"Batu."
He was already headed back towards me. I struggled to focus on him.
"You are not well," he observed. His features were blurry.
"I think I have an … infection."
With little finesse, he hauled me off my horse onto his. "We cannot stop here. I know a place where we'll be safe close to here."
"Hot," I complained and shifted in front of him.
"No fussing, lamb," he said, amused. He rested one hand on my clammy forehead. "You are fevered."
"Don't cut off my hand," I whispered.
He said something else, but it slid through my thoughts and out. My eyes closed. I was overheating and beginning to shiver.
This can't be how it ends.