Oswin Tunnelway's Arc

Chapter 7 of 10

The camp was quiet when Oswin woke, the kind of silence that made checking the scratch feel like cracking ice. He unwrapped the bandage in the dark and counted the days left in his head while his fingers traced the edges of the wound. The fever was still there, steady and patient. He opened the salve jar and stared at what remained — barely enough to cover the bottom, maybe one application if he was careful. His symptom tracker lay beside it, filled with notes he'd written every morning since the scratch appeared. The last entry read "fever holding, coordination stable." He added today's date and wrote "final dose" in the margin, then closed the book and pressed his palm flat against the cover. The sanctuary stood a hundred yards ahead, its stained glass window catching the first light. Oswin had spotted it the night before and steered the group toward it without explaining why. Now he moved through camp, checking Grendel's bandaged shoulder, adjusting Hazel's bedroll away from the damp ground, refilling Foxface's water flask from his own supply. He worked quietly, the way he always did, making sure each of them had what they needed for the push to Nor. When Caius stirred, Oswin caught his eye and nodded once toward the sanctuary. Caius understood without words — one more night of shelter, one more night where Oswin could still do this. The salve jar went back into his bag, empty now except for the residue on the glass. He'd already decided he wouldn't use the last dose today. He'd save it for tomorrow, when they'd need every hour he could buy them.