her heart nearly stopped in her chest as Tigris froze in the saddle, looking around with confusion before toppling over to the side like a sack of potatoes. She landed on Roche's side heavily, as limp as a rag doll.

"Tigris!" Roche cried out in alarm, snagging the woman by the collar before she could hit the ground. Ivie drew back from where she was patrolling up ahead, her eyes wide with concern.

"What happened?" the knights asked, grabbing the reins of Tigris' free horse. Roche hopped off her own steed, hauling Tigris to the side. She peeled up the woman's shirt, noticing a loop of gauze that had been hastily wrapped around the stitches. Like pulling back the layers of an onion, Roche tugged away the gauze, gaping at the reddened mass of flesh from the burst stitches.

"Oh god," she gasped, fumbling for the medicine bag, "She must have popped a stitch and gotten it infected. Tigris, you brat, why didn't you say anything?"

Tigris remained stubbornly unconscious, her head lolling. Roche sucked in a calming breath, trying to calm the vacuum of panic that had clouded her mind.

Ivie hovered, her eyes lit with worry. "What do we do?"

Infections were precarious things. Roche had applied antibacterial salves yesterday, so if those hadn't worked, then she needed something more drastic. Something that Ivie couldn't see.

"Can you look for some calendula?" when Ivie looked at her in confusion, she added, "Marigolds. Orange petals. If they're around at this time of year, we need them to keep away any extra bacteria to the new stitches."

Ivie nodded, hurrying off towards the woods with haste. The moment she disappeared, Roche tapped Tigris' cheeks.

"Come on, princess. Wakey wakey."

Tigris stirred, her back arching slightly like she was trying to push through her unconsciousness and failing. Roche scrubbed her face. It looked like the princess wouldn't be waking up.

"Llanosus," she murmured, her inkblood washing over the wound. She waited expectantly, feeling the invisible substance curl up around the edges of Tigris' skin.

And then disappeared.

"No," Roche gasped, "Llanosus krun nlacin."

Again, her inkblood refused to settle. Panic began to set in, making the world too sharp. Roche leaned back on her heels, tears burning her eyes. Of course the griffin had enchanted its claws to prevent healing.

What was she going to do now?

"Are these marigolds?" Ivie panted, running back into the clearing with a bouquet of wilted orange flowers. Roche scrubbed her face clean of tears.

"Some of them are, yes. Let me go make a tincture. Can you watch over her?"

Ivie nodded solemnly, handing over the flowers with a worried expression. "Will she be alright?"

Roche's stomach flipped as she glanced back at the princess, who was beginning to twitch and moan in her fevered sleep.

"I don't know."

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Tigris hadn't roused since she'd collapsed. The woman remained limp on the ground, surrounded by her knight and maid who watched her tremble with obvious fever.

Roche laid a wet cloth on the princess' brow, smearing a new ointment with several herbs mashed in around the wound.

Ivie watched over Roche's ministrations, worry shining bright in her normally steady, placid expression. "Roche, we need to get her to a physician."