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“Gee,” said Oakley, passing easily underneath it, “I wonder why, giant…”

They maneuvered Cole into a bunk. His feet dangled off the edge.

“Lucky you’re so short, eh?” he said, grinning at Eirwen.

“Short on height, but not on wit, which is more than I can say about you.”

“Come on, Snow. We all know I’m the funny one.”

“Is ‘all’ just you in this scenario? Because you’re the only one who thinks that.”

“You smile at my jokes.”

Eirwen fixed her features into the most solemn expression. “Only to keep myself from weeping.”

Oakley tore Cole’s shirt, heaving it off his body and casting it aside.

“Hey! I liked that shirt–”

“Do you like your life better?”

Cole’s eyes widened. “She… she said it wasn’t mortal–”

“Helikes to exaggerate,” Eirwen snapped, shooting Oakley a dark expression. “Hold still.”

“What? Why–”

Oakley splashed something clear and cool over his wound. The flesh underneath the liquid hissed.

“Ouch! Saints and spirits, do youmind? That hurts!”

“It’ll kill off any infection,” Oakley muttered, now probing the wound with a hot cloth. Merry went to stoke the fire. “Stay still, boy, I need to inspect the damage.”

Eirwen got up and fetched a small vial of something from one of the cabinets. She brought it back to Cole’s side and pressed it to his lips.

“Take this,” she said.

“What is it?”

“It’ll help with the pain.”

“You couldn’t have offered that to mebefore?”

“It’s a waste on a minor injury like this,” Oakley tutted, shaking his head.

“A minute ago you were trying to convince me that I was dying! Pick a mood!”

Oakley’s fingers disappeared into his shoulder. Cole seethed, necking back the vial Eirwen had given him and then groaning against her shoulder. For a moment, she sat stunned, unsure of where to put herself, before Oakley yanked back his hand and Cole fell into her completely. He was a step away from whimpering, his fingers loose against her body.

“Are… you… always… this… rough?”

Oakley shrugged. “Dwarves are made a bit sturdier than humans, sorry,” he said, not sounding remotely apologetic. “There’s nothing in the wound that should cause you any problems. Minor muscle damage. Should heal nicely if we clean it properly.”

He doused a nearby rag with some more of the solution.

“Let– let me,” Eirwen said, tugging the rag free of his calloused grip.

Oakley held out his hands.“Suit yourself. I’ll lay out needles and thread.”