R U [ I ] N E D

The Sweaty Fuchsia-Faced Goth of Gwyrholm

Callan swallowed at his words, hoping to quell his temper. "Let's get this straight," he said dryly. "I did none of that because I like you. I don't. But without you, we can't save Gwyrholm. I love my home more than I dislike you."

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment." Brady murmured, watching as Callan went back to assisting the townspeople.

Phoena sighed heavily, scrunching her fingers in her swaying ponytail. "Do you really have to provoke him?"

"Did I? I hadn't notice." Brady chuckled softly, his eyes drifting over to the sword that Raita had given him in their fight. Right where he'd left it. He started toward it, earning himself a scolding from Phoena.
"You shouldn't be moving around like that! You're going to blackout!"

He waved her off, ignoring her worry as he bent down to scoop up the weapon, feeling its weight in his hands. "I'll be fine. Actually, I am fine." He tucked the saber through one of the loops of his belt. "I even got a pretty nice sword out of this deal."

Phoena rolled her eyes, sizing up the thin golden weapon. "I could shatter that to pierced with either of my weapons. Easily. But it suits you." She nodded softly.

"I don't think you meant that as an insult, but you should hear yourself." Brady scoffed, walking back and taking a seat next to the girl's feet. "Not everyone has to be a fierce warrior like you."

"This is Gwyrholm." She peered down at him through her lashes. "Of course they do."

"Our laws may say so, but not everyone is suited to that type of work," Brady began, "You, Miss Brineri, have the skill and strength to be one of our strongest soldiers, but there are many who lack the physicality and determination to be fighters."

"Call me- oh, forget it." Phoena sighed before continuing, speaking simply and calmly. "You can find fault in anything if you choose to pick it apart." She readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "I'm going to find Callan. We don't have much time for our quest, and this morning's activities wasted a valuable chunk of it. We should get back on the road as soon as we can."

"Fine." Brady sighed, leaning forward and clasping his knees.

###

When the group finally left the small town in search of the seaward city of La Cierna, the sun was already high in the sky. Callan, who seemed more determined than ever before to hasten their quest, lead the group, Phoena a few steps behind him, and Brady straggling at the back of the back, struggling to keep up with the other two in his state.

"Callan." Phoena called forward, and he begrudgingly came to a stop.

"What is it now?" he muttered.

"We need to stop. Brady looks like he's going to be sick." She tilted her chin back toward the telepath. "Unless you want him to keel over halfway to La Cierna."

"There are worse possibilities." Callan said through gritted teeth, but Phoena ignored the little comment.

"We won't make it to the town before nightfall anyway. We might as well make camp now and let him rest."

Callan glanced back to Brady, then at Phoena. "Remember that this was your idea. There's a clearing up this way where we can set up camp." He started that way, but Phoena caught his arm, tugging him back.

"Then I'll go take care of that, and you take care of him, okay?" She jerked her thumb in Brady's direction. The boy was slumped over with his hands on his knees, wheezing heavily as his body quivered slightly.

"Why me?" Callan groaned, flicking a few strands of hair from his forehead. "He likes you better."

"That's exactly why you're going and not me. Make nice." Phoena gave him a teasing grin and slipped his back from his shoulder. "I'll take that. Good luck!" She waved cheekily as she sauntered off down the path.

"I'm not cut out for this," Callan muttered, shoving his hands down into his pockets as he approached Brady, who was breathing heavily, his hair damp as it hung around his face.

Hearing Callan's footsteps, he lifted his head weakly. "Oh. It's just you." Callan didn't say anything at first as he watched Brady. His skin was flushed and glistening, though the boy himself was shivering.

Callan's eyes widened as he stared at him, "Shit."

"You're overreacting. It's nothing." Brady tried to argue, but it was clear that what he said was far from the truth.

"You're running a high fever, aren't you?"

"No, no." Brady insisted. "I just worked up a sweat from all the walking."

Callan shook his head, moving to help Brady stand up straight and walk. "Regardless, Phoena wants to stop here for the night. She went ahead to set up camp."

"Oh..." Brady's brows furrowed as he thought, his face falling to a scowl. "She thinks we need to stop because I look like a sweaty fuschia-faced goth, doesn't she?"

"A what?" Callan stared at the other boy.

"Nevermind. It doesn't matter why we're stopping, just that we are." He started forward cautiously to make sure that Brady would move with him. It was difficult for Brady to keep his footing as weak as he felt, but he refused to collapse, to be so weak. Already, he was dragging the others down with his injury, slowing their progress.

"We need to check the wound," Callan murmured, more so to himself than to Brady. "I think it might be infected."

"I feel like someone turned my blood to liquid fire," Brady said weakly, "I'd say that isn't a bad guess."

"Look... Can we start over?" Callan asked after a short moment of painstakingly slow walking and uncomfortable silence.

"Will you stop calling me Shrinkwrap?"

"Maybe... Will you stop calling me Sir Prince?"

Brady cracked a small smile. "I guess that could be arranged."

"Good." Callan nodded. "I'm Callan Dellal, no relation to the Grand Commander whatsoever."

"A pleasure." Brady mused, leaning more heavily on him for support. "Braedyn Mienus. I'll probably probe your mind at the most inappropriate of times."

Callan cringed slightly at those words. "I guess I'll have to try to accept that if we're going to be working together."

"I guess you will."

"Hurry up you two!" Phoena waved to the boys from the clearing up ahead. "There's something you have to see!" Callan and Brady exchanged a quick glance, Phoena still gesturing for them to pick up the pace.

"I have a really bad feeling," Brady muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Keep your guard up." Callan nodded, matching Brady's quickest speed as both boys wondered what Phoena might have stumbled upon.