Fall, Day 18, 514AV
When Noven awoke, he thought he'd died and entered the Ukalas.
He was too rested. Too at peace. It was the only explanation he could think of, until yesterday's chaotic events began slowly trickling back into his consciousness. Nov's mind picked up bits and pieces in no particular order, remembering first the monstrous pain form having his wound cleaned, then the tea, then the brief but violent scuffle with Kechaiya's attacker, and lastly, how he'd manhandled the doctor to the point of hurting her.
Remembering that final part brought on a fresh wave of frustration and guilt. The man hadn't meant to hurt her--he was chasing ghosts in his sleep again outside of the security of his own walls. And the only kinds of nightmares that ended worse than ones of pursuit were the ones where he actually caught his prey.
Nov's dream the night before had wavered dangerously between the two. He was in mid tackle when Jillene forced him to wake, which, in retrospect, had probably saved the healer's life.
"Petch..." The cook brought both hands from underneath the wool blanket and clawed at his face in a mix of shame and anger. Shame for having inflicted as much harm as he did on someone who'd gone through extreme lengths to help him, and anger over his helplessness when it came to something as simple and mundane as sleep.
But, Nov reminded himself, he had the tea now. Thus far he'd noticed no negative side effects. No nausea, hallucinations, or heavy drowsiness that he usually associated with things that tinkered with his head. Of course, he remembered none of the actual ingredients, except maybe passionflower, whatever that was. More importantly, he felt better rested than he had in...well, in years. Noven couldn't even recall the last time he'd slept so well, so dreamlessly. It was hard to picture what life might be like, should he be privileged to take this miracle draught of Kechaiya's every night, but he was willing to bet it would be a vast improvement.
Careful not to unsettle his bandages, Nov tried to prop himself up to sitting position in the creaky little cot. It stung whenever he moved too much, having only been less than a day since the doctor fixed his stitches, but it was immensely better than before. Not to mention mentally the young man felt more alert and whole than ever. Traces of exhaustion still lingered in his body but that was to be expected. A single night of good rest wasn't going to suddenly undo years and years worth of deprivation and abuse.
And when all was said and done, Nov couldn't deny there was one person he owed much of his swift recover too. He slowly pushed his legs over the cot, pulling back the woolen blanket, and looked outside a nearby window. Syna was still making steady progress to her peak, which meant he'd slept through at least half of morning. Better get up and moving, then; there was no time to waste if he wanted to make it up to the doctor in earnest.
For a moment, the cook's heart sank in dismay. He was still shirtless and beltless, and it didn't take too much backtracking to remember why that was the case. But then he saw a stack of neatly folded clothing sitting on the bed stand beside him and breathed in relief. The Isur had been thoughtful enough to retrieve some of Nov's clothing. They were his Ramie's, reserved mostly for blood sports and longer trips, but they would do more than suffice. Jillene had even included a length of thick string, which Noven wound through his pants as a makeshift belt after gingerly pulling his clean shirt.
A quick rinse of the face, piss in a pot, and donning of boots later, the cook was ready to start his day. He would check in on the doctor before going out to purchase a new shirt and belt. There was plenty of money from his winnings that night against Errol and not a copper of it yet spent.
But, first thing's first. Nov had to make breakfast.
He walked quietly toward the bunkroom that Kechaiya slept in first, poking in his head to make sure she was still in bed. The cook couldn't see much save tendrils of earthen hair and the rise and fall of a slumbering body beneath blankets. Poor lass must be beat after everything he put her through last night. Not wanting to disturb her, Noven ducked out and crept out the door toward the kitchens. He would have to make this fast. If either female caught him moving about so soon, they might very well scold him back into bed.
With as much speed as he could muster, Nov hobbled into the familiar sanctity of his cramped but functional kitchen and got straight to work. Two logs into the furnace, a quick strike of a flint and stone to get the kindling going, and a large pan plucked from its hook on the wall to settle firmly on the griddle. The cook engaged his torso as little as possible, sticking to relying mostly on his limbs and things he could easily reach.
He had no idea what the doctor would like, so he decided to go for the tried and true with an extra Noven twist: scrambled eggs, greasy bacon, golden fried spuds, and a side of surprise. For the last, he would need to make a short but risky trip outside. Which meant he had absolutely no time to waste.
Crack, crack, crack! Three eggs plopped onto the heating skillet, followed by several strips of bacon, and soon the air thickened with a heavenly scent of breakfast. Nov stirred one half every now and then while flipping the other whenever a strip of pork grew crispy enough. When both eggs and bacon were nearly done cooking, he threw some sand into the furnace to lower the fire. Then the cook set down both skillet and spatula to shuffle out into the cool, Autumn air in search of a very specific flower.
