With Blood incapacitated, the cohort agreed to return from their adventure. Many hours later, they arrived behind a ten foot tall wall.
The wall was solid black and ran far down to the left. Within the wall, gaps seperated the darkness and overzealous eyes peered between each gap.
Recognition flashed across the watchful gazes and voices began to bleed into the air, muddled by the voices of one another.
A part of the stone wall slightly shook and fell backward, revealing an entrance into the camp. Emile went first.
He passed underneath the wall and entered the camp, fleeing from the manipulating grasp of the Dead Tree and it's leech-like miasma.
Willow entered next, the silhouette of a thin boy slung over her shoulder. As they entered, wandering eyes noticed the cohorts condition.
Mariah jumped up first. She hastily walked across the camp and stopped infront of Emile, presumably waiting for a report of some sort.
"Excuse me," Emile said, trying to avoid the limelight.
"What happened to him?" Mariah asked, her arm stretched behind him and pointed towards Blood.
"The miasma got to him."
"Is he okay?" She asked, "How is it out there?" She asked again, "Are you okay?"
Emile looked around, everyone in the camp had gathered for their return and they were all watching their interaction.
"Blood is fine—" Emile began, "the miasma effected him faster than we originally expected, we suspect it's because he was engaged in combat; perhaps draining your essence weakens your immunity. Either way, we will be heading back out tomorrow. We were unable to secure any useful ingredients for the alchemists."
With that said, Emile brushed past Mariah and continued walking into the camp. Willow and Roy followed behind him until they eventually all settled in their tent from the night before.
As Roy hadn't been with them the previous night, he was surprised to see a gaping hole in the side of their tent, allowing for a generous amount of wind to roll over their skin.
"He's going to be fine," Willow reassured.
"How do you know?" Emile countered, "Healers are scarce. We have no idea how my Gift interacts with an already infected person. We know it can prevent it, but repair it? Who's to say the damage to his brain isn't permanent."
"His eyes—" Willow argued, "he recognized you before he fainted."
Emile scoffed, "Blood's an assassin, Willow. His eyes are the last thing I'll trust."
"If not his eyes then what?" She beckoned, "A person's eyes are pure and honest. He was relieved to see you."
"We should have gotten a closer look, solely relying on Roy's vision was a mistake."
"I agree."
"And why didn't you know about the miasma working quicker when you expend essence? You've been here before, haven't you?" Emile pried.
"I normally don't adventure with Enlighteneds." Willow narrowed her gaze.
A ting struck Emile's back and shivers covered his skin. He took a deep breath and calmed down, all while the silence re-invaded the tent.
"Why is there a hole in the tent?" Roy spoke up.
Emile instinctively looked back at Willow, he had wanted to avoid her gaze, but looking at her now blush surfaced against her cheeks. Roy followed Emile's eyes and arrived on Willow.
With both of them staring at her, the grown woman conceded and looked away.
"She was embarrassed Blood saw her nude—" Emile finally answered, "at least I think."
"I was not embarrassed!" Willow roared, "Do I look like I'd be embarrassed?" She pushed her chest forward and sunk her eyes, "He simply wasn't allowed to see me."
"So you… tore a hole in the tent?" Roy asked with sincerity.
"No. Blood made the hole."
"Okay now—" Emile interrupted, "you're really gonna lie to the new guy?"
"It's not a lie."
"It's stretching the truth."
"Not a lie."
"Hey," a new voice joined the mix, "I heard something happened to your friend, can I come in?"
Emile popped his head out of the tent's entrance. Looking down at him, Jazz smiled while twirling her dreads.
"Yeah yeah, I mean anyone can come into the tent now that we have that hole." Emile snickered.
Jazz kneeled underneath the tent's entrance and made her way over to Blood. She placed the back of her hand on his forehead and leaned into his chest, placing her ear against his heartbeat.
"You healed him?" She asked.
"Yeah—" Emile replied, "why? Is something wrong?"
"It sounds—" She stopped herself, unable to find the right words, "there's a new sound, a sound that's not normally there."
Emile shot up at this. His healing had never failed him, but of course his hunch was right. Repairing and accelerating were two different things weren't they?
'But I've healed from wounds the natural body couldn't repair on its own'
'Could it be a virus that's living off his cells? So when I heal him I'm really feeding the poison?'
Emile hunched over beside Jazz. He put his ear against Blood's chest and closed his eyes.
"It's like—"
'What the hell is this?'
'It kinda sounds like water, like the sloshing of water?'
'Or like a squirming? A wet snap'
"It's like something's moving in his chest." Jazz finished Emile's thought.
"Yeah…" He agreed, "but that can't be the case, right?"
"I don't know. We're just gonna have to wait and see." Jazz said dejectedly, "What happened to him?"
Emile proceeded to recount the events of their adventure in as much detail as he could remember, but the most important part he didn't witness.
"He struck his hand—" Willow added, "I'm not sure if you noticed, but before you healed him his hand had a hole in it, a hole too small to be from his opponent."
"What are you saying?" Emile asked.
"I think he stabbed himself."
"What?!" Emile shouted.
"He did—" Roy spoke up, "and there is something in his chest, two things to be exact."
The occupants of the tent simultaneously looked at Roy.
"Well what is it?!" Emile yelled.
"I'm not sure—" Roy shrugged, "they look like worms."